"The Holnup intend to assassinate Franz-Josef," says Willem, filling a second glass for himself. "If they succeed, there’ll be civil war. Oh, pottin' royalty’s nothing new, and usually there’s no great harm done—various lunatics have tried for Franz-Josef before, there have been two attempts on the German Emperor, and the Tsar was blown up a couple of years ago … but this would be different.[15] What, Hungarians killin' the Austrian monarch, at a time when Hungary’s boilin' with unrest, when it’s known that Sissi supports its independence, and surrounds herself with worshippin' Magyars, and corresponds with Kossuth, and there’s even been rumour of a conspiracy to bestow the crown of Hungary on Prince Rudolf, who hates Papa and is as pro-Hungarian as his beautiful idiot of a mother?" He gave a mirthless bark of laughter. "Think what use the nationalists could make of those two half-wits, willin' or not! Casus belli, if you like! Civil war in Austria-Hungary—and how long before France and Germany and Russia, aye, and perhaps even England, were drawn in? And that is what will happen if Franz-Josef stops a Hungarian bullet."
Somewhere or other that downy bird Kipling observes that the lesson of the island race is to put away all emotion and entrap the alien at the proper time.[16] I learned it in my cradle, long before he wrote it, and have practised it all my life with some success, and only this difference, that for "entrap" I prefer to substitute "escape". The putting-away-emotion business ain’t always easy, but I like to think I managed it pretty well in the face of Starnberg’s disgusting proposal, concealing my shocked bewilderment before that grinning young devil and his steely-eyed accomplice as they watched to see how I would respond to their bombshell.
There was no point in protest or roaring refusal. As you know, I’d been press-ganged aboard the good ship Disaster before, by legions of experts from Palmerston to Lincoln, with the likes of Colin Campbell and Alick Gardner and U. S. Grant and Broadfoot and J. B. Hickok and Raglan and God knew who else along the way, all urging hapless Flashy into the soup by blackmail and brute force, and nothing to be done about it. Ah, but this time there was, you see, with the Austrian border drawing nearer by the minute, so I must bide my time and delude the aliens as seemed best, listening to their lunatic notions as though I might be persuadable, and waiting my chance to cut and run. My strong card was that despite Willem’s menaces, they’d made it plain that they wanted me as a willing ally; I must play on that, but not too hard. The question was, which role to adopt (ain’t it always?), balancing righteous outrage at the way I’d been treated against the chivalrous impulses which they’d expect from an officer and gentleman. So now I let out a soft "Ha!" and gave Willem my most sardonic stare.
"Are we , indeed? Just the two of us, eh? Well, setting aside your optimism and impudence, perhaps you’ll tell me how, precisely?" "You mean you’re game?" cries he eagerly. "You’re with us?" "Suppose you tell me why I should be."
"How can you not?" Kralta couldn’t believe her ears, like a queen with a farting courtier. "With the peace of Europe in the balance, and the lives of thousands, perhaps millions, at stake?"
"Ah, but are they? Forgive me if after being hoodwinked, lied to, held against my will, and threatened with prison and pistols, I: can’t help wondering if this great tale of a plot is true."
"Of course it’s true!" cries Willem. "Heavens, man, why should we invent it?" I gave this the shrug it deserved, and he cursed softly. "Look here, if you’re in a bait ’cos you’ve been bobbled and made a muffin of—" he sounded like a third-form fag "—well, I don’t wonder, but can’t you see we had no choice? Bismarck was sure we’d have to force your hand, and that this was the only way. Havin' seen you, I ain’t so sure he’s right." He ran a hand through his hair, and leaned forward, looking keen. "You ask me how you and I can stop the Holnup, and I’ll tell you the ins and outs presently, but in principle, now—ain’t it a stunt after your own heart? As I told you, nothin' smoky, but a dam' good deed, and a rare adventure! Why, the old guv’nor would have jumped at it—and you’d ha' been the first he’d have wished to have alongside!"
"And if you cannot forgive the deceits we have practised," put in Kralta, "think of the cause we serve. You have done brave deeds for your Queen and country, but nothing nobler than this." She hadn’t the style or figurehead to look pleading, but she absolutely laid a hand on mine, and her glance had more promise than appeal in it. "For my part, if I can make any amends …" She ventured a toothy smile, pressing my fin. "Please … say you will not fail us. All depends on you."
