71. CHAPTER LXXI.
THE MINISTER OF JUSTICE.
Mr. Windvane, the Minister of Justice, or rather the
head of the Police, was roused early in the morning by a
tremendous knocking at the door of his dwelling. The
stars being still faintly glimmering in the heavens, the great
man ordered his library to be illuminated, and proceeded
thither himself with as little delay as possible. The visitor,
he felt assured, must be one of his secret agents, and
he had already organized a corps of them in imitation of
Fouché.
“Ah! it is you, Cuté!” said Windvane, on perceiving
the visitor. Cuté was one of Lord Slysir's secretaries,
whom Windvane had employed as a spy. He narrated the
circumstances of Lord Slysir's abduction.
“This is important,” said Windvane. “I thank you,
Cuté, for this information—I mean for apprising me of the
occurrence, for you—”
“True, your Excellency, the occurrence was all I could
understand. It required your genius to unravel the tangled
skein.”
“I think I may lay claim to some sagacity, Mr. Cuté—
but then I have the means of information possessed by no
other man, and the power to defeat and destroy all false
players—”
“I trust your Excellency will never have cause to suspect
my fidelity,” said Cuté.
“I trust so, too—because in the event—in that event—I
should be under the disagreeable necessity—enough!
Whither do you go now?”
“It was my purpose to report this matter to the Protector.”
“No. Return to your couch. Go into that chamber
and allow me to turn the key on this side of the door. I
have reasons for it, perhaps involving your safety. The
Protector may order the executioner to decapitate all the
household of Slysir, before I can appease him.”
Cuté, trembling, for he was aware that Windvane's house
was ever filled with the servitors of the guillotine, did not
venture to hesitate.
And Windvane, left to his own reflections, promenaded
his office a few moments, contemplating the web of intrigue
which seemed to invite the control of a master-mind.
“Now, or perhaps never!” thought he, “the opportunity
is presented for me to grasp the reins of power. The flight
of Alice will exasperate the Protector, and the desertion of
his British ally—but no! He cannot long avoid arriving at
the conclusion that after the burning of Mount Vernon by
the British, there can never be a reconciliation between
Randolph and Slysir—never! But will that conviction
come before he goes in pursuit of the enemy? I think
not; and my point is to get him off, out of the way, until I
can realize a fortune.”
This result attained in his meditations, Windvane hastened
to the Palace, and found ready admission. He was ushered
into Ruffleton's bed-room.
“Windvane,” said the Protector, “I have broken the
thread of a most delightful dream. I hope your information
may be of an agreeable nature; and quite sure am I
that you would not have disturbed my slumber at this, the
most unseasonable hour for one who perforce must be up
late o'nights, were it not of great magnitude.”
“It is of very great magnitude, your Excellency,” said
Windvane, “and I am sorry to say it must necessarily be
very disagreeable to you.”
“Pause there, Windvane,” said Ruffleton, sitting upright
in bed, “until I can consider the condition of affairs a
moment. No. It was impossible for any serious calamity
to occur. There has been no battle, of course, or I should
have known it. What is the occurrence, Windvane, which
has blown you hither?”
“There are two of them, your Excellency.”
“Two of them? Nay, don't be alarmed—for I am as
mild as a midsummer morning—I know the attitude of
affairs immediately around me—and Randolph has more
cause of distress than I have. One question. Is there any
rebellion in the distant States?”
“No, sir. The guillotine secures permanent submission
to your Highness's authority in all the free States, and in
Delaware and Maryland!”
“Then, Windvane, I defy your worst! Out with it!”
Saying this, he folded his arms and threw himself back on
his pillow.
“Alice Randolph has escaped,” said Windvane. Ruffleton
stared a moment in silence, while his eyes revolved
quickly and furiously in their sockets. Then he sprang to
the floor, and seized the bell-string. So energetic was his
action that the cord snapped in twain.
“But how do you know this?” he cried, turning to
Windvane, and throwing the tassel to the floor.
“I have it from one of Lord Slysir's family.”
“One of Lord Slysir's family! And how should one of
Lord Slysir's family know anything about it?”
“His Lordship, himself—”
“Well? His Lordship, himself—”
“Is gone, likewise.”
“Gone? Gone over to the enemy? What time is it?
That clock was not wound up.”
“He was seized by Captain Bim at the head of a detachment
of the enemy; so your Excellency will see—”
“See d—n! Her own infernal Blue Caps. A pretty
contrivance, indeed! That is the solution of Slysir's conduct
last night. But none of them shall escape me. The
guillotine shall make an inundation of blood—ah!”
The last exclamation was caused by the abrupt appearance
of Flora Summers, who came running in, exhibiting marks
of alarm. She was in her night-clothes, and paused suddenly
on beholding Windvane.
“I feared you were ill, sir,” said she, addressing Ruffleton.
“I am sure you rang the bell. Did you not desire me to
come?”
“Yes. What time is it? Look at your own clock and
send me word.”
Flora, astonished, withdrew, and instantly after sent word
that daylight appeared in the East.
“That Bim!” said Ruffleton, as he proceeded to put on
his clothes. “That is the whole secret in one word, and
that word his name. My soldiers, excepting a few drunken
or sleepy-headed loons, all over the river! But with the
Potomac between us and the enemy, who would have anticipated
such a thing? The wonder is that they did not
carry me off with the rest! But then I was not so palatable
as his Lordship! Oh, no! I will rush like a tornado upon
them all!”
“I must say, your Excellency, that it seemed as if Lord
Slysir was not in the plot; for they hurried him away without
his—”
“His what?”
“His breeches, your Excellency.”
“A diplomatic ruse, a shallow diplomatic ruse, sir; I have
known a pair of breeches to play an important part in
politics—and why not in love, or perfidy, or treason?”
“His Lordship may have had another pair somewhere
else—but Cuté declares the soldiers hurried him off in his
drawers.”
“His drawers! I'll soon have his legs, unless he can fly
faster than I can pursue! It is broad daylight!” said he,
turning to a window, and throwing open the shutters. “My
horse! Ho, there! Rouse my aides,” he continued, speaking
to an officer below. “And, Windvane,” he resumed,
in a milder tone, “send Virus after me. Let my Ministers
meet to-day as usual, and stay here all day. I will send
messengers to you from the field of battle or the field of
flight. In an hour you will hear my cannon.”
The Despot withdrew hastily from the apartment by the
door which Flora had opened, and Windvane retreated in
another direction.
As the Protector passed through the next chamber, his
hand was seized by Flora, who bathed it with tears.
“Listening! ever listening! When will you be done
with it, foolish girl? Release my hand, I am in great haste.”
“Hastening to the battle-field from which you may never
return.”
“I thrive nowhere else so well as in the field, Flora; and
will try and preserve the life which seems not altogether
worthless to you. I will not question you closely about this
escape.”
“What escape, sir?” asked Flora, in well counterfeited
surprise.
“Oh, no matter—she was a woman, and you are a
woman. She's gone—and that's an end of it, until the
story be continued. Now, Flora, you remain without a
rival in the Palace. Guard my interests well. From the
secret closet you will hear every word my Ministers utter
—and I can rely on
you.”
“You can, indeed.”
“I know it. Now, farewell. Dry your eyes, and make
a fortune. Make Windvane share his gains with you, or
else defeat his projects.”
The Protector, soon after, surrounded by many aides, was
galloping over the intervening space between the Federal
City and the Long Bridge.
