I hastened to the door, saluted the King, and greeted the Princess and Courtney.
"I am honored over much," I said—then watched their actions, as they saw Mrs. Spencer.
Frederick stopped short, frowned, then turned to me interrogatingly. Courtney raised his eyebrows, bowed to Mrs. Spencer, and, then, gave me a quizzical smile. Dehra flouted her enemy with one of those deliberately ignoring stares; then, she smiled at me, and went over and sat down at my desk.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Spencer stood near the table; one hand resting on it, the other holding up her gown. The attitude was most becoming and effective—and she knew it. So far as her bearing showed, the situation was the most natural imaginable. And, chancing to catch my eye, she actually gave me her most fetching smile.
She got a stare in answer, and I turned to the King.
"I have told Your Majesty of a Mrs. Spencer, who claims to be my wife," I said. "She has sought an audience with the Governor of Dornlitz, and demanded to know why orders have been issued that she be refused exit from the city. I offered to explain, if she, on her part, would disclose her reasons for coming to Valeria. She refused, and was about to depart, when, seeing Your Majesty, she suddenly changed her mind and agreed to bargain. Have we your permission to proceed?"
The King understood the situation, instantly—and I could detect a bit of a smile under his grey moustache.
"Be seated, madame," he said. "I am interested—unless, of course, you do not care for us to hear it."
She dropped him a wonderful courtesy—acquired, doubtless, in her French Convent school.
"Your Majesty is more than welcome to every word of my story," she answered, with ready frankness. "The Grand Duke Armand knows it quite as well as I; though he affects otherwise, because it pleases him to pretend that I am not his wife."
"My dear madame," the King said, "you are not to tell me anything. You are simply graciously permitting me to be present when you carry out the bargain you have just made with the Governor of Dornlitz."
She smiled very sweetly at the King; then, turned to me.
"Will you begin, Armand," she said.
I bowed. "After you, madame," said I. "And, perchance, when I have heard your story, I may revoke the order."
She smiled disdainfully—then, addressed the King:
"I consented to this exchange only because Your Majesty would, thus, hear at least some truth as to this marriage. I confess, however, I am surprised that Major Dalberg permits it to be disclosed."
She turned to me with affected hesitation.
"Are you quite sure, Armand, you really want me to tell it?" she asked.
I laughed. "You play it very cleverly, Mrs. Spencer," I said.
She shrugged her shoulders most expressively.
"On your head be it, then," she answered. Then, addressing the King, she went on. "When it was determined that Major Dalberg was to be the American Military Attaché with the Valerian Army, he told me, for the first time, of his kinship to Your Majesty. On my insistent urging, he then decided to make a bid for your favor, to the end that you might acknowledge his birth and restore to him the lost estates and titles of his ancestor, Prince Hugo. Apprehending, however, that Your Majesty would look with more kindness upon him as a bachelor than as a married man, it was arranged that I should remain in America. Then, as soon as the scheme had either succeeded or definitely failed, I was to be sent for." She turned and looked at me. "It is rather needless to say—in view of Monsieur Armand's present attitude toward me—that he never sent for me. But I saw the accounts, in the daily Press, of the wonderful story of an American Army Officer, Armand Dalberg, being, in truth, a Prince of Valeria; and how he had been so accepted and proclaimed by the King. I waited two weeks and more—for word from my husband—then I came hither—and met the kind reception he gave me in the Hanging Garden."
She paused an instant; then spoke to me:
"Is there anything material that I have omitted?" she asked.
"Naturally, I do not know, Mrs. Spencer," I answered; "but, judging from your marvellous power of—invention, I should fancy not."
She turned aside the thrust with a smile.
"The bargain is, now, with you, monsieur," she said. "I await the explanation of your order."
"It is very simple, Mrs. Spencer," I said curtly; "so simple, indeed, I am quite sure you guessed it, long ago."
Her smile still lingered.
"The bargain, sir, the bargain!"
"I issued the order, madame, because you have falsely proclaimed yourself my wife, and I intend to confine your acting as such within the limits of this town. So long as you pose as my wife you will never pass the gates of Dornlitz."
"In other words, I am to be prisoner for life," she said.
"That is for you to determine," I answered.
She studied my face, a bit.
"I suppose you want me to consent to a divorce," she said.
"Divorce implies marriage," I answered.
She shook her head and smiled tolerantly.
"I really can't promise to die just to accommodate Your Highness," she said.
I made no reply.
"And that suggests the inquiry, Your Majesty," she said; "as the wife of the Prince Armand am I not a Grand Duchess of Valeria and a Royal Highness?"
Surely, the woman's impudence was almost beyond belief!
But the King was very courteous.
"The Decree of Restoration applies only to the Grand Duke Armand," he said.
"And I remain, simply, Mrs. Armand Dalberg?" she asked.
Frederick smiled.
"You remain exactly what you were before the Decree was signed," he said.
She turned to me.
"Since I am to live in Dornlitz the rest of my days, where is it your gracious purpose that I reside—in the Epsau Palace or where?"
"Except to assure you it will not be in the Epsau, it is no concern of mine where you live," I answered.
"Then, it will be the Hotel Metzen—and, of course, the bill will be sent to you."
"Oh, no, it won't," I answered.
"Surely!" she exclaimed, "you can't intend to hold me prisoner, and, then, oblige me to provide my own subsistence."
"Your subsistence, Mrs. Spencer, is not my affair," I said, "since the length of your enforced detention in Dornlitz is optional with yourself."
"You mean?"
"I mean, that when you admit I am not and never was your husband, and that the marriage certificate is false, that instant you are free to depart."
She shook her head.
"I am willing to permit you to obtain a divorce," she said, "but I may not deny the truth of the certificate."
"Very good," said I. "I trust you will enjoy your stay in Dornlitz."
She swung around toward Courtney.
"You are the American Ambassador, are you not, monsieur?" she said.
Courtney answered by a bow.
"Then, I ask if you will suffer an American citizen to be kept prisoner by the Valerian authorities without trial or legal judgment?"
"Not for a moment, madame," said Courtney, instantly, and with a quick smile at the King.
"You would protest?"
"Most strenuously—and so would Washington."
She looked at me with a triumphant sneer.
"You hear, Your Highness!" she exclaimed.
"Yes," said I, "I hear."
"I presume I am now at liberty to depart."
"From the room?—undoubtedly," I answered.
"Thank you—I mean from Dornlitz."
"Whenever you will," said I; "on the terms I gave you."
She turned, again, to Courtney.
"I appeal to Your Excellency for protection."
"Upon what basis, madame?" he asked formally.
She looked surprised.
"As an American subject," she said.
"And under what name?" Courtney asked.
"My rightful one, of course," she laughed: "Madeline Dalberg."
"Wife of the Grand Duke Armand?" he went on.
"Surely, monsieur—who else?"
"That, madame, if you will pardon, is the material point. As wife of a Valerian Prince you are a subject of His Majesty, Frederick the Third, and the American Government has no jurisdiction to interfere."
"But, His Majesty has just said I was not comprehended in the Decree restoring my husband," she objected.
"Of course, I can speak only according to the doctrine of the United States," said Courtney. "It asks only if you are the wife of a foreigner. If you are, then, his citizenship determines yours."
She gave Courtney a sarcastic smile, and addressed the King.
"Will Your Majesty tell me wherein the Valerian doctrine differs from the American?" she asked.
"It is precisely similar," said Frederick.
She leaned forward. "Then, though not an Archduchess, I am, nevertheless, a subject of Your Majesty," she said.
The King frowned. "My dear madame," he said, "questions of citizenship are not presented to me, originally. They are passed upon by the proper Department of my Government and reach me, only, in case of peculiarly extraordinary circumstances."
She arose, and went close over to the King.
"Your Majesty has heard me appeal for protection to the Ambassador of my native land and be refused, because I was no longer an American citizen," she began. "And you, yourself, have practically admitted he was correct, and that I am a Valerian subject. Therefore, I demand that freedom of action which is granted to all your citizens, and that the order of the Governor of Dornlitz be revoked."
Frederick looked at her sternly for a moment.
"Pray be seated, madame," he said; "and permit me to observe that, if you are my subject, your manner of address is scarcely respectful to your King."
"I do not desire to be disrespectful," she replied; "but, if I am your subject, I have the undoubted right to the protection of your laws. I ask Your Majesty if I am receiving that protection? I ask Your Majesty if those laws permit one, unaccused of any crime or wrong-doing, to be held prisoner within the limits of a town? I ask Your Majesty if those laws sanction such an order as your Governor, yonder, has made respecting me?"
There was just the proper touch of dignified indignation and feminine pathos. Indeed, I never saw this rather remarkable woman act her part better than in that short speech.
The King looked at her, for a bit, in silence—though, whether he was admiring her as a beautiful woman or as an artistic impersonator, I could not make out. Doubtless, it was something of both.
"As simple abstract propositions, my dear madame," he said, presently, "your questions, as put, are entitled to negative replies. But, when they are applied to the actual facts in the case, as just given by you, there is a vast difference. If you are the lawfully wedded wife of the Grand Duke Armand, there is nothing illegal in the order you complain of. In Valeria, the husband has lawful authority, upon proper cause, to restrain his wife within even smaller limits than are prescribed for you."
"But, where, in my case, is there any proper cause?" she demanded. "Besides, he avers I am not his wife—therefore, he can have no authority over me."
The King smiled. "My dear madame, you forget that it is you who insist upon submitting yourself to his authority."
"That may be, Sire; yet, I appeal to your sense of fairness. Should he be permitted to exercise a husband's authority to imprison me, and, at the same time, deny that he is my husband?"
Of course, theoretically, she was in the right. My action was, in that particular, utterly inconsistent with my position and protestations. For a moment, I was a trifle uneasy as to the King's answer.
But he brushed it lightly aside.
"The circumstances of the case are so extraordinary, madame, that I fear it cannot well be judged by the usual standard."
She smiled very sweetly. "Which means that I am to be held to the strict obligations of my position, but that the Grand Duke Armand can perpetrate any inconsistency he choose."
The King smiled back at her. "I do not doubt that His Royal Highness will be most happy to be relieved of the necessity for being inconsistent," he said.
"Good!" she exclaimed. "I am ready to leave Dornlitz and Valeria this very day."
The King turned to me, interrogatingly.
"Then, you admit you are not Madeline Dalberg?" I asked.
"On the contrary, I re-affirm it; but, I offer you a divorce."
I shrugged my shoulders and made no reply.
"You see, Sire," she said, "how reasonable he is. He condescends to be consistent only if, by forcing me to perjure myself, he can further his—schemes"—and she deliberately turned and looked at the Princess.
I stepped quickly between them.
She laughed scornfully.
"How like you, Armand," she said. "It's only a short while since you were just as thoughtful for me."
I was too angry to reply, but she could read my thoughts in my eyes. And she answered them with a taunting smile and a toss of her head.
So there was silence, for a space; then, she spoke to Courtney:
"I understand. Your Excellency refuses me your protection because I am a Valerian subject?"
Courtney bowed.
"Made so by your own statements," he answered.
"And Your Majesty refuses to interfere between the Governor of Dornlitz and me, because, as his wife, I am subject to his authority?"
"In effect, yes," said Frederick.
"And you, my Lord Armand, declare that I am not your wife and, therefore, that I am an American subject?"
"I think, Mrs. Spencer, we have gone over that matterad nauseam," I said.
"I grant you the nauseousness," she retorted.
"A bare-faced lie may not be over chary as to the defence it provokes," I answered.
She gathered up her skirts, and turned toward the door.
"What a pretty sight you three are," she sneered. "A King, an Ambassador and a Royal Archduke playing with one poor woman like cats with a mouse. Truly, sirs, you should have lived three hundred years ago. You would have shown rare skill in the torture chambers of the Holy Inquisition."
"'Pon my soul, madame!" Frederick exclaimed, "I'm glad to hear a frank opinion of myself. It's a privilege that rarely comes to a King."
"More's the pity for the King," she replied. "And more's the shame for his selfish advisers," and she looked at Courtney, and, then, at me.
"Have I Your Majesty's permission to depart—to my hotel?" she ended.
The King nodded, without replying.
She swept him another of those wonderful curtsies; then turned to Moore, who swung back the door for her.
At the threshold she looked back and smiled at me.
"Au revoir, Armand, dear,au revoir," she said almost caressingly; "you will come back to me soon, I know."
Before I could frame an answer she was gone.
For the next few weeks, matters went along without any particular incident. The snarl, in which I was entangled, showed no signs of unravelling, and my marriage to the Princess and the Royal succession seemed farther away than ever.
The investigations, in the United States, had yielded nothing of any utility. Indeed, they had been practically barren, for they had told me little more than Courtney's cablegram.
Edwards, the witness named in the certificate, had not been located, though New York had been scraped as with a fine-tooth comb; so, it was safe to assume his existence was only on paper and in Alderman McGuire's brain.
The movements of Madeline Spencer had been very difficult to trace, as was entirely natural—for what hotel servant would remember, weeks after, the doings of a woman guest, whose life had been at all regular. All that could be ascertained, definitely, was that she had sailed from New York ten days prior to her arrival at Dornlitz; and that she had registered as Mrs. Armand Dalberg at the Waldorf a week before sailing; her luggage having been checked there from Philadelphia. The floor-clerk and some of the pages recalled her very readily, and were rather positive that they had not seen any foreigner with her, who resembled a Valerian.
That was about the extent of the detectives' discoveries; for Philadelphia yielded absolutely nothing, beyond the fact that she had been at one of the Broad Street hotels, for a fortnight, prior to coming to New York; and, before that, in Pittsburgh, Washington, and New York; the last corresponding, in date, to my interview with her, there, in December. At none of these places, could any traces be discovered of an emissary of Lotzen.
Nor did the investigations at this end, conducted for me by Courtney's secret agents, yield anything more satisfactory. During the period, in question, the Duke had not been away from the Capital for over three days at any one time, and none of his suite had been absent longer than a week. Nevertheless, I was none the less positive that there had been some sort of communication between Madeline Spencer, in America, and the Duke of Lotzen, in Valeria, in response to which she was here.
So, it seemed Courtney was correct, as usual. He had predicted that nothing would be found by the detectives; because, as he said, it was just a case in which all tracks would be most effectively covered by doing everything in the most ordinary way—and, apparently, that was just what had been done.
There seemed to be nothing but to cultivate patience and settle down to wait for someone to blunder, or for the lady to get tired of her enforced residence in Dornlitz, and begin to get restless, and do something which would give us a clue to work on.
She had retained her apartments at the Hotel Metzen—the management having, however, addressed me as to my pleasure, in the matter—and, at least, once every day, she had sought to pass some one of the City gates; and, when refused, would then demand exit as the wife of the Grand Duke Armand.
She drove and rode and walked about the town the cynosure of all eyes—and some of them of admiring men, who would have been very ready, doubtless, to start a flirtation; both for their own pleasure and in the hope of gaining my good will by discrediting her.
But, she would have none of them, and went her way with the serene blindness of an honest woman.
In the hotel, she bore herself with the quiet dignity and reserve suitable to her assumed position. With the guests, particularly Americans, she was frankly gracious and friendly; but, it was evident, she sought no sympathy and wanted no confidants.
All these details came to me in the reports of the Secret Police. I saw her very frequently on the street; passing her both on the sidewalk and on horseback. And if she were pining for the newly wedded husband, who had forsaken and denied her, she most assuredly did not show it. Nor did her impudence diminish. Whenever she saw me she tried to catch my eye. Several times it happened she was watching me when I first observed her; then, like a flash, she would bow and smile with the air of the most intimate camaraderie.
Of course, I pointedly ignored her, but it had no effect; for the next time her greeting was only the more effusively intimate. Naturally, the people stared. I felt sure they winked at one another knowingly, when my back was turned. The whole situation was intensely irritating and growing more so every day; and my patience, never long at best, must have been a trifle uncertain for those around me.
I think I am not an unjust man, by nature; but some provocations would make even the best tempers quick and squally. And, then, what is the good of being an Archduke, if one may not flare out occasionally!
I was a bit lonely, too. The King was in the North and the Princess was with him—and so, for a time, was Lotzen, I happened to know; though I understood he had, now, left them and was returning to Dornlitz. I wished him a long journey and a slow one.
His suave courtesy was becoming unbearable; and my sorest trial was to receive it calmly and to meet it in kind. Truly, if he had found a brilliant leading woman in Madeline Spencer, he had an equally brilliant leading man in himself.
I was no possible match for him; and I could feel the sneer behind his smile. I wanted to give him a good body beating—and I was sure he knew it, and that it only amused him. I could, now, quite understand the rage which makes a man walk up to another and smash him in the face without a word of preliminary. I would have given five years of life to do that to Lotzen.
And, instead, I had to smile—and smile—and smile. Bah! it makes me shiver.
He must have fancied I wished him a long absence, for he returned with astonishing promptness. I saw him the next afternoon in the Officers' Club—and our greeting was almost effusive. In fact, if anything were required to prove how intensely we despised each other, this demonstrative cordiality supplied it. It was so hollow it fairly resounded with derision.
"I'll ride over to Headquarters with you," he said.
"I'm walking," I answered.
"Good, I'll walk, too," he replied.
So, we set out—the orderly following with the Duke's horse.
"When did you come in?" I asked—knowing perfectly well the very hour of his arrival.
"Last night, on the Express from the North," he answered—knowing that I already knew it.
"Had a good time, of course?" I remarked.
"Delightful—we wished for you."
"It's astonishing how kind you all are to the stranger," I said.
He shot a quick glance at me.
"We don't regard you as a stranger, my dear cousin," he protested.
"I believe you," said I. "Judged by the way His Majesty and the Princess, and you have treated me, the heir of Hugo might never have lived beyond the Kingdom."
This brought another look.
"The Dalbergs don't do things by halves," he answered.
"So I have noticed, cousin. I only trust I can live up to it."
He laughed. "You promise very well, Armand, very well, indeed."
"I am glad," I answered.
When we reached Headquarters, I suggested that he come up to my office and smoke a cigar. I thought he would decline. But, there, I erred.
"Thanks," said he, "I'll join you as soon as I've registered," and he turned down the corridor toward the Adjutant General's office.
On my desk was a wire from the Princess. She and the King would reach Dornlitz the next morning and I was expected to lunch at the Palace. I dispatched an answer that would meet the Royal train en route, and thought of Lotzen with indifference—almost.
When he came, I was going through a batch of papers which had just been brought in for my signature.
"Don't let me disturb you," he said heartily. "Finish the miserable red tape."
I nodded.
He chose a cigar and, having lighted it, with the careful attention he seemed to give to the smallest matters, he sauntered to the window that overlooked the Avenue.
Presently, he glanced around at me.
I went on with my work.
Then he glanced again.
I signed the last of the papers, pushed them aside and arose.
"Mrs. Spencer is about to pass," he said.
"I trust so," said I. "I'm sure I've no desire for her to stop."
Then, suddenly, he frowned—and made a short bow.
"She had the impudence to speak to me," he said.
I smiled and made no comment. For the life of me, I could not determine if his surprise were natural or assumed.
He crossed to a front window and watched her out of sight.
"There is no discounting her beauty," he remarked.
I was silent.
He came over, and dropped into a chair on the other side of the table. It was just where Mrs. Spencer had sat, and, so, a very fit place for him.
"She must be a most extraordinary woman," he observed.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Yet, what I can't understand, is what she hopes to gain by masquerading, here, as your wife."
I looked at him and waited. He was steering into strange waters, it seemed to me.
"Now, if she had done it in Paris, or Vienna, or any place outside of Valeria," he went on, "one could see the temporary profit of it. But, to come to Dornlitz and dare it under your very nose!"—he flung up his hands. "She is a bit too much for me!"
I saw his drift, now. He wanted to know if I suspected him; and, to that end, was quite willing to match his wit against mine. His contempt for my discernment was not, especially, flattering; but, sometimes, it does no harm to be taken for a fool—if one is not. And I was conceited enough to consider myself the latter. Which, however, may only have proven that Lotzen was right.
"And for me, too, at present," I answered.
"At present?" he echoed, blowing a succession of smoke rings and watching them float away.
I nodded. "She will get tired of the game, presently, and quit."
"She has stuck to it rather persistently," he observed; "and crossed the seas to play it."
"Yes," said I, "she did just that; yet she is none the less liable to quit abruptly to-morrow."
That would interest him, I thought. It did.
"You are judging from experience?" he asked, rather quickly.
"I've known the lady for a few years," I laughed, "and I've yet to find her true either to herself or to the hand that paid her."
It was characteristic of the man that, at these last words, he made no quick glance at my face. Instead, he studied the end of his cigar. When he did look at me, it was in the perfectly natural way of asking a question.
Then I got a start. He suddenly struck straight from the shoulder.
"By 'the hand that paid her,' you mean?" he asked—and now, his eyes were fairly drilling into mine.
I took on a look of surprise.
"What does it usually mean?" I answered, with a bit of a shrug.
He either had to appear to accept the inference in this answer or else ask me blankly if I meant that Mrs. Spencer was in his employ. He chose the former.
"It is very difficult to associate such a beautiful woman with thedemi-monde," he said.
"Yet, Saint Anthony would stand no chance with her."
He looked at me with an amused smile.
"I assume you lay no claims to even ordinary saintship?"
"None, whatever, my dear Duke."
"Possibly, you avoided situations which might put you to the test?"
"Possibly," I laughed.
"You are more of a Saint than you imagine," he answered.
I shook my head.
"Colonel Spencer was my friend," I said.
"And his wife—and widow would have been—yours—and you would not;n'est ce pas?"
I smiled.
"So, that's the motive for it, is it. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,'" he quoted. It was meant as a question, however.
I appeared to hesitate.
"Revenge, sometimes, does take queer forms," I said tentatively.
"And you, too, think this is revenge?" he asked.
"What other motive could she have?" I answered.
He closed his eyes, a moment; lest, I suppose, his amused contempt would shine out so plainly that even stupid I would see it. He was sure, now, he had been right in deeming me too heavy-witted to suspect him.
"It might be blackmail," he suggested.
"Then, she is a very long time in naming her price," I replied.
"True; but, maybe, she is enjoying Dornlitz," he laughed.
I laughed, too.
"It's none of my business, of course, Armand," he went on, "but, why don't you run her out of the Kingdom, instead of keeping her in by force."
"I'm waiting for her to get tired of the game and quit."
He thought a bit.
"Maybe, I can help you," he said.
I had not Lotzen's gift of imperturbability but I did my best not to show my surprise.
"You are very kind," I answered; "though I don't see what you can do."
"I may take it you have no particular—regard for the lady?" he asked.
"Indeed, you may!"
"So you would have no objection to someone making a—try at her?"
"None whatever, I assure you. As many someones and as many tries as you wish—and may they all win."
"Now, you're a trifle too generous," said he. "I've taken rather a shy at her myself and—you understand?"
I thought I did—but not as he meant me to. What he wanted was liberty to communicate, at will, directly with the lady, without arousing suspicion or seeming to side against me.
I shut one eye, and looked at him as though in sly comprehension.
"But, how will that help me?" I asked.
"In this way," said he. "You think she is tired of her game and about ready to quit. I come along; and she tosses you over and seizes the new prey. I'll tell her plainly she cannot have me so long as there is any question about her being your wife."
"But, won't it raise a nasty scandal?" I objected.
"Not a bit," he said, with a knowing smile. "We have ways to do such things, you know. I have a Chateau near the French Border—the lady leaves for Paris—and goes by way of the Chateau.Comprenez vous?"
I wanted to laugh in his face. What a charming scheme to get Mrs. Spencer out of the Kingdom!
"But, suppose," said I, "she cuts the Chateau and keeps right on to Paris?"
"Trust me, my dear Marshal, she won't cut the Chateau. I shall be with her when she leaves Dornlitz."
"I know the lady," said I. "I'm afraid to risk it."
He tossed aside his cigar and lit a fresh one. "Very well, cousin," he said, with an air of good-natured indifference. "It's your affair, of course. I only wanted to aid you in any way I could. You're the best judge, however, how to handle the matter. If you need me, I am yours to command."
"My dear Duke," I said, "I realize your friendly spirit and I want you to know I appreciate it; and I shall not hesitate to call on you if the occasion arise."
He flung his cape around him and hooked up his sword.
"And, in the meantime, do I understand that I am to keep severely away from the lady?"
I hesitated. Of course his point was to obtain from me direct authority for him to visit her. The very fact that he wanted it was a sufficient reason for refusing; but, on the other hand, so long as he thought himself unsuspected, it might not be a bad move to give him the opportunity. It would increase the chances for them to make a blunder. I determined to risk it.
"The only restriction, touching Mrs. Spencer, is the order of the Military Governor," I answered. "If you can induce her to acknowledge the falsity of that certificate, she shall be free to resume her journey to the Devil,viayour Chateau, and joy go with her."
He flung back his head and laughed heartily.
"A trifle hard on my Chateau, cousin, to locate it on the road to Hell. But we will let it pass. For, between us, it is a good road and an easy; and they, who travel it, are a finer lot than the superstitious dreamers who grope, in darkness, along the bleak and stony path they fancy leads upward to the Light."
"You mistook my meaning," I said. "It's not for me to criticise another's chosen road, whether it be the rough one or the smooth. There are no hand boards at the forking, and only a blind fall at the end of each. It's all a guess; and, so far as I know, one road is as good as another."
He looked at me, rather curiously. "Which road do you travel, cousin?" he asked.
"Neither, by intention," I answered. "I am still at the Forks."
He laughed, rather sarcastically. "Well, when you leave them, if you chance to come my way, the Chateau is at your disposal. Meanwhile, I'll endeavor to steer Madame Spencer, alias Dalberg, toward it."
I could feel the deliberate sneer, but it was too well veiled to resent, openly.
"At least, don't expect me as a guest while she is there," I replied.
"I don't imagine I would want you, then," said he. He went over to the door; then returned and, leaning on the back of a chair, looked at me thoughtfully.
"What now?" I wondered—and waited.
"There is a matter, cousin," he began, "which has been on my mind lately—and this may be as good a time as any to take it up."
I nodded. "Go ahead—we are in the humor for confidences, this afternoon, it seems."
"And for plain speaking?" he asked.
"Between men I'm always for that," said I. "It's the safest in the end."
"Exactly my opinion. I am glad to have one of your experience and discretion agree with it," he answered.
It seemed to give him the keenest pleasure to sneer at me, to my very face, with compliments he thought I would take seriously. And, in truth, I think I was beginning to enjoy it as much as he.
"You are a bit old for your age, my dear Duke," I said.
"But I have much to learn," he said modestly.
"It will all come in time, cousin," I answered patronizingly.
He dropped his head an instant—to hide his smiles, I knew.
"A charming afternoon," he said. "Confidences—compliments—and plain speaking. We are making rare progress, cousin mine."
"And, why not?" I asked.
"Surely," he exclaimed, heartily, "surely—why not?" Then he paused. "And, now, for the plain speaking."
"Good," said I; "drive ahead; and make it as plain as you like."
"I'll do it," he said. "What I want to know is: First—do you intend to try to displace me in the Line of Succession? And, second—are you a suitor for the hand of the Princess Royal?"
It would have been impossible to hide my surprise, so I made no effort. Surely, this man's methods were almost beyond comprehension!
"My dear Duke," I replied, "your questions are plain, and a plain answer will do for both—it is none of your business."
He laughed. "By which I infer you decline to answer."
"Precisely!"
He tossed away his cigar and slowly lit another.
"Of course, Armand, that is your privilege; but, then, you must pardon the further inference that to decline to answer is, really, to answer in the affirmative."
"You are responsible for your inferences, not I," I replied curtly.
He leaned a bit forward. "Let us take up my first question," he said. "Have you ever considered what you were likely to encounter if you undertook to filch the Crown?"
"Filch?" I interrupted.
"Steal, then, if you prefer. I forgot we were to use plain terms."
"Very true," said I. "Proceed."
"Do you think that I, who have been the Heir Presumptive since the instant of my birth, almost, will calmly step aside and permit you to take my place?"
I looked at him, indifferently, and made no answer.
"Do you fancy, for an instant," he went on, "that the people of Valeria would have a foreigner for King?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"And even if old Frederick were to become so infatuated with you that he would restore you to Hugo's place in the Line of Succession, do you imagine, that the House of Nobles would hesitate to annul it the instant he died?"
From the written words, one might well infer that he spoke loudly and in open anger; whereas, in fact, his face was smiling and his voice was even more soft than usual. It behooved me to meet him in kind.
"As you seem to have been doing my thinking, cousin, perhaps you have also thought out my answers. If you have, I shall be glad to hear them; it will save me the labor of thinking them out for myself."
His smile broadened. "The only labor I can promise to save you, cousin, is that of being King."
"I fear it is a bit early for me to choose my Prime Minister," I said.
His smile became a laugh. "Let us pass to my second question. It, however, demands no thinking. There is ample evidence of your intention as to the Princess."
"Then, why ask it?" I inquired.
"Because, of her intention toward you, I am not so sure—but, women are queer creatures and prone to take queer crotchets. You aim to marry her; and so, having won the King and stolen my birth-right, to use her popularity to secure you on the Throne. You see, all roads lead to the Throne."
"All roads which His Highness of Lotzen travels," I observed.
He tilted back the chair; then let it drop sharply forward to the floor.
"Just so, cousin, just so," he said.
"And one of those roads passes by your Chateau?" I asked.
For an instant, he seemed to suspect my true meaning, and I regretted the word. Then the suspicion faded and he accepted them at their face value.
"Morals have nothing to do with a King," he laughed; "nor with the subject under consideration."
"Apropos of the latter," said I, "I suppose I am very stupid, but I don't quite understand why, if you feel so about the Princess, you offered to aid me in getting rid of Mrs. Spencer."
"Pure selfishness, cousin. I have taken a liking to the Lady, myself."
"Then, at least, I may thank you for your selfishness," I sneered.
He smiled; then turned and looked at the clock on the mantel behind him.
"Come, Armand," he said, "I must be going. Will you condescend to answer?"
I arose.
"You won't? Well, it's not really necessary—but, have you a dice box handy?"
"I have not."
"A pack of cards, then?"
"No."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Take my advice and get them—you are far, very far, out of the fashion, cousin mine. However, this will serve, though it's rather low class," and he took out a gold coin and rang it on the table. "You were an American officer and, I understand, they are as game a lot of men as wear swords. Will you bear that out and try a toss with me?"
"And the wager?" I asked.
He slowly drew the chair backward; but, instead of dropping it with a crash, he leaned far over it toward me and said, very slowly.
"Two tosses and two wagers. The first, for the Princess; the second, for the Crown."
I waited a moment until I could control my voice.
"It will give me the most intense pleasure, my dear Duke," said I, "to toss you—not with yonder coin but out of yonder window. I fancy a second toss would not be necessary; but, if it were, I could do it with as much pleasure as the first."
Lotzen's face got crimson; then, gradually paled—like red-hot iron passing to a white heat. He let the chair fall slowly into place; and so easily that I could not hear the feet strike the floor.
So, for a space, we stood at gaze. Then he spoke; and I marvelled at the continued calmness of his voice.
"You are my superior officer, so I may not strike you nor draw against you. But you will, I trust, pardon me, my dear cousin, if I tell you that you are a snivelling coward."
"Pray, don't hide behind my temporary rank," I answered hotly. "I waive it, gladly. Anything, for a chance to puncture that rotten carcass of yours or to get a good fair crack at your smooth face."
It was a foolish speech. I knew it the moment it was out. But I never had acquired self-restraint when aggravated by those I disliked—and I despised Lotzen. Possibly, he had far better ground for despising me. Had our positions been reversed, I am quite sure I would have viewed him much as he did me—a foreigner—an interloper—a scheming usurper—a thief.
My explosion seemed to calm the Duke. He looked at me, intently, for a moment; then bowed gravely.
"I beg Your Highness's pardon," he said; "you are not a coward."
I might not be outdone, so I bowed back at him. "Thank you," said I; "and I also beg your pardon and withdraw my adjectives."
"Merci, Your Highness," he answered. "Let us consider the matter closed?"
"With pleasure," said I.
"And I shall hope to have the honor of crossing swords—foils, I mean, with you, some day," he said meaningly.
"The hope is intensely mutual, my dear Duke," I answered.
He drew himself up to attention and saluted stiffly. I returned it in kind.
"And, with Your Highness's permission," I said, "I shall ask you to refrain from communicating with Mrs. Spencer. I appreciate your offer but, upon second thought, I doubt the wisdom of it."
"As you wish, monsieur," said he; "as you wish."