The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

reputation for playing malicious tricks upon her- discarded beaux. Having never thought of himself as on the point of being discarded it had not recurred to him since; but it now appeared that the little Russian's sadistic manner of terminating her love-affairs was a habit, and comparatively well-known, so there seemed no point in lying about the matter.

'Then, Monsieur, I'll confess to having been her latest victim,' he said with a rueful smile.

'I have found little time for women,' remarked Count Haga, puffing out a cloud of smoke, 'and from such results am glad of it.'

'And I,' Roger retorted crisply to this uncalled-for rudeness, 'none at all for smoking a pipe. But mayhap we are both missing something.'

The Prebendary had seated himself behind a desk at the end of the room and was studying some papers. He suddenly looked up and Roger, catching his startled glance, read in it an obvious fear that such a caustic comment might have given offence to his master. But the Count only laughed and cried: 'Touche!You are a bold-spoken young man, and I like you for it.'

In spite of the locked door of his room Roger felt now that he had spoken somewhat abruptly for a guest, so he replied: 'Your pardon, Monsieur le Comte. Having been made such a fool of rankles with me still; but I should not have shown resentment at your remarking on the cause of my undoing, particularly as I have not yet expressed my deep gratitude to you for having saved me from those villains.'

The Count waved his thanks aside. 'Think no more of it, Monsieur. By a fortunate chance I happened to be coming here from my—my house across the bay, and I heard your cries. However, seeing that my intervention saved you from serious chastisement I think that, on balance, you may still consider yourself as the gainer from your com­merce with the Baroness Stroganof.'

'I had no reason to complain of the lady's ardour,' Roger admitted, as that seemed the obvious reply.

'I meant not that,' said the Count quickly. 'The Baroness' temperament has not the least interest for me. I referred to all that you learned, owing to your intimacy with her, of her father's affairs.'

Roger's heart missed a beat, but he managed to keep his face quite blank as he murmured: 'I fear that I fail to understand you, Monsieur.'

'You understand me well enough!' The Count's tone now held a threatening note. 'And you had best be honest in your replies to me; for I have not yet made up my mind how I shall deal with you.'

Wondering what the devil was coming next, Roger replied coldly: 'You speak in riddles, Monsieur; and I resent your tone.'

'You will have something more solid to complain of unless you answer my questions promptly,' came the swift retort. 'To start with you will admit that you are a secret agent—a spy.'

'Forsooth!' cried Roger feigning intense indignation. 'There are bounds even to gratitude, and the fact that you saved me from a worse beating than I got does not give you the right to bring such a charge against me. I am a simple traveller here; and, did my debt to you not forbid me, for such an insult I'd call you out.'

He could not conceive any possible way in which this suspicion of his real reason for being in Sweden had arisen, but he knew that to allow it to be pinned upon him might spell ruin to his mission. Rather than submit to an interrogation he determined to make an attempt to break out. The Count and the Prebendary were both more than twice his age and neither appeared to be armed. Even incommoded as he was by his recent injuries he believed that in a free fight he would prove more than a match for the two of them. He realised that he would not be able to prevent them raising an alarm, and it was certain that there would be servants below stairs who would endeavour to prevent his escape; but with luck he might succeed in reaching the street; and once free he must now do his best to disappear from Stockholm before he could be caught, or knowledge of his activities become more general.

'Cease this pretence!' snapped the Count. 'I know you for what you are! Tis fourteen years since I abolished torture in Sweden, but spies are without the law. Admit the reason for your being in my capital or I'll have the public executioner use the rack upon you until you do.'

Aghast Roger stared at him. The connection in which he had heard the name Count Haga before now flashed into his mind. It was the incognito under which the King of Sweden had made his long tour of Italy and France four years earlier. At the thought that his fist had already been tight-clenched for the purpose of knocking Gustavus III out by a straight right to the jaw, the blood drained from his face. As befitted the revelation he sank slowly onto one knee.

'Rise, Monsieur,' said the King abruptly. 'Whilst in this house I prefer to be known as Count Haga. But remember; if you seek to deceive me further you do so at your peril.'

'Sire!' murmured Roger, remaining on bended knee. 'I beg you to forgive my temerity. Your Majesty has been absent from your capital ever since my arrival in it, and I swear that I did not know your face. I am shamed beyond words that in your august presence I should have been guilty of such rudeness.'

'That has the ring of honesty, at least,' Gustavus remarked, a shade less angrily. 'Rise now, and tell me of yourself. That you are not French, but an Englishman, I already know.'

As Roger stood up his blue eyes were wide with amazement, and he gasped: 'I pray you, Sire, at least enlighten me as to how you discovered that? I had believed my French near perfect.'

'It is. In fact there's little 'twixt it and my own. But when I carried you here unconscious in my coach you muttered certain English phrases. Then, on your coming round, as you were helped into the house, you changed to French and gave out that you were a French­man. My curiosity being aroused I told Prebendary Nordin to lock you up and take steps to ascertain the truth.'

Roger had been long enough in Sweden to become familiar with the names of the King's principal advisers. During his frequent absences abroad the country was virtually ruled by a secret council of four: Johan Kristofier Toll, a great administrator who held the post of War Minister; General Baron Armfeldt, a handsome pervert, but a man of great courage and absolute devotion to his royal master; and two clergy­men of widely differing characters. The first, Olaf Wallqvist, Bishop of Wexio, was a masterful and eloquent prelate, whom Gustavus used to defend the royal measures in public; the second was Carl Gustaf Nordin, who at his own wish remained a simple Prebendary. The last was feared and hated by the others, since the King regarded his advice as indispensable, and always took it in secret before consulting his council.

It seemed strange that Gustavus, whose attitude towards religion was so cynical, that while he played the part of a devout Lutheran in Stockholm, he had also acted as though he was a devout Catholic when in Rome, should confide so much of his most important business to two clerics; but it was rumoured that the deeply religious, self-effacing Nordin was the only man who had the power to put a check upon the rasher schemes of the impulsive King.

It was clear to Roger now that this was Nordin's house, and that he owed his rescue to the fact that Gustavus had been on his way to visit it in the middle of the night, no doubt for the purpose of discussing the present crisis with the man who acted to him in the role of a 'Grey Eminence.'

As these thoughts flashed through Roger's mind the King began to speak again.

'On learning the name by which you are passing here, the Prebendary had your baggage collected from the Vasa Inn. Hidden in a boot in the bottom of one of your trunks he found a letter, all ready for despatch, addressed to the British Minister in Copenhagen. I read it but ten minutes since, and it gives a most lucid account of your activities here; enough, at least, to land you in a dungeon.'

'In that case, Sire, there remains little of interest that I can tell you,' Roger said a shade nervously. 'If I have in any way contravened your laws I can only cast myself upon your mercy.'

As he spoke he was berating himself for a careless fool, and felt that he must have been quite crazy to leave such a document where any determined thief might have come upon it. He decided there and then that if he managed to get out of his present scrape the experience should prove a sharp lesson to him. Never again would he pen so damn­ing a letter in advance; or, if he did, he would keep it nowhere but on his person.

But was he going to get out of his present scrape? That was the now extremely perturbing question. The usual punishment for spies con­victed during a war was death, and in peace to be locked up in a fortress for an indefinite period. The King was all-powerful and had caught him out red-handed. In the face of his own letter he could not possibly deny that he was Mr. Pitt's secret emissary. At the thought he flushed with shame. This was indeed a sorry ending to his first mission; to have given himself away through his own crass carelessness before he had even reached the focal point of his inquiry.

'As far as I am aware you have not contravened my laws,' re­marked Gustavus coldly. 'But persons of your