blot upon darkness—that is to say, it was
darker and solider than the rest of the darkness,
and so you could see it a little better; it made me
feel as if maybe it was symbolical—a sort
of sign that the Church was going to keep the
upper hand now, and snuff out all my beautiful civilization
just like that. I found no life stirring in the
somber streets. I groped my way with a heavy
heart. The vast castle loomed black upon the
hilltop, not a spark visible about it. The drawbridge
was down, the great gate stood wide, I entered without
challenge, my own heels making the only sound I heard—and
it was sepulchral enough, in those huge vacant courts.
WAR!
I found Clarence alone in his quarters, drowned in
melancholy; and in place of the electric light, he
had reinstituted the ancient rag-lamp, and sat there
in a grisly twilight with all curtains drawn tight.
He sprang up and rushed for me eagerly, saying:
“Oh, it’s worth a billion milrays to look
upon a live person again!”
He knew me as easily as if I hadn’t been disguised
at all. Which frightened me; one may easily
believe that.
“Quick, now, tell me the meaning of this fearful
disaster,” I said. “How did it come
about?”
“Well, if there hadn’t been any Queen
Guenever, it wouldn’t have come so early; but
it would have come, anyway. It would have come
on your own account by and by; by luck, it happened
to come on the queen’s.”
“And Sir Launcelot’s?”
“Just so.”
“Give me the details.”
“I reckon you will grant that during some years
there has been only one pair of eyes in these kingdoms
that has not been looking steadily askance at the
queen and Sir Launcelot—”
“Yes, King Arthur’s.”
“—and only one heart that was without
suspicion—”
“Yes—the king’s; a heart that
isn’t capable of thinking evil of a friend.”
“Well, the king might have gone on, still happy
and unsuspecting, to the end of his days, but for
one of your modern improvements —the stock-board.
When you left, three miles of the London, Canterbury
and Dover were ready for the rails, and also ready
and ripe for manipulation in the stock-market.
It was wildcat, and everybody knew it. The
stock was for sale at a give-away. What does
Sir Launcelot do, but—”
“Yes, I know; he quietly picked up nearly all
of it for a song; then he bought about twice as much
more, deliverable upon call; and he was about to call
when I left.”
“Very well, he did call. The boys couldn’t
deliver. Oh, he had them—and he just
settled his grip and squeezed them. They were
laughing in their sleeves over their smartness in selling
stock to him at 15 and 16 and along there that wasn’t
worth 10. Well, when they had laughed long enough
on that side of their mouths, they rested-up that
side by shifting the laugh to the other side.
That was when they compromised with the Invincible
at 283!”
