The Dictator | Page 4

the victor of
San Felipe and the Dictator of Gloria. But the victor of San Felipe is
the victim of the Plaza Nacional, and the Dictator of Gloria is at present
but one inconsiderable item added to the exile world of London, one
more of the many refugees who hide their heads here, and are unnoted
and unknown.'
His voice had fallen a little as his sentences succeeded each other, and
the mirth in his voice had a bitter ring in it when he ended. His eye
ranged from the bust to the picture, and from the picture to the
engraving contemplatively.
Something in the contemplation appeared to cheer him, for his look
was brighter, and his voice had the old joyous ring in it when he spoke

again. It was after a few minutes' silence deferentially observed by
Hamilton, who seemed to follow and to respect the course of his
leader's thoughts.
'Well,' he said, 'how is the old world getting on? Does she roll with
unabated energy in her familiar orbit, indifferent to the fall of states and
the fate of rulers? Stands Gloria where she did?'
Hamilton laughed. 'The world has certainly not grown honest, but there
are honest men in her. Here is a telegram from Gloria which came this
morning. It was sent, of course, as usual, to our City friends, who sent
it on here immediately.' He handed the despatch to his chief, who
seized it and read it eagerly. It seemed a commonplace message
enough--the communication of one commercial gentleman in Gloria
with another commercial gentleman in Farringdon Street. But to the
eyes of Hamilton and of Ericson it meant a great deal. It was a secret
communication from one of the most influential of the Dictator's
adherents in Gloria. It was full of hope, strenuously encouraging. The
Dictator's face lightened.
'Anything else?' he asked.
'These letters,' Hamilton answered, taking up a bundle from the desk at
which he had been sitting. 'Five are from money-lenders offering to
finance your next attempt. There are thirty-three requests for
autographs, twenty-two requests for interviews, one very pressing from
"The Catapult," another from "The Moon"--Society papers, I believe;
ten invitations to dinner, six to luncheon; an offer from a well-known
lecturing agency to run you in the United States; an application from a
publisher for a series of articles entitled "How I Governed Gloria," on
your own terms; a letter from a certain Oisin Stewart Sarrasin, who
calls himself Captain, and signs himself a soldier of fortune.'
'What does he want?' asked Ericson. 'His seems to be the most
interesting thing in the lot.'
'He offers to lend you his well-worn sword for the re-establishment of
your rule. He hints that he has an infallible plan of victory, that in a

word he is your very man.'
The Dictator smiled a little grimly. 'I thought I could do my own
fighting,' he said. 'But I suppose everybody will be wanting to help me
now, every adventurer in Europe who thinks that I can no longer help
myself. I don't think we need trouble Captain Stewart. Is that his
name?'
'Stewart Sarrasin.'
'Sarrasin--all right. Is that all?'
'Practically all,' Hamilton answered. 'A few other letters of no
importance. Stay; no, I forgot. These cards were left this morning, a
little after nine o'clock, by a young lady who rode up attended by her
groom.'
'A young lady,' said Ericson, in some surprise, as he extended his hand
for the cards.
'Yes, and a very pretty young lady too,' Hamilton answered, 'for I
happened to be in the hall at the time, and saw her.'
Ericson took the cards and looked at them. They were two in number;
one was a man's card, one a woman's. The man's card bore the legend
'Sir Rupert Langley,' the woman's was merely inscribed 'Helena
Langley.' The address was a house at Prince's Gate.
The Dictator looked up surprised. 'Sir Rupert Langley, the Foreign
Secretary?'
'I suppose it must be,' Hamilton said, 'there can't be two men of the
same name. I have a dim idea of reading something about his daughter
in the papers some time ago, just before our revolution, but I can't
remember what it was.'
'Very good of them to honour fallen greatness, in any case,' Ericson
said. 'I seem to have more friends than I dreamed of. In the meantime

let us have breakfast.'
Hamilton rang the bell, and a man brought in the coffee and rolls which
constituted the Dictator's simple breakfast. While he was eating it he
glanced over the letters that had come. 'Better refuse all these
invitations, Hamilton.'
Hamilton expostulated. He was Ericson's intimate and adviser, as well
as secretary.
'Do you think that is the best thing to do?' he suggested. 'Isn't it better to