An American Emperor: the story of the Fourth Empire of France

Front matter

An American Emperor THE FOOTMAN WAS BACKING ACROSS THE HALL AND UP THE STAIRS. (Frontispiece, see page 29.) An American Emperor Œbe £tor£ of tbe jfourtb Empire of jfrance BY LOUIS TRACY AUTHOR OF "THE FINAL WAR," "THE SHADOW HAND," &C, &C. I LLUSTRATED London C. ARTHUR PEARSON LIMITED HENRIETTA STREET, W.C. [All rights reserved 1897 Copyrighted Abroad] THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO ONE WHO TOOK THE KEENEST INTEREST IN ITS PROGRESS, AND READ EACH PAGE AS IT WAS WRITTEN — MY WIFE

Preface

Personally, I like Vansittart. If you like him, and demonstrate your regard in the eloquent silence of the published price, I will tell you something of his subsequent history at the earliest possible date. L. T. 92, Maida Vale, W. June, 1897. CONTENTS CHAPpXge I. A BOX AT THE OPERA ! II. MONSIEUR ET MADEMOISELLE n III. THE REFUSAL AND THE RESOLVE . . -17 IV. MUNITIONS OF WAR . 2(, V. AN INVASION OF PARIS -35 VI. JEROME IS PUZZLED 42 VII. A CHALLENGE 49 VIII. A STARTLING SCHEME 57 IX. HOW VANSITTART BECAME A FRENCHMAN .... 66 X. VANSITTART'S PROPOSAL 74 XI. ON THE VERGE OF THE DESERT 83 XII. THE BATTLE OF EL HEGEF 93 XIII. A TOMB IN THE WILDERNESS IOO XIV. VANSITTART RIDES FOR A FALL 109 XV. A STORM BREWING . . 117 XVI. A RIVAL PRINCE 1 24 XVII. THE STORM BURSTS ........ 133 XVIII. HOW JEROME ENJOYED HIS HOLIDAY .... 142 XIX.

DE TOURNON'S DOWNFALL . . ... 149 XX. SOME ROYALTIES AND OTHERS 157 XXI. THE RIVALS 1 65 Contents X CHAP. PAGE XXII. A CAPTURED LION 174 XXIII. MURDER AS A FINE ART — WITH ILLUSTRATIONS . . 1 83 XXIV. THE MEETING OF DIRECTORS 190 XXV. HOW THE SAHARA WAS FLOODED. .... I98 XXVI. A COMBAT OF MONARCHS 207 XXVII. INTROSPECTIVE 2 1 3 XXVIII. ADUMBRATIONS 219 XXIX. INTRIGUE 226 XXX. TWO WOMEN ......... 234 XXXI. THE SOIREE 242 XXXII. A MINISTERIAL PANIC ....... 249 XXXIII. THE PRESIDENT TAKES ACTION ..... 257 XXXIV. VANSITTART MEETS THE CABINET ..... 266 XXXV. A BLOODLESS REVOLUTION . . . . . . 274 XXXVI. THE PRINCESSE MARCHESI ...... 281 XXXVII. THE CONSPIRATORS ....... 289 XXXVIII. THE SIEGE OF ST. CLOUD ...... 295 XXXIX. THE CONSPIRACY ENDS 305 XL. ARIZONA JIM SPEAKS HIS MIND 315 XLI. THE CORONATION 323 XLII.

"SAHARA LIMITED" WOUND UP 33I LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS THE FOOTMAN WAS BACKING ACROSS THE HALL AND UP THE stairs ......... Frontispiece PAGE THERE WAS A SILENT RESTRAINT IN HER UNAFFECTED RECEPTION 1 8 " M. DE TOURNON ! DO NOT TRUST HIM ! HE IS OUR ENEMY " . 46 FROM THE CROWD OF NATIVES CAME AN AWFUL YELL OF TERROR 85 THE AGED PRIEST . . . INVITED THEM BY SIGNS TO ENTER . I05 HE EMPTIED SADDLE AFTER SADDLE OF THEIR OCCUPANTS 1 14 IT WAS THE PLEASANTEST RIDE HE HAD HAD IN HIS LIFE . 141 THREE OF THE MOST FAMOUS MEN IN FRANCE .... 161 BEFORE HE COULD UTTER A WORD, HIS HEAD AND ARMS WERE MUFFLED IN A BLANKET 1 77 " IT HAS COST A MILLION STERLING FOR EACH GLASS " . . 206 M. RIBOU'S DEEP, DARK EYES LOOKED KEENLY AT THE YOUNG MAN'S FACE 219 IT WAS MONSTROUS : IT WAS THE BETRAYAL OF FRANCE . . 249 "OH, MR. VANSITTART, WHY ARE THESE SOLDIERS COMING HERE?" 264 DISGUSTED AND DISAPPOINTED THE EX-MINISTERS OF THE REPUBLIC PASSED OUT INTO THE NIGHT 272 HE WAS AMAZED TO HEAR DE TOURNON SHRIEKING WITH LAUGHTER 314 " THE MORE THEY CHEER ME THE BETTER IT IS FOR YOU " .

Chapter I

A BOX AT THE OPERA IEROME K. VANSITTART was the richest man in the world. He owned vast territories ; he controlled railways and fleets ; cities paid him tribute, and myriads of workers toiled that his wealth might magnify unceasingly. In a word, he was a State rather than an individual. Computations of the amount of his fortune differed by scores of millions sterling, and the public estimate of his riches was based more upon cubical measurements than the common standard of dollars and cents. Thus, when the Sunday edition of the New York HERALD sought to enlighten its readers as to the financial calibre of their most remarkable fellow-citizen, it summed him up as follows : " If Vansittart wished to build his Fifth Avenue residence of solid gold he could do so, and then pave the Avenue and West 57th Street with silver in front of his house."

The WORLD, which was nominally opposed to him, stuck to the illustration : " Vansittart is going to lay out 58th Street in copper," it said. " He has just added a cent per ton to freight rates on the New York Central." Of course the democratic JOURNAL must develop the phrase. " There is trouble on Wall Street," wrote the city editor. " Vansittart shook up Lake Shores yesterday, and knocked diamond sparks out of every bear on 'Change." Strange circumstance had conspired to produce this man — the economic phenomenon of the United States. He was the heir of the princes of American industry. A weird medley of marriage and death had added here a fair domain, there a huge section of some populous commune. Two trans-continental railroads had scarce fallen to his lot before the chief riverway of the Eastern States was added to the inheritance, to be quickly succeeded by three magnificent lines of Atlantic steamers.

He was conscious only of the power of his money. Its extent could merely be approximately gauged by annual valuation. It was possible, therefore, for him to suddenly carry out strange resolves which shook the financial world by their magnitude and thoroughness. On one occasion, whilst travelling to St. Louis from Chicago, his train narrowly escaped being wrecked in a collision caused by two jealously competing companies' tracks crossing each other. By telegraph he promptly instructed his agents to buy up both systems. The marvellous sequel to the story came when within twelve months the receipts were quad rupled by judicious management and economical administration. For the first time in their history the lines paid a dividend. Again, he was but ill-served in a hotel by a careless waiter. Vansittart stepped out to the office, exchanged a few words with the proprietor, wrote a cheque, and returned.

" I now own this place," he said to the waiter, "and if you don't look after the comfort of the guests, including myself, you will be discharged." Of course the tale was told, with its inevitable result — the hotel soon required to be enlarged to accommodate the crowds that flocked to it. Demagogues who thundered fierce philippics against the unprecedented aggregation of riches in the lap of this one individual invariably added, as though grudgingly and deprecating the fact : " Personally, Vansittart is an uncommonly nice fellow." And this was but the bare truth. He might best be described as a splendid example of the cultured American gentleman, which means that he was clever, polished, strong in principle, and weak only in his affections, generous to the utmost limit of common sense, courteous and considerate to all who came within reach of his magnetic personality.

He was young, but twenty-six years of age, when this strange and eventful history opened ; athletic, as his school record at Winchester (in England) and his college triumphs at Yale clearly showed ; somewhat inclined to be studious, but in unexpected directions of which his ordinary scholastic course gave slight signs. Languages and engineering were his professed hobbies, and in these he excelled. Only his few intimate friends realised that some day he might perhaps write an introspective book that would astonish the world, and its title would be : " Influences that Mould A Box at the Opera 3 Character," for no other man of his years had read so much or thought so deeply concerning this, his favourite subject for speculation and comparative analysis. Had Vansittart's own wishes been consulted in the ordering of his destiny, he would have gone through life in the leisured ease of a man whose pleasant patrimony is doled out to him by quarterly payments from Government stocks.

But in his case this was impossible. Inheriting more ample revenues and more real power than any crowned king, and finding, when he came to man's estate, that anything like personal supervision of the manifold interests he controlled was out of the question, he nevertheless firmly established an all-pervading sense of fairness and justice in the conduct of his affairs. Himself a miracle of individualism, he was an ardent advocate of the collective principle. One remarkable outcome of the spirit and practice of comradeship which he had engendered among his subordinates was that, at the end of five years after he had attained his majority, his wealth had consolidated to a degree that astounded men of narrow intellectual calibre, whilst it gratified his own utilitarian theories. Although in manner and conversation a versatile and well informed man of the world, his tastes were simple.

A high tempered horse, a readable book, a perfect gun, a well-balanced salmon-rod — these were his chief desires. For the rest, the potentiality of money had ceased, or it had not yet begun. And he had never been in love. A vulgar attachment had no charms for him, and he drew back nervously from the social environments which must inevitably surround him when he at last contracted a union suitable to his rank and condition. As this, at any rate, was the explanation he offered to his friends when they rallied him on the question of matrimony, the experi enced reader will quickly perceive that the one woman in the world for whom he would risk far more than the thraldom of married life had not yet flitted forth from the chaos of humanity into his existence. Yet on the night when this story opens he was preoccupied to an unusual degree, and the inspiring cause was a woman.

The magnificent Opera House on Broadway was crammed with fashionable New York. A good opera by a French company was produced that evening for the first time, and expectation rose high concerning the work. Seats were at a premium, and had steadily advanced in price during weeks past. When New York Society returns to the capital from Newport or Saratoga, it travels in a groove, and woe betide the fashionable dame unable to see and be seen at this premiere — the culminating point of a brilliant season. Even Vansittart, lounging easily in his comfortable box on the first tier, felt glad that he was spared the crush and bustle of the stalls and circle, and he seldom congratulated himself upon the immunity from worry conferred by wealth, for he knew too well what nonsense it was to think that money could buy freedom from care.

But he had dined well, with his greatest friend, Dick Harland, an Englishman with a sound heart, a healthy appetite, and a poorly lined pocket, who had left him for the moment to drive to his hotel for a forgotten overcoat. The two were classmates at Winchester, and had remained faithful to their boyish liking for each other. Harland was now visiting New York, but he refused to stay at Vansittart's mansion, nor would he allow his all-powerful comrade to put him in the way of developing his scanty resources. His explanation was characteristic. " I regard you always as Jerry Vansittart," he wrote, " the chap who used to go shares with me in sixpennyworth of gingerbread and oranges, when either of us was broke at the end of the term, and I feel that if I met you now as a social equal, or took your help in forwarding my career " (Dick's career threatened to develop into that useful but unre munerative calling, a gentleman jockey), "we would not be quite the same to each other.

Give me a quiet hour during my visit to New York, when we can have a good jaw about old times, and I shall be more than pleased." Vansittart humoured his wish, but the hour had spread into a whole afternoon, and Harland could not decline the subsequent dinner and a vacant chair in the millionaire's box at the opera. Whilst awaiting the arrival of his friend, Vansittart, who was effectively screened from observation by a curtain, leisurely surveyed the occupants of the other boxes. Most of the people were known to him, and those who were not were uninteresting, until his eye lit upon the form of a lady who sat in lonely state directly opposite to him. True, she was not unaccompanied, as an older woman sat near her, but in a manner suggesting an attendant rather than a chaperon. In repose, the face of the fair unknown had the clearly-cut outline and delicate grace of a beautiful statue.

But when she A Box at the Opera 5 turned to speak to her companion it manifestly brightened with rare animation, and when she smiled, Vansittart thought he had never before seen so lovely a woman. She was simply, almost poorly, dressed, yet in her dark hair sparkled a tiara that a queen might have worn, and Vansittart felt that under ordinary circumstances none but persons of considerable means could afford to rent a box at the Metropolitan Opera House on such an occasion. Who was she ? Not a New Yorker, as no such woman could be in the front rank of society and yet remain outside his circle of acquaintances. She must be a foreigner, a Frenchwoman, or an Italian, for her alternating moods of stateliness and vivacity, the elegance of her manner, and the dark colour of her eyes and hair, gave reasonable suggestion of either nationality.

Vansittart was first puzzled, then interested, then absurdly annoyed. What did it possibly matter to him who the lady was ? So he settled himself back in his box to listen to the first strains of the overture, and in the next moment found himself hesitating whether or not to ring for an attendant, and try to solve the mystery. Now, he was a man who never allowed himself to waver in a resolution. The very fact that he detected a momentary dis inclination to pursue the inquiry farther was sufficient to impel him to forthwith press the button of the electric bell, and in that simple act he committed himself to the greatest task ever yet undertaken by one man. The message spasmodically jarred into life on the indicator was destined to fill the civilised world with its clamour, but the obsequious attendant who came in answer to the bell little knew that he was the first of a countless host of men and women who would bow before that imperious summons.

" Ask the acting manager to be good enough to see me at his convenience," said Vansittart, and in a little while the gentleman thus designated entered, for in such a matter the millionaire's wish was law. " Mr. Frohman," explained Vansittart, " I wish to know some thing of the lady in the opposite box. Can you tell me her name and any facts connected with her ? " " She is something of an enigma, sir," was the answer. " The name in which she engages her box is ' Mademoiselle Honorine de Montpensier.' She occupies a suite of apartments in the Netherlands Hotel, and her companion is the Comtesse de Fontainebleau. Notwithstanding her unassuming name, the younger lady is obviously a woman of considerable distinction." Both men were looking straight at the persons they were dis cussing, and Mademoiselle de Montpensier noticed them.

She slightly withdrew from observation, and the Comtesse at the same moment moved her chair, not from necessity, but seemingly by force of habit. Vansittart regretted his involuntary rudeness when too late. "The Comtesse de Fontainebleau treats her as though she were a reigning monarch," he said with a smile. " There are kingdoms of all sizes, sir," replied Mr. Frohman. " Some are no larger than an ordinary room." " Why do you say that ? " " Because this young lady puzzles me. I am certain that she is not rich, yet she invariably orders our most expensive box, and will accept no other. She is very gracious and pleasant in manner, but extremely reserved. She wears finer diamonds than any woman in America, diamonds that cannot be bought nowa days, but her dress is plain and not costly. There are many contradictions in her speech and habits, and I am only certain of one thing in regard to her.

She is undoubtedly a well-born and most charming woman." " How is it I have not seen her before ? " " She has only lived in New York for about a month, sir, and I am afraid that we are now honoured by your presence for the first time this season." Vansittart smiled. " You are right, Mr. Frohman," he said ; " I must really mend my ways." At this moment Harland entered. " Sorry for being late, old chap," he exclaimed. " I mislaid my check, and the scoundrel in charge of the cloak-room treated me like a thief until I found it. By Jove, what a stunning woman ! " His eyes were riveted on Mademoiselle de Montpensier, who had leaned forward in her absorption with the beautiful strains of the adagio movement. The others laughed at his words, and the official left the two friends together. " What has amused you ?

" said Harland. Vansittart told him of the preceding conversation, and the sub ject dropped. As the night progressed the American repeatedly found himself covertly looking at the fair unknown and speculating A Box at the Opera 7 upon her identity. He was so ill at ease that even the unobservant Harland could not help commenting on it. " What is the matter, Jerry ? " he said at last ; " you don't seem up to the mark. Had you dined at my hotel I should have blamed the cook ; but I suppose that such an explanation can hardly apply to that palace of yours in Fifth Avenue." Not often was Vansittart cornered for a phrase. But this time he could offer no valid excuse for his preoccupation, and without troubling to analyse his motives he replied : " The fact is, Dick, that I feel something of the terrible isolation which, we are told, surrounds a powerful king.

I suffer the inflic tion of being regarded as a great potentate in the world of finance and commerce, and I often shudder at the thought that I have no real friend, no hearty chum, as you used to be, old fellow." The unwonted bitterness in his tone surprised both speaker and listener, and neither uttered a word for some moments. " So you even suspect me," said Harland, at length, colouring deeply. " Suspect ! No. But why do you pretend that our lives must practically remain apart? Why do you insist upon the difference between our stations ? Why do you regard the payment of a hotel bill as marking your independence? " Vansittart was personally amazed at this outburst. He had harboured no such thoughts. He was the last man in the world to give voice to them even if felt. Whence did they spring, and what semi-hysterical state caused them to blurt forth unbidden and uncontrolled ?

Harland was astounded. " Well, this is a rum go," he said after another pause. " Here am I, a poor devil buying racehorses on commission, accused of spurning the friendship of my greatest pal, who unfortunately happens to be the boss millionaire on earth. I'll tell you what, Jerry. I can't write a letter worth a cent, and I am a frightful duffer at saying ' No ' when I want the other chap to think I would like to say ' Yes,' but if you will call me your secretary, and give me an attic and five hundred a year, I'll stick to you till you tell me to quit." " Call it five thousand and it's a bargain," cried Vansittart eagerly. Harland hesitated. " Honestly, Jerry, I am not worth it," he said, adding with hesitation, "unless you let me look after your stable, too. I might save the money there."

Vansittart laughed heartily. "You have hit the nail on the head first time, Dick," he said. " You shall not be my secretary, but my Master of the Horse ! " The two men shook hands on the contract, whilst Mademoiselle Honorine de Montpensier, attracted by their unusual behaviour, gazed at them steadily for a little while through her lorgnettes. And she had the faculty which is invaluable to a monarch — she never forgot a face.

Chapter II

monsieur et mademoiselle DIDN'T think you were so fond of music, Jerry. As for me, I am just getting the hang of it. Hitherto, I believed that the ' Post-horn Galop ' knocked everything, but Signor What's-his-name knows a bit, doesn't he ? " Vansittart chuckled as he listened to Harland's remarks. Five successive nights had they followed the dulcet strains of French and Italian romantic opera, until Dick, in despair, seriously endeavoured to grasp the meaning of that which enthusiasts raved about. It was not the voice of Plancon nor the baton of Mancinelli that brought Vansittart to the theatre. But with reference to the lady he had been mute, and he heard with apparent nonchalance Harland's frequent and highly laudatory comments upon her appearance and style. " What a figure for the box seat in a spin down to Hurling ham !

" Dick said. " How she would paralyse 'em on the Row ! She's not unlike Evelyn. You remember my sister, don't you ? Little thing with flaxen hair and blue eyes. You sold a new bat at half price so as to raise the price of some chocolates when mother brought her to school one day. Evelyn looks smart now, I can assure you ; but this one is on the dark and tragic side. Wouldn't you like to see her in war paint?" " What on earth are you talking about ? " laughed Vansittart. " I mean that she must be killing when dressed for dinner or a dance, and not in everlasting black. She ought to wear a coronet and a fur cloak." Harland had an ermine robe in his mind, but he was happily oblivious of conventionality in phrase or thought. Nevertheless Vansittart was still separated from the lady by the width of the theatre, and he ascertained by judicious inquiry that she had not evinced the slightest curiosity concerning him.

He felt intuitively that to seek an introduction in the ordinary way was hopeless. Such a woman was beyond the reach of society, and to gain her friendship or regard he must adopt some unusual method. Why he was so anxious to meet her, or what the result' might be, he resolutely declined to ask himself. Whilst Dick was puzzling his brains to find out why the writer of the " argument " should call upon him to admire the consecutive fifths in the intermezzo, Vansittart was working out a plan of action. " Dick," he said suddenly, " my trainer in Virginia writes to say that he wants me to inspect some brood mares before they join my stud. I am somewhat pressed for time just now. Will you go for me, starting to-morrow, and returning towards the close of the week ? " " Like a bird ! " cried the unconscious Dick.

" I know more about that game than I do about ' themes for the French horn ' and ' symphonic diapasons.' " Next day, as the result of a conference with Mr. Frohman, Vansittart rented every available box in the theatre for a month. He found that Mademoiselle de Montpensier paid daily for her accommodation. The clerk in the box-office also had his instructions, and when the Comtesse de Fontainebleau presented herself he explained that Mr. Jerome K. Vansittart had acquired all the boxes for the use of his friends, but had instructed him to say that the Comtesse and Mademoiselle would gratify him were they to use their box exactly when they chose. " Am I to understand that we can pay Mr. Vansittart instead of the management of the theatre ? " demanded the lady coldly. " No, madam ; the boxes are reserved for his guests."

" We are not Mr. Vansittart's guests," said the Comtesse with increasing asperity, and she swept out of the theatre. As the result, neither lady was seen again, and Vansittart had not only the trouble of issuing invitations to fill his ill-advised purchase, but also the mortification of knowing that he figured as an ill-mannered plutocrat in the eyes of her whom he wished to conciliate. One day he met her at the door of a fashionable shop in West Twenty-third Street. He was so surprised that he looked at her too earnestly, and she quickened her pace to regain her carriage. A crevice in the pavement caught the point of her parasol and jerked it from her hand. A newspaper boy darted Monsieur et Mademoiselle 11 forward, returned the article, and was rewarded with a " quarter " and a sweet smile.

Vansittart quietly swore at himself, ordered six dozen parasols from an astounded store-clerk, and discovered, when they arrived, that he had meant silk ties. The incident put him in good humour again. " I cannot for the life of me tell why I am making such an ass of myself," he reflected, " but I will speak to that woman somehow, even if she lives ever afterwards in the belief that I am a frightful cad. In such a case one longs for the easy pertness of the youth of Broadway." He tried a visit to the Netherlands Hotel, and charmed the manager by his interest in the affairs of that flourishing institution. " Yes, sir, we have a good many people who stay here for long periods," he said, in reply to a question. " We have one pair of ladies now who are very distinguished. They give no trouble ; but the younger one, who carries herself like an empress, actually wanted Louis Quatorze furniture in her sitting-room.

Why, sir, it costs a small fortune to import it." The cue was sufficient. Within two hours Vansittart owned the hotel, and a Louis Quatorze suite was forwarded the same afternoon. What would happen next he didn't trouble to inquire, but events marched as rapidly as the fifth act of a transpontine melodrama. That evening he received a delicately perfumed note, with a silver "H" and a fleur-de-lis stamped thereon, and it read as follows : Mademoiselle Honorine de Montpensier desires to see Mr. Jerome K. Vansittart. Mademoiselle de Montpensier will await him at the Netherlands Hotel, to-morrow, at four p.m. This message utterly nonplussed him. It was, in the first instance, quite inexplicable that there should be a communication of any sort from the lady, and this unusual circumstance was only made more complex by the emphatic phraseology employed.

Once, when in London, he had been " commanded " to visit the Queen at Windsor, but with the exception of the, to an American, unaccustomed word, the rest of the invitation was couched in language of dignified courtesy. Here, on the other hand, he detected a hostile, almost menacing, tone, coupled with an imperative " fail not herein, or ! " Why, the thing sounded like a lettre de cachet. And how came it that the name of the older lady was wholly omitted ? Abandoning speculation as futile, he surprised Dick after dinner by taking an unexpected interest in the development and prospects of the Virginian stud farm, and, strange to relate, only slept the more soundly because of the confused state into which his ideas had become entangled whilst pursuing his strange quest. Precisely at the appointed time he presented himself at the Netherlands Hotel.

At the entrance to the ladies' suite he was received by a solemn porter, who inspected his card and ushered him at once into a spacious chamber, announcing his name with the painful precision of a Frenchman speaking English. His first impression was that he had chosen the Louis Quatorze furniture with a singularly happy eye for effect, and then, in a somewhat dim light, he became aware that Mademoiselle Honorine de Montpensier rose when he entered the room, whilst the Comtesse de Fontainebleau, who was present, remained seated and completely ignored him. He would have spoken, but the younger lady anticipated him. In a singularly sweet voice, which rendered her foreign accent delightfully piquante and but ill accorded with her frigid politeness, she said : "We have sent for you, Mr. Vansittart, to request an expla nation of your attitude towards us.

Whilst we cannot complain of any direct rudeness or incivility on your part, we cannot fail to notice that you are, for some reason best known to yourself, striving to thrust your personality upon us. That which was merely an inconvenience with regard to the opera has now become somewhat distressing, as it perhaps compels us to leave a quiet and suitable abode. May we ask in what way we have earned these disagreeable attentions ? " During this address the lady looked at him steadily. She made no attempt to relieve the situation by asking him to be seated, and although she used the plural form of speech the other woman gave no sign of acquiescence or even of interest. Her attitude was one of complete indifference. Vansittart would have been confused had not a strong sense of resentment come to his aid.