Truxton King

Truxton King, by George Barr McCutcheon

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Truxton King, by George Barr McCutcheon This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Truxton King A Story of Graustark
Author: George Barr McCutcheon
Release Date: December 7, 2004 [EBook #14284]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUXTON KING ***

Produced by Rick Niles, Charlie Kirschner and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team

[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU KNOW ANY BETTER THAN TO COME IN HERE?' DEMANDED THE PRINCE"]
TRUXTON KING A STORY of GRAUSTARK
BY GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
Author of "Graustark" "Beverly of Graustark" etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON FISHER
NEW YORK DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 1909

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I TRUXTON KING 1 II A MEETING OF THE CABINET 23 III MANY PERSONS IN REVIEW 40 IV TRUXTON TRESPASSES 59 V THE COMMITTEE OF TEN 80 VI INGOMEDE THE BEAUTIFUL 94 VII AT THE WITCH'S HUT 114 VIII LOOKING FOR AN EYE 130 IX STRANGE DISAPPEARANCES 147 X THE IRON COUNT 161 XI UNDER THE GROUND 177 XII A NEW PRISONER ARRIVES 190 XIII A DIVINITY SHAPES 205 XIV ON THE RIVER 219 XV THE GIRL IN THE RED CLOAK 231 XVI THE MERRY VAGABOND 245 XVII THE THROWING OF THE BOMB 263 XVIII TRUXTON ON PARADE 278 XIX TRUXTON EXACTS A PROMISE 295 XX BY THE WATER-GATE 312 XXI THE RETURN 329 XXII THE LAST STAND 345 XXIII "YOU WILL BE MRS. KING" 357

ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Don't you know any better than to come in here?' demanded the Prince" (page 67) Frontispiece
"'You are the only man to whom I feel sure that I can reveal myself and be quite understood'" Facing page 104
"'Bobby! Don't be foolish. How could I be in love with him?'" 158
"'His Majesty appears to have--ahem--gone to sleep,' remarked the Grand Duke tartly" 366

TRUXTON KING A STORY OF GRAUSTARK
CHAPTER I
TRUXTON KING
He was a tall, rawboned, rangy young fellow with a face so tanned by wind and sun you had the impression that his skin would feel like leather if you could affect the impertinence to test it by the sense of touch. Not that you would like to encourage this bit of impudence after a look into his devil-may-care eyes; but you might easily imagine something much stronger than brown wrapping paper and not quite so passive as burnt clay. His clothes fit him loosely and yet were graciously devoid of the bagginess which characterises the appearance of extremely young men whose frames are not fully set and whose joints are still parading through the last stages of college development. This fellow, you could tell by looking at him, had been out of college from two to five years; you could also tell, beyond doubt or contradiction, that he had been in college for his full allotted time and had not escaped the usual number of "conditions" that dismay but do not discourage the happy-go-lucky undergraduate who makes two or three teams with comparative ease, but who has a great deal of difficulty with physics or whatever else he actually is supposed to acquire between the close of the football season and the opening of baseball practice.
This tall young man in the panama hat and grey flannels was Truxton King, embryo globe-trotter and searcher after the treasures of Romance. Somewhere up near Central Park, in one of the fashionable cross streets, was the home of his father and his father's father before him: a home which Truxton had not seen in two years or more. It is worthy of passing notice, and that is all, that his father was a manufacturer; more than that, he was something of a power in the financial world. His mother was not strictly a social queen in the great metropolis, but she was what we might safely call one of the first "ladies in waiting." Which is quite good enough for the wife of a manufacturer; especially when one records that her husband was a manufacturer of steel. It is also a matter of no little consequence that Truxton's mother was more or less averse to the steel business as a heritage for her son. Be it understood, here and now, that she intended Truxton for the diplomatic service: as far removed from sordid steel as the New York post office is from the Court of St. James.
But neither Truxton's father, who wanted him to be a manufacturing Croesus, or Truxton's mother, who expected him to become a social Solomon, appears to have taken the young man's private inclinations into consideration. Truxton preferred a life of adventure distinctly separated from steel and velvet; nor was he slow to set his esteemed parents straight in this