Mazaroff was disposed of at any rate for the present. Lechmere's letter to the Chief of the Police in Paris had not been futile. He was pretty well posted with the life story of the man who called himself Prince Mazaroff, who, in point of fact, was one of the greatest scoundrels of his time. Under another name the French police had long wanted him for an old offence, and Lechmere had been in a position to supply the missing details and facts for identification. Besides, the head of the Paris police was an old acquaintance of Lechmere's and valued his opinion highly. Thus it was that no time was lost in tying Mazaroff by the heels after receipt of Lechmere's letter. Mazaroff was a cunning enough scoundrel, but he had more than his match in the old queen's messenger. The coast was quite clear now.

Nothing was in the way of taking the body of the unfortunate king back to England. Nobody must know that he had died, at least not for the present. The secret was valuable for the moment. Of course the queen must be told, and General Maxgregor, but nobody else. It was early the next morning that Lechmere saw both Alexis and Maxwell and found them going on well. He explained briefly to both what had happened.

"You will both be about again in a day or two," he said. "Meanwhile it exactly suits the position of affairs for you to be here as invalids who are incapable of seeing anybody. But I have arranged with the doctor to keep the gentleman of the pencil at bay. You know nothing, you are capable of no opinion, you are utterly indifferent as to what has become of the king. Obviously he has escaped somewhere or his body would have been found. I fancy you understand."

There was no reason to repeat the question. With an easy mind, Lechmere made the best of his way back to London. With the aid of a few cigars, he worked the matter out to the end. He could see his way to damp the pretty scheme of Countess Saens and also regain possession of those papers. Nor would he shew his hand in the matter at all. The thing would cause a little sensation in London perhaps, there would be complications partaking of an international character, but there it would end.

Lechmere drove straight with his gruesome burden to the rooms occupied by General Maxgregor. He found the latter considerably better and ready for work again. The flesh wound in the old soldier's shoulder had quite healed up, that fine constitution made little of the loss of blood.

"The very man I have been longing to see," Maxgregor cried. "When I heard that you were not in London, I felt sure that you were following that strange matter up. Was it an accident?"

"Of course not," Lechmere said with fine contempt. "Did you suppose for a moment that it was? The thing was planned and accomplished by Mazaroff. Who his confederates were does not matter for the moment. At any rate he managed it. It would never do to let the king reach Asturia. But there was one thing they did not reckon on—the disappearance."

"The luck that ever follows the foolish," Maxgregor growled. "The only man uninjured. He takes the first opportunity to get away from his gaolers. In his callous way, heedless of the fact that they are badly hurt, he takes a carriage and goes to Paris. He has no money, but the King of Asturia can always raise that in the French capital. Am I right?"

"No, you are quite wrong," Lechmere said gravely. "The king is dead. I have his body with me at the present moment. Mind you, nobody knows anything about it. But perhaps I had better explain to you how we managed to keep the tragic affair a secret."

Maxgregor listened eagerly to Lechmere's story. His grave face was tinged with deep melancholy.

"That is very sad," he said. "It will be a dreadful blow to the queen. After all she has gone through and suffered it will break her heart to know that Asturia will fall to Russia in spite of everything."

"Asturia is not going to fall into the hands of Russia," Lechmere said drily. "Cunning as those people are, we are going to be one too many for them. After all said and done, nobody outside our little circle knows that the king is dead. I will explain presently. Meanwhile the king must be buried. We must get a certificate without delay. When the time comes the story can be made public."

"It will be difficult to get a certificate from an ordinary doctor," said Maxgregor.

"I grant your point, my friend. But we can get a certificate from Dr. Varney, who attended the king on and off for years during the time he visited London. And Varney often warned the king that any shock might be his end. I should say that he died of the shock. Any way we'll get Varney in and ask his opinion. Have you a room that you can spare? If so we will complete my gruesome task and lock the body carefully away. Get your man off the premises."

The whole thing was managed at length, and a little later and then Varney came in. He made a long and careful examination of the body before he gave his verdict.

"There is nothing broken," he said. "The cause of death has nothing to do with violence. Of that I am certain. This sudden fright acting on a heart all to pieces and nerves like brown paper did the mischief. The shock stopped the heart and the King of Asturia died. There is nothing to prevent my saying that I was called in here to see the body of the King of Asturia and that I certified that shock was the cause of death. I am so sure of it that even had the patient been a common man, I should have certified that there was no cause for an inquest."

"So that we may get the body buried without delay?" Maxgregor asked.

"Well, I should say not," the cautious Varney said. "I am perhaps stretching a medical point and I do not want to get myself into further trouble. For political reasons we do not want the public to know that the King of Asturia is dead. I am prepared to swear as to what killed him. But kings are not buried like ordinary bodies, they are generally embalmed. In the course of a few days the sad news may be made public and then the body can be taken to Asturia and buried in state. The embalmers need not know of the high rank of their subject."

Varney was absolutely right, as Lechmere saw at once. Besides, if his calculations were correct, the sad news would be made public very soon now. People would ask questions but they need not be answered. There was nothing for it now but to break the news to the queen.

"I think I'll get you to do that," Lechmere said to Maxgregor. "You are such an old friend and you can speak to the queen in tones that I should not venture to address to her. But it will be all right so far as Asturia is concerned—Russia is going to fail there. And you and I and one or two others will go down to the grave holding one of the most romantic and wildest political secrets that has ever taken place in Europe. Good luck to you, my friend."

Maxgregor went off at once to the queen's hotel. He found her, to his surprise, not in the least gloomy or anxious; on the contrary there was a fine smile on her face.

"I have been longing for you," she said. "If you had not come to me, positively I must have invaded your rooms. Have you heard the good news—I mean the good news of the king?"

Maxgregor looked with some alarm at the royal speaker. Thoughts of a brain unhinged by trouble rose before him. Evidently the queen had taken leave of her senses.

"The good news," he stammered. "Margaret, there is no good news. Somebody has been cruelly deceiving you. You must be prepared to hear that which is bad, very bad."

"But the king escaped," the queen cried. "He escaped from the wrecked train and made his way secretly and swiftly to our capital. It was perhaps the one unselfish and manly action of his life. He was bruised and battered but he was sufficiently himself to meet his ministers. Tomani has cabled me."

"Impossible!" Maxgregor cried. "Madame, the king is dead. He was killed in that accident. Mr. Charles Maxwell, though sorely hurt himself, managed to get the body conveyed to a place of safety so that nobody should know, and the body has been brought to England. Mr. Lechmere managed it in the most wonderful way. The body is at present in my rooms safely under lock and key. I have seen it, Mr. Lechmere has of course seen it, and so has Dr. Varney, who is prepared to certify that the cause of death was shock to the system. I came here on purpose to bring you the ill tidings. I pray you be buoyed up with no hopes on such a fallacy as this. If you like to come and see for yourself——"

The queen passed her hand across her brows in a bewildered sort of way. At the same time she took up a grey cablegram from the table by her side.

"Listen to what Tomani says," she cried. "Listen—'King here safe but knocked about from the result of his accident. Met him myself. Is at present in consultation with ministers. Will let your majesty know result of deliberations as soon as settled. Tomani.' Paul, what does it mean?"

But for once in his life General Maxgregor was incapable of reply.