If any man—having lived a bachelor to early middle life, has then found his ideal, and has been, unexpectedly and undeservedly, favored with her love, and then, within two hours thereafter and in her very presence, has been claimed by another woman as her husband—that man will be able to appreciate something of my state of mind. No one else could, so it is not worth while attempting to describe it.
I admit I lay awake most of the night trying to determine how to meet the Spencer woman's attack. And I had reached no satisfactory decision when I went down to breakfast.
The formal ceremony of my taking over the Governorship of Dornlitz was fixed for noon. I would be occupied the remainder of the afternoon at headquarters; and then, in the evening, I was to give a dinner to the ranking military officers in the Capital. I wanted to get some plan of action arranged at once and, feeling the need of clear-headed counsel, I dispatched Bernheim to the American Embassy with a request that Courtney join me immediately. I had just finished my meal when he was announced, and we repaired to my private cabinet.
The top paper on my desk was the report of the Secret Police upon "The occupants of the third box on the right," which I had ordered the previous evening. I carried it to Courtney and we read it together. It was long and detailed and covered all the movements of the trio since their entry into Dornlitz.
In effect it was: That the elderly couple were only chance acquaintances of the younger woman, having met her on the train en route from Paris; that they had reached the Capital the previous day and had registered at the Hotel Metzen as "Mr. and Mrs. James Bacon, New York City," and "Mrs. Armand Dalberg and maid, Washington, D. C.;" that the Mrs. Dalberg had remained in her apartments until evening, had then dined in the public dining room with the Bacons, and the three had then gone to the Opera; that no callers had been received by any of them, so far as known by the hotel's officials; that, after the Opera, they had been driven directly to the hotel and had gone into the Hanging Garden and had taken a table; that, presently, the one known as Mrs. Dalberg had intruded upon certain personages of high rank, who were at a near-by table; that, after a rather prolonged discussion, she had been escorted back to her companions, the Bacons (who had, meanwhile, remained at their table) by an Aide-de-Camp of one of the high personages; that the lady in question and the Bacons, very shortly thereafter, retired to their apartments. At six A. M.—when the report was dated—they were still in their respective apartments.
I flung the report on the desk.
"Damn that woman!" I exclaimed.
Courtney sat down, and the inevitable cigarette case came out.
"That's scarcely emphatic enough, my dear boy," he said. "Go into the next room and cut loose a bit."
"I've nothing else to cut loose with," I replied. "I used up everything, last night."
"Good," said he. "If the pressure is off, you are in shape to think."
I shook my head. "No, I'm not—that's why I sent for you—to do the thinking."
He picked up the Police report. "I'm glad she registered as Mrs. Armand Dalberg," he said.
"The devil you are!" I exclaimed.
He nodded. "The first problem to solve is: What motive this woman has in proclaiming herself your wife. There are only two motives possible, I think, and this registry utterly eliminates one of them."
"You mean it is not blackmail," I said.
"Exactly."
"And the other motive?"
"Revenge."
"Oh, no," I said; "that woman didn't come from America to Dornlitz simply for revenge."
"Very good," said Courtney. "Then, the motive is not hers and we must look elsewhere for it."
"If you mean she is only a tool," said I, "that is almost as unlikely as revenge."
"On the contrary, why couldn't it be both—and, also, a big pile of money?" he asked.
"Because," said I, "she would balk at the notoriety."
Courtney laughed. "Good, yellow gold, and plenty of it, is a wonderful persuader."
"Come," said I; "what's your guess in the matter?"
He tossed aside his cigarette and leaned a bit forward in his chair.
"The lady has been purchased by someone to come here and pose as your wife; the moving consideration to her was enough cash to make her independently rich and the pleasure of thus being able to square off with you, on her own account. That's my guess—and I fancy it's yours too," he ended.
I laughed. "Yes," said I; "it is. I spent the night over the mix and that's the best solution I could make."
Courtney lit a fresh cigarette, "Of course, it's Lotzen," said he. "And a very clever plot it is. No Princess and no Crown for you, my boy, until this Madame Armand Dalberg is eliminated—and, maybe, not even then."
"Your 'then' is the only rift in the cloud," said I. "Eliminate the Spencer woman, and, I think, I can manage."
He looked at me questioningly.
"Her Highness was very gracious to me last night," I explained—and I felt my face getting red.
Courtney got up and came over to me,
"Is it up to a hand-shake, old man?" he asked.
I nodded, and we gripped fingers.
"It would have been up to the King, to-morrow, but for this miserable wife business," said I.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "Lotzen does not hold all the cards—you've got a few trumps, too. It will be a pretty game."
"For the spectators," I supplemented.
"For you, too; when you get into the swing of it."
"I wish I had your happy way of viewing things," I said.
He laughed. "Oh, it's easy to view some other fellow's affairs happily. That is why a friend's advice is usually serviceable."
I took a pipe and began to fill it. "It's that advice I want," I said.
He was silent for a space. I smoked and waited.
"I suppose you had no opportunity to talk with the Princess after the supper, last night?" he said.
I smiled. "I drove with her to the Palace."
"Alone?" he exclaimed.
"Yes—she ordered me in with her and sent the Countess with Moore."
He sat up sharply. "Gad! Major, she's a treasure!" he exclaimed. "That tells me what I want to know: she has measured the Spencer woman's story."
"Both story and certificate," said I. "She says the one is a lie and the other a forgery."
He raised his hand emphatically. "My dear fellow," he said, sternly, "if you didn't get down on your knees, last night, and thank the good God for that brave girl up yonder in the Palace, you deserve to lose her—and I shall go over to Lotzen's side, myself."
"Well," said I, "I didn't. I was too busy thinking about and praising her."
"That's the same thing," he said. "I'll stay with you."
I got up and bowed.
"Thank you, Your Excellency," I said.
Then we both smiled.
"It's queer," said Courtney, "how, even in the most embarrassing difficulties, a woman's love makes a man's heart light."
I nodded. I was thinking of the drive to the Palace.
Courtney's laugh aroused me. "Come out of the brougham," he called.
"That is where I was," I admitted.
"The next thing," said he, "is to see that marriage certificate."
"If there be one," I questioned.
"There is one—of that you may be sure."
"She offered to show it to you, to-day," said I. "Call her bluff."
"I'm going to accept her offer, when I leave here. And, what's more, I shall see the certificate," he said. "This plot has been too well laid for the essentials to have been overlooked. I'll bet a twenty you were in New York City on the twenty-first of last December."
"Yes," said I, "I was. So it's up to proving the certificate a forgery."
He shook his head. "I fear we shall find it a perfectly regular certificate."
"You mean," said I, "that they have bribed some official to make a false record?"
"Just that."
"Then, if the woman, the official and the records all convict me, how am I to prove my innocence?" I demanded.
"By waiting for the enemy to make a blunder. They have already made one which results delightfully for you."
"I reckon I'm a trifle thick-headed, Courtney," I said. "You'll have to explain."
"Never mind the head, old man; it will be all right to-morrow. Their blunder is in having unwittingly sprung their trap on the very evening the Princess and you came to an understanding. Had they been even a few hours earlier you would not have dared to speak of love to her—and so you might not have had the King's daughter as a special advocate. On the other hand, had they waited a day longer, your betrothal would, doubtless, have received Frederick's approval, and have been formally proclaimed. How embarrassing, then, to the Princess; how intensely irritating to the King, and how particularly injurious to you in the eyes of the nation—the people would think you won her under false colors; and, though you proved your innocence a hundred times, the taint would always linger."
"You're right, Courtney," I exclaimed; "right as Gospel."
"Now, see how lucky you are: You have the Princess—you are sure of her and no one knows it. You go to the King, to-day; tell him the whole story of the Princess and you, and of this Spencer woman's claim and history. Ask him to suspend judgment until you can establish the falsity of her charge. If I know Frederick, you need have no fear of his answer."
"It's the only course," said I; "but, first, I would like to know the facts as to that certificate."
Courtney arose. "You shall have a copy of it before candle-light," he said. "Where can I see you, if there is anything of my interview with the lady I think you need to know?"
"I'll be here at six o'clock," said I.
"Very good—and, of course, not a word to-night to the King as to Lotzen. Let him guess that for himself."
"Trust me," I answered; "I'm getting more awake."
Then I sent for Moore. "Colonel Moore," I said (as Aide to a Field Marshal he was entitled to a Colonelcy, and had been gazetted to it in the orders of the previous evening), "has the scene in the Garden, last night, become public talk?"
"I fear so, sir," he replied.
"Come, no sugar—out with it."
"Well, Your Highness, the town rings with it. It's the sensation of the hour."
"Good," said I. "The more they talk, to-day, the less they will talk, to-morrow."
I paused, and looked him over. He was a thorough-bred; clean-cut, handsome, manly. I never saw a finer figure than he made in his blue and white uniform.
"Now, why wasn't the lady sensible, Colonel, and marry herself to you instead of to me?" I asked.
He fairly jumped. "God forbid," he exclaimed. Then, he laughed. "Besides, I'm thinking, sir, it wasn't looks she was after."
I laughed, too. "Go 'long with you," I said; "you deserve court-martial."
Then I sent him to the King with the request to be received at seven o'clock. He also carried a note to the Princess, telling her I would call at six thirty.
In due time, he returned: The King would receive me at the hour named. The Princess, however, sent her reply by a footman. It was a note; and, except that I was expected for sure atsix thirty, it is quite unnecessary to give its contents. They were not intended for general circulation. I might say, however, that the note was eminently satisfactory to me, and that I read it more than once. And it was in the inside pocket of my coat when I rode across to Headquarters to assume my new authority.
The ceremony was very brief. The retiring Governor, Marshal Perdez, with an Aide, met me at the causeway and escorted me to the large audience chamber, where His Majesty's formal order was read. Perdez then presented his staff, and the doors were thrown open and I received the officers of the Army and Navy on duty at the Capital. It was all over in an hour, and I was alone in my office with Bernheim.
I walked over to a window and stood there, in wondering reflection.
Less than three months ago, I was simply a Major in the American Army, with small hope of ever getting beyond a Colonel's eagles. The "Star" was so utterly unlikely that I never even considered the possibility. It was only a rainbow or a mirage; and I was not given to chasing either.
And, to-day, I looked down on the crowded Alta Avenue of Dornlitz—then, up at the portrait of my Sovereign—then, down at my uniform, with a Marshal's Insignia on the sleeve and the Princess Royal's note in the pocket.
What mirage could have pictured such realities! What rainbow could have appeared more dazzlingly evanescent!
Then I saw a Victoria approaching. And in it was the Spencer woman—brilliantly beautiful—haughtily indifferent. The passers-by stared at her; men stopped and gazed after; even women threw glances over their shoulders. And small wonder—for, the Devil knows, she was good to look upon.
As she came opposite me she looked up and our eyes met. I gave no greeting, you may be sure; but she leaned forward sharply and smiled and waved her hand. I gritted my teeth, and would have stepped back, but the crowd, following her direction, caught sight of me and a faint cheer went up. The men took off their hats and the women fluttered their kerchiefs. I bowed to them and saluted with my hand.
"Damn her!" I said, not knowing I spoke audibly. Then I remembered Bernheim; he was standing at another window.
"Colonel," said I, "did you see that woman in the Victoria?"
His heels came together with a click. "Yes, Your Highness.
"Have you heard of the occurrence in the Hanging Garden, last night?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Well, that's the lady," said I. "What do you think of her?"
He hesitated.
"Speak out," I said.
"I think it is absolutely incomprehensible how such a woman would lend herself to Lotzen's plot," he answered, instantly.
I looked at him in vast surprise.
"So, you have guessed it," I said.
"I know Lotzen, Your Highness."
I motioned to a chair. "Sit down," I said.
Then I told him the whole story—saving only so much as concerned the Princess individually. He was plainly pleased at my confidence—and I learned many things from him, that afternoon, which opened my eyes concerning some of the Court officials and Ministers.
It was exactly six o'clock when Courtney was announced. Even as he came into the room, he drew an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.
"A copy of the certificate," he said.
I read it very carefully. In effect, it certified that Patrick McGuire, an Alderman of the City of New York, had, on the twenty-first day of December, 190—, in that City, in the presence of John Edwards of said City, united in marriage Armand Dalberg, Major, U. S. Army, and Madeline Spencer, widow, of Washington, D. C.; there appearing, after due inquiry made, to be no legal impediment thereto; and the parties thereto having proven, on oath, their identity and their legal age.
"Well, I'm not a lawyer," said I, in disgust; "but this thing sounds pretty strong. I fancy it is about as close as I shall ever come to reading my own obituary."
"It's more than strong," said Courtney: "it's in strict conformity with the New York law.
"But, the license," I objected.
"None is required in New York."
I threw up my hands. "You saw the original certificate?" I asked.
"Yes. The lady, herself, had gone out, but had left it with her maid. And I have not the least doubt of its genuineness."
"Then, we are up to Alderman Patrick McGuire," I said.
"I cabled at noon to Washington asking the Department to obtain, immediately, full information as to his character and reputation."
"Courtney, you're a wonder," I said.
"I'm glad you approve," he answered. "I thought it well to move at once, so the inquiry could be in New York early this morning; and, even if it took the whole day to investigate, the answer should be here by midnight at the latest."
Just then, there was a knock on the door and a footman entered.
"For His Excellency, the American Ambassador," he said, and handed Courtney an envelope.
"Here it is, now," he said. "Cosgrove has hurried it to me."
Crossing to my desk he ran a knife under the flap and drew out a cablegram, glanced at it an instant, then, gave it to me without comment.
It was in cipher, of course; but, below it, Cosgrove had written the translation. It read:
"Individual named was killed last week by car at Twenty-third Street and Broadway. Character and reputation only ordinary. Integrity very doubtful. A professional ward politician."
"So," said I. "Exit the Alderman. It's a crying pity that car didn't get in its work four months ago."
"Let us be thankful for what it did do, last week."
"One lying mouth stopped," said I.
He nodded. "And only an inferior reputation left to bolster up his certificate."
I looked again at the copy. "I wonder if that car, by any possibility, might have hit Witness, John Edwards, too?"
Courtney smiled. "It's dollars to nickels the same blow killed them both."
"Then, it's my word against hers and the certificate."
"Not exactly. It's her word, her beauty and the certificate against your word, its corroborating circumstances and her history."
"That sounds logical," said I; "and yet, in fact, if there were nothing but her word it would still win out for Lotzen. I may not marry the Princess so long as another woman claims to be my wife."
Courtney frowned. "But, if you prove her a liar by cold facts?"
"It will not suffice," said I. "All doubt must be removed. She must admit her—error."
He raised his eyebrows, and out came the cigarette case.
"Then, do you appreciate that, until she does, you will have the disagreeable duty of preventing her from departing the Capital—certainly the Kingdom?"
"Practically that," I admitted. "I have already directed that she be not permitted to leave Dornlitz."
He shook his head. "There, you send me over to the Enemy. If she appeal to the Embassy I may not suffer her to be restrained. She is an American subject."
"Not at all," said I. "If she be my wife, she is a subject of His Majesty, Frederick the Third."
"Come, Major, that's not half bad," he laughed. "And I'll stand on it, too. So long as the lady claims to be the wife of a Grand Duke of Valeria, the American Ambassador will absolutely decline to interfere in her behalf."
"She may get powerfully tired of having me for a husband," I observed.
He studied the smoke-rings a bit.
"I wonder just how far it would be well for you to play the husband?" he mused.
"What's that?" I almost shouted.
"I mean, how far would she be willing to go in this wife business?"
"God knows—but the whole way, I fancy."
"Would it be worth while to bluff her by pretending to acknowledge her claim and, then, inviting her to take her place at the head of your establishment?"
"Acknowledge her! Not for the millionth of a second."
"Oh, I mean only before witnesses who understood the scheme."
"You don't know the lady, Courtney," I answered. "She would call the bluff instantly—and do it so well the witnesses, themselves, would be deceived and turned against me."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Lotzen seems to be uncommonly lucky in his leading woman," he observed.
"The Devil usually helps his own," said I.
Then, I hastened to the Palace.
Dehra was alone in her library, and she came forward with both hands extended.
"It has been a long day, Armand," she said.
I took her hands and kissed first one and then the other.
"Yes, dear one, it has been a long day," I said.
I led her to a chair and stood before her. She held up her hands and regarded them critically. Then she looked up at me with quizzical eyes.
"You like my hands?" she asked.
"Yes, dear."
"Better than my lips?"
"No, dear."
"Well, one might think so. But, if you don't, then sir, I'm waiting." Her peremptoriness was very sweet.
I had gone there determined to take no lover's privileges until the cloud I was under had been removed. But, what would you! I was not stone, nor ice—and, no more was the Princess.
"You are a very imperious little sweetheart," I said, and kissed her; and whether once or twice or oftener does not matter.
She drew me down on the arm of the chair.
"I know what was in your mind, dear," she said; "and it's very good of you; yet, we settled all that last night. I don't care a rap for that woman."
I let my fingers stray softly through her hair.
"Not even if she have legal proof I am her husband?" I asked.
"You mean that certificate," she cut in. "Have you seen it?"
"Courtney has; and it's very regular and very formidable."
She tossed her head sharply.
"It certifies a lie. I wouldn't believe a hundred of them."
"You're a wonder, Dehra; a perfect wonder," I said. "Why should you trust me so?"
She looked up with one of those subduing smiles.
"I don't know, dear," she said. "I have not bothered to analyze it. It's enough for me that I do."
"And enough for me, too, sweetheart," I said and bent and caressed her cheek.
When I raised my head, the King was standing in the doorway. I sprang up and saluted.
"I assume you were not expecting me," he remarked, looking straight at me.
"Your Majesty's logic is faultless," I replied—and I saw the Princess smile.
He came nearer and let his eyes search my face a moment.
"Can you say as much for your conduct just now, my Lord Duke?" he demanded.
I gave him look for look.
"If judged upon the true facts I can," I answered.
He studied me a moment longer; then, motioned to a chair. As I made to take it, Dehra caught my hand.
"Sit here, Armand," she commanded, touching the arm of her own chair.
I hesitated; and the King regarded her in stern surprise. Then I smiled a negation and went on to the place Frederick had indicated. Straightway, Dehra got up and, coming behind me and leaning on the chair back, she put her arms about my neck.
I reached up and took her hand—then, arose and stood beside her.
"You see, Your Majesty," said she, with calm finality, "I know the true facts."
For a space, Frederick's face remained absolutely expressionless; then, it slowly softened.
"It seems to me there are a few facts which I, too, might, possibly, be permitted to know," he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"It was to tell Your Majesty those very facts that I sought an audience, this evening," I said.
Just then a clock began to chime slowly the hour. The king waited until the last stroke—the seventh—had sounded, then, he nodded.
"I am listening, Marshal," he said briskly.
It might be that, after one has asked twelve or thirteen fathers for a daughter, in marriage, he has got sufficiently hardened to confront the fourteenth with, at least, a show of indifference; but, as this was my first father, I admit I was a trifle uneasy along the spine; and, somehow, my voice seemed to get lost in my throat, and the words were very reluctant in coming. I suppose Frederick saw my embarrassment for he smiled broadly.
"Come, Armand," he said; "pull up that chair. I suppose we may not smoke here," he added; "though I think I detect the faint suggestion of a miserable cigarette," and he looked at the Princess.
Dehra took a tiny jeweled case from somewhere about her gown and offered it to the King.
"Will Your Majesty try a Nestor?" she said.
Frederick shook his head in repugnance.
"His Majesty, most certainly, will not," he said.
"But His Majesty's daughter will—with his permission."
Frederick laughed. "Or, without it, if need be," he said. "She is a very headstrong young woman, Armand," he observed to me.
"So His Highness has already done himself the honor to tell me," said she airily.
"Good!" said the King. "I admire his pluck."
Dehra blew a cloud of smoke at me.
"So do I," she answered.
Then she went over and kissed the King.
"Be nice to Armand," she whispered (but loud enough, for me to hear) and left the room, flinging me a farewell from her finger tips, as I held back the portière.
And Frederick continued to smile, and my courage grew proportionately. I came straight to the point.
"May it please you, Sire," I said, "I have the honor to pray the hand of the Princess Royal in marriage."
The King's smile faded; and his eyes travelled slowly from my head to my feet and back again to my head, for all the world as though I were on inspection-parade.
I knew what was in his mind and my courage evaporated instantly. I began to feel like a soldier caught with uniform awry and equipment tarnished.
"Do you give me your word, sir, that you are free to marry her?" he demanded, suddenly.
"On my honor, as an officer and a Dalberg," I answered.
Instantly his manner changed.
"That's quite enough, lad," he said. "If the Princess wants you—and it would seem she does—I shall not say her nay. Maybe, I am rather glad to say yes."
I tried to thank him, but he would not let me.
"It's a matter for the two most concerned to arrange," he declared "I never did fancy these loveless royal marriages. They are very little better than false ones." Then he laughed. "Tell me about this one of yours," he said, "the 'true facts' as you called them."
So, I told him, in detail, of the supper in the Garden, the astonishing accusation of the Spencer woman, and of what I knew concerning her in America. It was a long story, but Frederick's interest never dulled. At the end, I handed him the copy of the marriage certificate and the cablegram to Courtney. He read them very carefully; then smoked awhile, in silence.
"I suppose you have your own notion as to this woman's motive?" he said.
"Yes," I answered.
"Do you care to give it to me?"
I let him see my hesitation.
"Well, I think it is not entirely revenge," I said.
"It might even be that she is only playing the cards someone else has dealt her," he said significantly.
I smiled and made no answer.
"They are mighty strong cards, Armand," he said.
"And a mighty strong player holds them," I added. "More's the pity."
He nodded. "I saw the lady this afternoon in the Park. I rather fancy almost any man would be quite willing to have her claim him as her husband."
"And, therefore, her story will be very generally accepted," I said.
"Doubtless—it's far easier to accept it than to disbelieve it."
"Consequently, if it please you, Sire, let my betrothal to Her Royal Highness remain secret until this woman's claim has been thoroughly disproved."
Frederick thought a moment. "You are entirely right," he said; "and, particularly, since, under old Henry's Decree, she would be your legal wife—assuming, that is, that you had married her." Then he smiled. "You see, sir, the very thing you were so insistent upon, now works to your disadvantage. If it were not for that Decree you could laugh at this woman. I could simply pronounce her morganatic, and you would be quite free to marry Dehra, at once."
But I shook my head. "I must bring Dehra a clean record," I said; "and I have no fault to find with that Decree. But for it, I would not be here—though, neither would Madame Spencer," I added inadvertently.
The King stared at me.
"You don't think she knows the Decree," he exclaimed.
"I think she never heard of the Laws of the Dalbergs," I answered. "I mean that it was my being here that brought her."
Again the King smiled.
"What you mean is that she would not be here but for the fact that by Henry's Decree she would be your lawful wife and I powerless to interfere."
I made no answer. I was rather anxious for him to pursue the premise to its conclusion.
"You see where that deduction leads," he went on: "only Dehra and Lotzen know the Laws of our House."
"I ask Your Majesty to observe that I have made no deduction," I said.
He stopped short and looked at me, a moment.
"Quite right," he said; "and it's proper you should not to me. But, I suppose you will concede it was not the Princess."
"Certainly," I agreed.
"Ergo—it must have been——"
"I stop at the Princess," said I.
He sat silent, frowning very slightly.
"If I were quite sure that Lotzen were the instigator of this plot, I would remove him utterly from the line of succession and banish him from the Kingdom."
I thought it a proper time for me to be very quiet.
"In the meantime, however, I shall send that infernal woman packing over the border by the quickest route," he said vehemently.
"I trust not, Sire," I said. "As Governor of Dornlitz, I gave orders, this morning, that she be not permitted to leave the Capital."
"But, she's an American subject!" he exclaimed. "She can't be held prisoner."
"If she's my wife, she's a subject of Your Majesty."
"True! But why do you want to keep her here?"
"To give time to investigate her doings since I became an Archduke," I said. "I may not marry Dehra in the face of that certificate and old Henry's Decree; and, since the Alderman is dead, only through Madeline Spencer herself can the falsity of her claim be shown. Every moment here she must act her part and be under our constant surveillance. Sometime, she is sure to make a slip or forget her lines. But, let her be at large and, with plenty of funds at her command, she will be a will-o-the-wisp, to be followed over the world for years—and her slips will be few and very far between, and with no one there to note them."
"Very good," said Frederick; "keep her or send her, as you see fit—only, don't embroil me with America, if you can avoid it."
"There is no danger," I assured him. "Courtney says he will not interfere, so long as she claims to be my wife."
Frederick laughed. "Courtney's a friend," he said heartily.
"None better lives," I replied.
He lit a fresh cigar and studied the coal, a bit.
"I wish you would tell me," he said, "whether you have any evidence connecting Lotzen with this matter."
"Not a scrap nor a syllable," I answered promptly.
"Has he ever exhibited any ill will toward you?"
"None, whatever. On the contrary, he has been uniformly courteous and considerate—and I have told you of his action, last night, at the supper."
"All of which is just what he would do if he were guilty," was the answer. "No, no, Armand; your refusal to implicate Lotzen does you credit, but this attack on you comes at such an opportune moment, for him, that he may not escape the suspicion which it breeds. I don't want to believe him guilty, yet———" and he raised his hands expressively.
Then the portières parted and the Princess stood in the doorway. Frederick saw her.
"Come in, Your Highness," he said.
She crossed to him and patted his cheek.
"Have you been nice to Armand?" she asked.
"He seemed to think so. I told him he might have you."
"You dear old father!" she exclaimed; and slipping to his knee, she gave him a long hug.
"Hold on, daughter; there are two conditions," he said. "One is that you order Armand about, now, instead of your Father."
"Oh, don't worry about me, Sire," said she, "I'm quite able to order you both."
"There's not a grain of doubt of that. But, you would better hold off on Armand until you have him safely tied up; he may rue bargain."
"I fancy I can wait that very short time," she laughed, looking at me.
"But, maybe, it won't be a very short time," the King remarked.
She tossed her head.
"It's the woman's privilege to fix the day."
"Which brings me to the second condition," said he; "that, until the present wife, which some one seems to have provided for Armand, has been eliminated, not only may there be no marriage, but the betrothal, itself, must remain a secret with us three."
"But she's not his wife!" Dehra exclaimed.
"No," said the King, "she is not his wife. If I thought she were, there would be no betrothal."
Dehra's small foot began to tap the floor.
"I have told Armand I don't care a rap for that woman," she answered. "And if, as Your Majesty admits, she is not his wife, why should she be permitted to control the situation to her own liking?"
The King looked at me with an amused smile.
"There, sir," said he, "you see what an unreasonable little woman you're seeking to marry."
I leaned forward and took Dehra's hand.
"I think I rather like this particular sort of unreasonableness," I said. Then, to her, I added: "But I must endorse His Majesty's second condition."
She frowned; then seated herself on one end of the high writing table.
"I am prepared to hear your arguments, messieurs," she said. "Pray proceed and be brief."
The King nodded to me.
"You have the opening," he said.
So, I explained the whole matter, as best I could, and the reasons which moved the King and me in our decision as to the betrothal remaining secret and the marriage deferred.
Dehra heard me through without comment; then she turned to the King.
"May it please your Honoress," said Frederick, "I cannot do more than endorse and support all that my colleague has so ably presented. We appeal to the Court's well-known sense of propriety, and throw ourselves upon her mercy."
"We have been much impressed by the argument of the learned counsel," said Dehra, in formal tones, "and, while not agreeing with all that it contained, yet, we are disposed to regard it, in the main, as sound. The second condition is therefore sustained.—But, I wish I could tell that woman what I think of her!" she exclaimed.
"God forbid!" the King ejaculated.
Dehra went over and kissed him.
"You're a dear," she said.
Then, she came across to me.
"And what is he?" asked Frederick, with a laugh.
She drew back quickly.
"According to his argument, he is only my cousin, the Grand Duke Armand," she answered.
"But, you said you did not agree with part of my argument," I objected.
"Did I?—Well, then, that must have been the part," she said.
The King arose.
"I think it's time for me to go," he said.
The following morning, I cabled a detective agency, in New York, giving them all the material facts in the case and requesting them to make an exhaustive investigation of the movements of Madeline Spencer during the period intervening between my confirmation as an Archduke and her sailing for Europe. I told them I required evidence, promptly, to disprove the marriage, and gave themcarte blanchein its gathering. At the same time, I wired a prominent Army officer, at Governor's Island, to vouch for my order. I wanted no time lost while the Agency was investigating me.
Of course, the natural method would have been to direct the Valerian Ambassador, at Washington, to procure the information; but, I felt quite sure, that would simply be playing into Lotzen's hand. Some one in the Embassy would be very willing to oblige the Heir Presumptive by betraying me. And it was only reasonable to suppose the Duke had already arranged for it. It was one of those "trifles" which, as Courtney had said, would not be overlooked.
About noon, Bernheim came in with a card in his fingers and a queer smile about his firm-set lips.
I took the card.
"The devil!" I exclaimed. Then I looked at Bernheim. "What's the move, now?"
"That is what I tried to find out, sir," he answered.
"And failed?'
"Completely. And, yet, I didn't dare to dismiss her without your direct order."
"As she well knew."
"And as she had the effrontery to tell me," he added.
I laughed. "And did it very prettily, too, I'll wager."
"Quite too prettily. 'Come, Colonel Bernheim,' she said, looking me straight in the eyes, and smiling sweetly enough to turn most any man's head, 'you want to refuse to let me see the Marshal, but, you know perfectly well, you dare not. He might be glad for a word with me in private; and then, again, he might not—but you don't know and you are afraid to risk it.Voilà!' And then she laughed."
"Well," said I, "I can't imagine what she wants, but you may admit her—Stay a moment—could you manage to overhear the conversation?"
"Only by leaving the door ajar."
"Well, do what you can," I said.
I was curious by what name he would announce the lady; but he used none. He simply swung back the door and spoke into the outer room:
"Madame, His Royal Highness will receive you."
"You are most kind, Colonel Bernheim," she said, in her sweetest tones, as she passed him; "I owe you many thanks."
"You owe me none, madame," was the rather gruff answer.
Then he went out, and closed the door with altogether unnecessary vigor.
She turned and looked after him.
"What a great bear he is, Armand," she said, with a confidential air.
I stiffened. "You wished to see me, Mrs. Spencer," I said.
She laughed. "Still denying me, are you?" she rippled—"And even in your own private office!"
I looked at her, in silence.
"Please don't trouble to offer me a chair, dear," she went on; "this one looks comfortable,"—then calmly seated herself, and began to draw off her gloves.
The cool assurance of the woman was so absurd I had to smile.
"I fancy it would be quite superfluous to offer you anything that chanced to be within your reach," I said.
"Certainly, dear, when, at the same time, it chances to be my husband's," she answered, and fell to smoothing out her gloves.
"Come, come!" I exclaimed. "What's the sense in keeping up the farce?"
"What farce, Armand, dear?"
"That I am your husband," I answered curtly. Her 'dears' and her 'Armands' were getting on my nerves.
Her face took on an injured look.
"Judging from your action, the other night and now, it would be well for me if it were a farce," she said sadly.
I walked over to the table, on the far side of which she sat.
"Is it possible, madame, that, here, alone with me, you still have the effrontery to maintain you are my wife?"
She put her elbows on the table and, resting her chin in her hands, looked me straight in the eyes.
"And do you, sir, here, alone with me, still have the effrontery to maintain that I am not your wife?" she asked.
"It's not necessary," said I, "for you know it quite as well as I do."
She shrugged her shoulders. "You're a good bit of a brute, Armand."
"And you're a——" I began quickly—then stopped.
"Yes?" she inflected. "I am a——?"
"I leave the blank to your own filling," I said, with a bow.
She laughed gayly. "Do you know you have played this scene very nicely, my dear," she said. "If Colonel Bernheim has chanced to stay close enough to the door, he so neatly slammed ajar, he has heard all that we have said. Though, whether it was by your order or due to his own curiosity, I, of course, do not know. Either way, however, you scored with him."
I was so sure that Bernheim would now be far enough away from the door that I reached across and flung it back.
The ante-room was empty, and, through its open doorway, we could see Bernheim and Moore coming slowly down the corridor and twenty feet away.
But she only laughed again.
"Which simply proves Colonel Bernheim's wonderful agility," she said. "He must be a most valuable Aide."
I closed the door.
"We are drifting from the point," I said. "You did me the honor to request an interview."
"Not exactly, my dear Armand. I sought admittance to my husband."
"By 'husband' you mean——?" I asked.
She smiled tolerantly. "By all means, keep up the play," she said; "but we shall save time and energy by assuming that, whenever I speak of my husband, I mean you."
"I take it, we may also assume that you did not seek such admission to me for the sole pleasure of looking at me?" I said.
"Quite right, Armand; though there was a time—and not so long ago—-when we both were more than glad to look at each other.—And, maybe, I have not changed." And she leaned forward and smiled with the frankness of a sweet-faced child.
I made a gesture of repugnance.
"For Heaven's sake, madame, lay aside this simulated sentiment and be good enough to come to the point."
"The point?—the point?" she replied absently. "True, I was forgetting—the sight of you, dear, always stirs me so. I came here very angry with you, and, now, I have almost forgiven you."
I put my finger on the electric button, and Colonel Moore responded.
"Mrs. Spencer desires her carriage," I said.
She gave him one of her sweetest smiles.
"It's too bad, Colonel Moore, that I am always imposed upon you when your chief sends me from his august presence;" and she held out her hand to him.
Moore's bow over it was positively blarneying in its deference.
"It is a great pleasure, I assure you," he said.
She shook her head at him.
"Ratherdouble entendre, Colonel."
"Madame knows it was not so meant," was the quick reply.
She gave him a glance of amused indifference; then arose.
"And Your Royal Highness does not wish to hear my particular errand?" she said.
"No more than before you—entered," I replied.
"Intruded, you mean."
"Possibly, that would be more accurate," I admitted.
She gave a sarcastic laugh.
"Your royalty seems to have been fatal to your courtesy."
"At least, there is one particular instance in which it seems to have increased my forbearance."
She gathered up her skirts, as though to go—then turned.
"And that instance is myself?" she asked.
"Your intuition is marvellous," I replied.
She sat down on the chair arm.
"But, why do you forbear, my dear?" she said. "If I am not your wife, why don't you do something to prove it?"
"What, for example?" I inquired.
She shrugged her shoulders. "How ingenious you are, Armand! You would even have me believe that, having decided to deny me, you did not, also, arrange how to proceed when I appeared."
"My dear Mrs. Spencer, I said, the other night, that you were a great actress; permit me to repeat it."
"It is very easy to act the truth, Armand," she answered.
"And your appearance in Dornlitz is, I suppose, in the interest of truth?" I mocked.
She looked at me very steadily, a moment.
"At any rate, you must admit it was well for truth and decency that I did appear."
"We but waste each other's time, Mrs. Spencer," I answered curtly, and nodded to Moore.
But she gave no heed to the Aide's proffered arm. She did not even glance at him, but leaned back on the chair, swinging her foot and looking as insolently tantalizing as possible. It was a very pretty pose.
"I may be very stupid, Armand," she said, "but, I cannot understand why, if my presence in Dornlitz is so annoying to you, you prevent me leaving it."
I smiled. "At last," said I, "we are coming to the point."
"As though you hadn't guessed it from the first," she laughed.
"Unfortunately, I have not Mrs. Spencer's keenness of intuition," I returned.
She glanced over at my desk.
"The Governor of Dornlitz needs none. Official reports are better than intuition."
"But not so rapid," I replied.
She smiled. "I was looking at the telephone," she said dryly.
"An admirable medium for unpleasant conversations," I observed.
"Particularly, between husband and wife, you mean."
I answered with a shrug.
"And, also, between the city gates and headquarters," she continued.
"You are pleased to speak in riddles," I said.
She let herself sink, with sinuous grace, into the chair.
I sighed, with suggestive audibility, and waited.
It was a good deal of a cat and dog business—and the cat was having all the fun—and knew it.
I could not well have her dragged from the room; and the other alternative—to leave, myself—was not to my taste. It looked too much like flight.
"I wish you would explain why I am not permitted to leave Dornlitz," she said.
"Have you been restrained from leaving?" I asked.
"Still pretending ignorance, my dear," she laughed. "Well, then, I was refused exit at the North gate this morning; and that, though I was only going for a short drive in the country."
"Why didn't you try another gate?" I asked.
"I did—three others."
"With similar results?"
"Absolutely."
"Therefore, you inferred?" I asked.
"Nothing, my dear Armand, nothing. I know. At one of the gates, the officer condescended to tell me that he was acting under the express order of Field Marshal, His Royal Highness the Governor of Dornlitz."
"And he told you the truth," I said.
"Of course he did," she laughed. "I never doubted it. What I want to know is your reason for the order."
"And that is what brought you here?" I asked.
"That—and the pleasure of seeing my dear husband," she drawled.
"I'll make a bargain with you, Mrs. Spencer," I said: "My motive for the order, in exchange, in strict confidence, for your motive for coming to Dornlitz."
Of course, I had no notion she would disclose the actual motive in the plot. What I was after was the story they had prepared to explain why I came to Valeria alone and left her to follow and, in the interim, posed as a bachelor.
"Surely, Armand, you're not serious!" she exclaimed.
"I never was more so," I said.
"But why should you want me to tell you something you already know?" she asked—with a quick glance at Moore.
"Come, come!" said I; "Colonel Moore is totally deaf, at times. I promise your secret shall remain within this room."
"Mysecret!" she laughed. "Really, Armand, you are delicious."
"I don't quite understand," I said.
She laughed again. "It seems to me that why I followed you to Valeria, instead of coming with you, is, particularly, your secret. You wouldn't care for His Majesty to know it, would you?"
"If it's my secret," said I, "don't you think I ought to be let into it?"
She thought a moment—evidently considering how much she should reveal to me. Of course, she understood what I wanted and why; but this order of mine, restricting her within the Capital, had evidently been totally unexpected, and she was set upon having some explanation of it. Hence, she was ready to bargain.
"Come!" said I. "In this game you're playing, you will have to disclose it very soon, anyway."
"But, it seems so silly, Armand, to tell you what you yourself arranged."
"Oh! So I arranged for your coming!" I exclaimed. "I suppose I also arranged for what you have done since you've been here."
She smiled sweetly. "Not quite all, my dear. I've been arranging a few things myself, thanks to your perfidy."
"We are getting away from the main point," I said. "You were about to tell me why you came to Dornlitz."
She arose languidly, and began to draw on her gloves.
"Oh, was I? Well, then, I've changed my mind."
"I bid you good-day, Mrs. Spencer," I said, and turned away.
She gave a light laugh. "Aren't you glad to be rid of me, dear?"
I faced about.
"Very," I said bluntly.
She put out a hand, as though to ward off a blow, and her face flushed, an instant.
"Armand, my dear———" she began.
I turned my back and walked toward the window.
Then, there came the rustle of silk behind me—a soft arm was flung about my neck, and a tear-choked voice exclaimed:
"Haven't you one kind word for me, dear?"
I reached up and put her arm sharply aside.
"It seems to me, madame, there has been enough of this nonsense," I said. "There is no gallery here to play to, as you had in the Hanging Garden."
She studied my face a moment—drawing her tiny lace handkerchief nervously from hand to hand.
"I must ask you to leave my office immediately," I went on. "If you decline, I shall leave and not return until you have gone."
She slowly drew herself up, and stepped back.
"And this is your last word to your wife?" she asked.
"It is my last word to you, Mrs. Spencer," I said curtly. "Are you going—or shall I?"
She swept me a bit of a courtesy, smiling the while.
"I am going, my dear Armand, I am going—but it is onlyau revoir."
I bowed stiffly, and motioned to Moore to escort her.
He swung open the door—then stopped short. Just entering the ante-room, from the corridor, were the King, the Princess Royal, and the American Ambassador.
Instantly, Mrs. Spencer drew back, and gave me a mocking smile.
"I've changed my mind again, dear," she said. "I'll make that trade of motives, now."