  When Ferdinand of Lotzen left the Council, he passed leisurely down the corridor toward one of the private exits. The pressing business that was demanding his immediate attention seemed to bother him no longer, and he even took the trouble to acknowledge the salute of the guard who paced before the main stairway; whereat the man stared after him in unfeigned surprise, until the Duke, suddenly looking back, caught him in the act—and with a frown sent him to the about-face and the far end of his beat. So no one saw His Highness step quickly over and try the door of the King’s library, and, when it opened to him—as he had anticipated it would, the Princess having come that way to the Council—go in and close it softly behind him. Dropping the lock, he went to the door of the private cabinet (which was between the library and the room used for the Council meetings) and listened. Hearing nothing, he opened it very cautiously and peered inside; no one was there and he fixed the door a bit ajar, so as to be warned if anyone entered from the Council. The library was a large room, paneled ceiling and sides in wood painted an ivory white; the great, wide windows were half hidden by the Gobelin blue tapestries that hung in folds to the floor; heavy bookcases of carved mahogany lined the walls; the furniture was of the massive Empire style, but the desk was a big, oblong, flat-topped affair that had been made over Frederick’s own design—and which more than compensated in utility for what it lacked in artistry. It pleased its owner and so fulfilled its mission. It stood a little way back from the center of the room, the great crystal chandelier above its outer edge, and all the doors directly in focus of the revolving chair behind it. It was to this chair that the Duke went and began hurriedly to go through the papers on the desk, yet taking the utmost care not to disturb their arrangement, and replacing them exactly as he found them. Evidently whatever he was seeking was of the sort that needed no examination to prove it, for he passed over letters and written documents without a glance at their contents. It was not on the desk and he began on the drawers, none of which was locked. One after another was searched without success, and the Duke’s brow went blacker and blacker, until, as the last proved barren, he flung himself into the chair, and again ran over the documents on top—and again without finding what he sought. “It was only a chance,” he muttered, sending his glance around the room, “only a feeble chance;... ‘He was blotting a page as I entered,’ was what she said ... and if it were a fresh blotter it might tell the story.” He went Suddenly he turned toward the King’s cabinet, listening; then sprang quickly behind one of the window curtains; and its swaying had not ceased when the Princess and Armand entered, on their return from the Council. Unseen, he was also unseeing; yet hearing, he had little need for eyes—it was easy to picture all that occurred:—Dehra’s pointing out the positions of the King, the Laws and the box; the entry of Adolph; the opening of the vault; the valet’s return with the box; his dismissal; the locking again of the vault. But what then happened always puzzled the Duke—that it was something unexpected was proved by the sudden silence, and pause, before either of them moved, followed at once by the closing of the corridor door. He waited a moment, until he was sure they had gone, then went to the desk. What had disturbed the American and the Princess—why had their talk ceased so abruptly—why did they wait, unmoving, and then go out together and still unspeaking?... Had they seen him?... Impossible; even the window did not show through the tapestry; and he had been against the wall.... His gloves—had he let them lie somewhere?... no, they were drawn through He glanced around quickly, then went straight to the vault and began to turn the knob, while the Duke, one eye just beyond the curtain’s edge, watched him curiously. Could it be that this servant was familiar with the combination of the lock, that only the King and Dehra were supposed to know! If so ... the bolts shot back, the door opened, and the valet disappeared in the vault. In a moment he came out with the box; but Lotzen did not see him, having drawn behind the curtain; nor did he venture again to look out except when assured that Adolph’s back was toward him. Placing the box on the desk, the valet laid back the lid and with another furtive look around, went swiftly across to the wall, where hung the big, life-sized portrait of the King, the escutcheon, on the top of the heavy gold frame, almost against the ceiling. Under it was a tall, straight-backed chair, with high arms; and, mounting on them, Adolph reached behind the picture and, from the space between it and the wall, drew out an ancient book, leather-bound and metal-hinged:—the Laws of the Dalbergs. With a faint chuckle, he sprang down and started toward the box; then stopped—the Book slipped from his fingers—he gasped—his eyes widened in terrified amazement—his face took on the gray pallor of awful fear; for the Duke of Lotzen had emerged from behind the window curtain and was coming slowly toward him. “You seem startled, Adolph,” said the Duke, with an amused smile, “doubtless you thought you were alone.” He sat down in the revolving chair. “May I trouble you to give me the Book—the floor is hardly the place for the Laws of the Dalbergs.” The valet’s composure had returned, in a measure, at the tone of the other’s voice, but his hand still trembled as he picked up the Book and carried it to the desk. “Thank you, Adolph,” said Lotzen, “thank you ... you seem a trifle shaky, sit down and rest” (indicating a chair near by). “I shall need you presently.” He watched the man until he had obeyed, then opened the Laws and turned quickly to the last decree. Across the page lay a fresh, white blotter, used but twice, he noticed, as he turned it over. He had come for this very bit of paper, that Dehra had casually mentioned in her story to the Council—hoping vaguely that the King had let it lie, and that Thrice he read Frederick’s decree; first rapidly, then slowly, then word by word, as it were. And all the while Adolph watched him covertly, a sly smile in his small, black eyes. He had quite recovered from his fright—though he might be led to pretend otherwise—indeed, now that he had time to think, he could find no reason why the Duke should punish him; rather did he deserve an ample reward for having kept the Laws from the Council. In fact, why should he not demand a reward, if it were not offered?—demand it discreetly, to be sure, but none the less demand it. And, as the Duke read, and re-read, the reward piled higher, and visions of Paris (it is strange how, under certain conditions, the thoughts of a certain sort of people turn to Paris as instinctively as the needle to the Pole) danced before his eyes.... And presently he forgot the Duke, and the Laws, and Dornlitz—he was sitting at a little table along the Boulevard des Italiens, an absinthe at his hand, a merry girl, “Dreaming, Adolph,” said Lotzen, “dreaming?... of what, pray?” “Of Paris, my lord,” he answered unthinkingly. The Duke regarded him in frowning surprise. “Paris!” he muttered, “Paris! has everyone gone Paris mad?” “It was of the Boulevards, my lord—the music and the lights and the——” “Shut up!” exclaimed Lotzen; “to the devil with your Paris and its Boulevards!... How did this Book get behind that picture?” “I put it there, monsieur.”—The reward was not piled quite as high as he had fancied. “Why?” “To hide it, monsieur—until I could replace it in the box.”—The reward was dwindling marvellously fast. “Then you stole the Laws of the Dalbergs?” Adolph did not answer.... It was queer how chilly the room had got. It had seemed warm enough, a moment ago. The Duke regarded him meditatively. “Come,” he said presently; “tell me how you managed it. My time is short—speak up.” The valet slunk a furtive look at his face; it was expressionlessly pitiless.—The reward had disappeared. “Your Highness will believe me?” he asked. “Believe you, Adolph! surely—a valet never lies! Go on.” The man gulped—ran his tongue over his lips—gulped again—then began, his voice husky, full of quavers and sudden stops; while the Duke, with steady gaze and searching eye, drove him on as with a lash. “Your Highness heard my story to the Council,” said Adolph; “all of it was true except as to the last time I saw the Book of Laws.... I happened to witness the scene between Her Royal Highness and the King. It was just as she related it, monsieur. When she had gone, His Majesty sat, doing nothing—and presently he dropped asleep.... I came to the room a number of times, and always that Book stared at me, and my curiosity as to the decree grew hotter every minute. After a while, the King awoke and told me to put the Book in the box and return it to its place in the vault—then he went over to the sideboard and poured out a drink.... Here, monsieur, was my opportunity—I laid the Book in the box and lowered the lid, but slipped in an envelope to prevent it locking, then put it in the vault—which the King himself closed. After he had retired, I opened the vault and got out the Book——” “How did you know the combination?” the Duke asked. “By—by—watching the King, monsieur ... I had picked up the numbers one by one ... long ago.” Lotzen tossed him a bit of paper and a pencil. “Write out the combination,” he ordered—and smiled at the servant’s trembling hand and labored motions.... “Thank you;”—glancing at the paper and dropping it carelessly in his pocket—“proceed—you had just got the Book out of the vault.” “While I was examining it, monsieur,” Adolph resumed, “I thought I heard the King moving about in his room. I sprang inside the vault, drew the door shut, but not quite tight, and tried to put the Book in the box. But I must have been nervous, monsieur, for, in some way, I struck the lid and knocked it down; and it locked, leaving the book in my hand. I could not open the box—the only key was under the King’s pillow, on his watch chain. What was to be done? I dared not try for it that night; the King was too light a sleeper;—nor did I dare leave the Book in the vault, there was no place to conceal it, and he was sure to go in there in the morning. What was to do, monsieur? I listened—everything seemed quiet; I opened the door very slowly—no one was in the room—I stepped out, and the King’s portrait confronted me—I stared at it a moment, frightened as though it “And, now, what were you about to do?” asked Lotzen. “Put the Book in the box, monsieur, and return it to its place in the vault.” The Duke looked at him in surprise. “Clever, clever, indeed,” he muttered.... “I thought you gave the key to Her Highness.” Adolph smiled—his spirit was never long in travail. “I did, monsieur—I didn’t need it;—and it was a good play to give it up at once. Never having had the key to the box, it could not be I who replaced the Book.” Lotzen studied the little valet a bit. “Clever,” he repeated, “clever ... quite too clever, I fear.” He leaned across and tried the closed lid of the box; it lifted to his hand—and out on the desk dropped the little square of folded paper that had held the lock just out of catch. “Altogether, too clever,” he concluded, picking it up and looking at it. “I fixed that in the Council chamber,” Adolph explained; then he stared knowingly at the Duke—“monsieur was behind the curtain when I brought back the box.” Decidedly, this fellow was not to Lotzen’s liking. He made no reply beyond a quick, sidelong glance, drumming with his finger tips softly on his knee. Then he turned to the desk and tapped the Book of Laws. “You read this, I suppose, Adolph?” he remarked indifferently. “King Frederick’s, you mean?—yes, my lord, I did; but that is all—I had no time to read more.” The Duke nodded, his eyes on the Book. The valet was becoming uneasy; he fidgeted in his chair, locked and unlocked his hands, listened toward all the doors. “My lord,” he said, at length, “we may be found here!” Lotzen closed the Book. “True, Adolph, true,” he answered, getting up and stepping back. “Put the Laws in the box—don’t let it lock.” The valet sprang to obey; and as he leaned across the desk—his back to the Duke—and dropped the Book into the box, Ferdinand of Lotzen whipped out his sword, and, with the sure hand of the skilled fencer, drove the rapier-like blade through the man’s heart. Without cry or struggle, Adolph sank forward; and the box locked, as the lid fell under him. For a moment, the Duke held the body with his sword; then he slowly drew out the blade and wiped it on his handkerchief; while the dead man slipped from the desk and crumpled on the floor. Lotzen looked down at him and shrugged his shoulders. “You poor fool,” he muttered—“why did you read what didn’t concern you!”... He stooped and turned the body on its face. “No blood!—a neat thrust, truly.” THE DEAD MAN SLIPPED FROM THE DESK. THE DEAD MAN SLIPPED FROM THE DESK. He knew the room overlooked the King’s private gardens, and, going to a window, he cautiously raised the sash. It was as he had thought:—below was a thick hedge of box-wood, that grew to within a foot of the palace wall, which at that point was blank. Fortune was still his friend, it seemed; and, with a smile, he carried the valet’s body to the window and—after a quick survey of the garden to assure that no one was in sight—balanced it an instant on the casement, then dropped it behind the hedge. Drawing down the window he rearranged the curtains and returned to the desk. “Damnation!” he exclaimed, as his eyes fell upon the box—“Locked!—the fool must have fallen on it.” He stood looking at it, frowning in indecision. He had intended to take the Book with him, trusting to conceal it under his short cavalry cape—but the box was impossible; not only was it considerably larger than the Laws, but its weight was amazing for its size.... Then he saw the open vault, and what to do was plain—he would follow the valet’s plan. None now would look in the box, and, for a time, the Book would be safer there than with him; later, he could arrange to get it—he knew the combination.... He laughed cynically—it was a pretty game, and the pleasanter because it would be played directly under the American’s eye. He carried the box into the vault, closed and locked the door, and, returning to the desk, put in place the papers disarranged by the valet’s fall. Among them lay the blotter that had been in the Book of Laws. He studied it a moment ... made as though to tear it ... then folded it and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. A last glance around the room assured him that everything was as he had found it. With a satisfied smile, he turned toward the corridor door, and his “My thanks, Sire, for dying so opportunely,” he said; “may the devil keep you.” |
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