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Updated: July 13, 2025
Beaumanoir, discreetly peeping through the window over Poluski's shoulder, saw something that perplexed him. "I say, Alec," he exclaimed, "I thought you told me that Stampoff's man Bosko was a thoroughly reliable sort of chap." "I have always found him so." "Well, just at present he looks jolly like a deserter. He is making a speech to the mob and tearing off his uniform obligato.
Bosko was undoubtedly the first to arrive with the news, and all was quiet at the President's as I rode past. I noted that especially. By the way, Prince Michael is here; came this morning, I am told. The Princess accompanied him. Does your Majesty intend going to them at once? I have already sent an orderly to announce your safety." Alec looked at his watch. "Five minutes past four," he said.
Lest any words of his might stop it, he vanished. He must have hurried, too, since Bosko had joined his master before Beliani's messenger reached the anxious conspirators with Alec's answer. There was no need to ask if the Albanian had brought the weapons. They were tucked ostentatiously in his belt. Alec looked him squarely in the eyes. "I think I can depend on you, Bosko," said he.
Bosko, the taciturn Albanian whom he had now definitely appointed as his confidential attendant, was standing near the table with a bundle of documents that demanded the King's signature.
Bundling his trunks out into the corridor, he closed and locked the door, and the click of the moving bolt must have sent a tremor through the stiff limbs of the three worthies who lay huddled together inside. Bidding Bosko hurry over his own preparations, he descended to the courtyard. A number of troopers, standing by their horses' heads, sprang to attention when he appeared.
As it happened, the various items were mere formalities, and when he wrote "Alexis R." for the last time, Bosko and the soldier left the room, and the frightened little Pole found himself alone with the King. "Now," said Alec kindly, "tell me what you want and why you are so afraid?" Sobieski at once plunged into a rambling statement.
Stampoff, who had been following the vanishing figure of Beaumanoir's emissary with suspicious eyes, turned and looked at the newcomer. "Oh, that is Bosko," he said, "my servant yours, too, for that matter. You can trust Bosko with your life. Can't he, you dog?" "Oui, m'sieur!" said Bosko.
Oddly enough, the Paris correspondent of "The Budapest Gazette" pointed out that Prince Michael's son was playing polo in the Bois during the afternoon of Tuesday. The journalist little dreamed that Alec was reading his sarcastic comments on the Delgrado lack of initiative at Budapest at midnight on Wednesday. The Albanian servant accompanied him. "Leave everything to Bosko," said the General.
Brains are far more useful than swords in Delgratz to-day, and this, at the best, is but a gilded toy." Stampoff was already inside a closed carriage, and Bosko was holding the door open for Alec, who gave the driver clear instructions before he entered. The vehicle rattled off, and Stampoff swore bluntly. "Gods! I thought there would be a row," he growled.
His hurried search was not rewarded, and Alec, scarcely understanding him, asked Stampoff who had given the alarm. "Bosko, of course. He came tearing up to the War Office like a madman. Had any other brought the same message I really should not have believed it." "Then you heard nothing of a waiter from this hotel, a waiter named Sobieski?" "Nothing, your Majesty.
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