The Prince gazed round the table. "You, Sherry. He does not know you. You shall be the writer of our letter."
"It has always been my aim to write for Your Majesty's pleasure."
"This will be as good as a play, I promise you."
"Other men's plays, perhaps Highness. Not mine."
"But other men's plays can be highly diverting sometimes, Sherry. And as you will have a hand in this affair you may lend us a touch of your genius."
"How can I repay your graciousness, sir, but by complying with Your Highness's desires."
"It shall be done after supper and delivered to the Major first thing tomorrow morning." The Prince laughed, thinking of the Major's reactions when he received the note.
He talked of the Major through supper and as soon as it was over left his guests and taking Fox, Sheridan and a few favourite companions with him retired to an ante-room to write the letter.
Writing had always given him great pleasure and he could never see a pen without wanting to pick it up and compose flowery sentences. It was this habit which had proved so disastrous in the Perdita affair.
Now he sat down and with his friends looking over his shoulder wrote:
"St. James's, Sunday morning "The company who attended the ball on Friday last at St. James's present their compliments to Major Hanger and return him their unfeigned thanks for the variety with which he enlivened the insipidity of the evening's entertainment. The gentlemen want words to describe their admiration of the truly grotesque and humorous figure which he exhibited; and the ladies beg leave to express their acknowledgments for the lively and animated emotions that his stately, erect and perpendicular form could not fail to excite in their delicate and susceptible bosoms. His gesticulations and martial deportment were truly admirable and have raised an impression which will not soon be effaced at St. James's."
The Prince ended with a flourish.
"Now, Sherry, Hanger does not know your handwriting, and I flatter myself there is a touch of style about that letter which could be attributed to you. So, I pray you, copy it out and tomorrow it shall be despatched to our entertaining Major and I am sure from such a character we can expect some fun."
Sheridan sat down and copied the letter.
"First thing in the morning," chuckled the Prince, "it shall be delivered; and soon afterwards I shall send him an invitation to dine with me. You, my dear Sherry, will not I trust take it amiss if for once you are not included in the invitation."
Sheridan bowed: "Always ready to forego my greatest pleasures in the service of Your Highness."
The Prince could scarcely wait until morning for the delivery of the letter and its results.
Fox, watching the affair with a cynical amusement, thought: He must have his diversions, but he is young yet.
Dinner was a less glittering occasion than it had been on the previous evening and took place in the silver-walled dining room among the red and yellow granite pillars. The Prince had invited Major Hanger to sit near him and lost little time in bringing the conversation to the ball at St. James's.
"What an effect your appearance had on the ladies, Major. There we were all dressed like popinjays and you ... in your uniform. You were indeed a man"
The Major swallowed the bait; his eyes bulged and his face grew scarlet.
"Your Highness, I have had a most insulting letter. I have been held up to ridicule, it is more than mortal man can endure. Your Highness must forgive my anger.but, Sir, I have been insulted."
The Prince expressed concern. But how was this?
The Major brought the letter from his pocket. "If Your Highness would cast your eye over this you would see what I mean."
The Prince read the letter with exclamations of sympathy. "No doubt whatever," he agreed, "the writer of this letter means to insult you."
At this corroboration the Major's anger increased. "Blitz und Holle" he shouted. "I swear that if I could discover the writer of this letter I would demand satisfaction."
The Prince agreed that in the Major's position he would feel exactly the same. "How do you feel, Charles?"
Fox, playing up as was expected, replied that he considered it an insult to turn the Major's stately, erect and perpendicular figure to ridicule.
"I am determined to discover the writer," cried the Major.
"I think we should try to help to bring this fellow to his deserts," said the Prince. He picked up the letter. "By God, this handwriting! I swear it is familiar to me. What say you, Charles? Does it not remind you of that mischievous fellow Sheridan. Come, Charles, you know his writing well"
Fox took the letter and nodded. "No doubt of it," he said.
The Major's eyes bulged with indignation. "Playwrights I' he said. "They fancy themselves with a pen in the hand! By God, he shall regret this day." He turned to Captain Morris who was sitting nearby. "Sir, I wish you to take a challenge from me to Mr. Sheridan."
"Major," said the Prince, "I know it is my duty to attempt to persuade you against the action and this I do, but I am bound to say were I in your position nothing would deter me. But do consider, Sheridan has written this in one of his mad mischievous moods and he is a mad and mischievous fellow."
"Sir, I beg of Your Highness not to command me to forgo this duty. I have every wish to obey every command of Your Highness..."
The Prince bowed his head. "My sympathies are with you, Major. I will keep silent and may luck go with you."
"Now, Your Highness, having despatched this challenge to the fellow I will, with your permission, go to my lodgings and await the blackguard's answer."
"I understand your concern. You should lose no time. If he accepts your challenge you will have preparations to make."
As soon as the Major left a messenger was despatched to Sheridan asking him to report at Carlton House without delay so that the conspirators could plan the next move in what was to the Prince one of the most highly diverting practical jokes he had ever played.
It was daybreak in Battersea Fields. Captain Morris was with the Major, and Sheridan had chosen Fox as his second. In a carriage muffled up, hat well over his eyes, his face made up to resemble an older man, sat the Prince of Wales in the role of the surgeon who, Fox and Morris had agreed, must be in attendance.
The opponents faced each other; their seconds loaded the pistols; the signal to fire was given. The Major, a crack shot, aimed at the playwright but failed to hit him. The pistols were loaded a second time with the same result.
"God damn the fellow!" cried the Major. "What's wrong? Should have got him first time."
"The third time generally is effective," said Captain Morris and glanced towards the carriage in which the "surgeon' was seated trying to muffle his laughter.
Hie order was given to fire and Sheridan fell.
"By God, you have killed him, Major," cried Captain Morris. "Quick. We must get away while there is time."
Before the Major could protest he was hustled into a carriage and ordered the coachman to lose no time. Away rattled the carriage and the Prince alighted and reeling with laughter went over to the fallen playwright.
"Well played, Sherry," he said. "Get up. By God, I'll swear you never had a better scene in any of your plays."
The Prince drove back to Carlton House laughing hilariously with Fox and Sheridan; but suddenly he was serious.
"What can it feel like to have killed a man?"
"The first emotion would be gratification for having avenged an insult," said Fox.
"Then remorse for having taken life, perhaps," added Sheridan. "But perhaps fear of the law would come first."
"Remorse," mused the Prince. "I like the fellow in a way. He's grotesque but he amuses me. I shall let him know at once that you are not dead, Sherry."