L. P. M. (The End of The Great War) | Page 8

matter of fact, he had always found the young women of the upper
classes of England either extremely stupid or perfectly willing to
appear so to an American of his class.
Still, as it happened, he did meet the Princess. One night after dinner he
found her struggling with the door into the passage which led to their
adjoining apartments. She was, or pretended to be, helpless in the wind
that was blowing her down the deck as she clung to the rail, and,
quietly taking her by the arm, he pulled her back to the door, where he
held her until she was safely inside. This was all done in a perfectly
matter-of-fact manner, and she might as well have been a steamer rug
that was in danger of being blown overboard. Then before she had time
to thank him, the door was blown shut, and he had resumed his solitary
walk along the deck.
The next time that the Princess saw him, although she felt sure that he
must have known that she had looked in his direction, there was no
indication of any desire on his part to continue the acquaintance. He
had apparently entirely forgotten the episode or her existence, and the
pride of a beautiful young girl was hurt, and the dignity of royalty
offended--but the first was all that really mattered.
And so the voyage ended. The passengers all seemed perfectly willing
to go ashore, notwithstanding their assumption of indifference to the
German blockade. Edestone, as usual, was met by the fastest form of
locomotion, and before the trunks and bags had begun to toboggan

down to the dock, he was whirling up to London in the powerful motor
car belonging to his friend, the Marquis of Lindenberry. Edestone had
notified him by wireless to meet the steamer, and they were now being
driven directly to the Marquis's house in Grosvenor Square. Stanton
and Black were left behind with James, who condescended with his
superior knowledge to assist them in getting the luggage through the
custom-house.
"Well what in the name of common sense has brought you over to
England at such a time as this?" demanded Lindenberry, after the
automobile had swept clear of the town and with a gentle purr had
settled down to its work. He leaned over as he spoke, to satisfy himself
that the chauffeur, having finished adjusting his glasses with one hand
while running at top speed, finally had both hands on the wheel, and
then turned expectantly to his companion.
"Oh, I see," Lindenberry nodded when he found that he got no
satisfactory answer to this or the other inquiries he put; "you evidently
do not propose to take me into your confidence. Still, I would not be so
deucedly mysterious, if I were you. I call it beastly rude, you know.
Here I have come all the way from Aldershot, and am using the greater
part of my valuable leave in response to your crazy wire. Tell me, is it a
contract to deliver a dozen dreadnoughts at the gates of the Tower of
London before Easter Sunday?" and his eyes twinkled, "or have some
of your young Americans enlisted and the fond parents sent you over to
rescue them?"
Edestone smiled. "Well, the first thing I want, Lindenberry, is a little
chat with Lord Rockstone."
"Oh, is that all?" with a satiric inflection. "Well, why in the name of
common sense didn't you say so at first? I do not know, however, that I
can positively get you an appointment today. You must not mind if His
Lordship keeps you waiting for a few minutes if he happens to be
talking with the Czar of Russia on the long-distance telephone. You
know, we over here are still great sticklers on form. We are trying hard
to be progressive, but we still consider it quite rude to tell a King to
hold the wire while we talk to someone else who has not taken the

trouble that he has to make an appointment. You must remember that
he has perhaps dropped several shillings into the slot, and would
naturally be annoyed if told by the girl that time was up and to drop
another shilling.
"Or Lord Rockstone may perhaps be just in the midst of one of his
usual twenty-four-hour interviews with an American newspaper
representative," he continued his chaffing. "Now if he does not invite
Graves and Underhill and Apsworth to have tea with you, you might
drop in at Boodles' on your way back from the city, and we will just
pop on to Buckingham Palace and deliver to Queen Mary the
ultimatum from the suffragette ladies of the Sioux Indians."
Edestone laughed so heartily that the footman nearly turned to see if
something had