  They had gone into the library for a rubber of bridge, until it was time to start for the Ferida. Now there came a chime from the mantel, and Dehra glanced at the old French clock that her Bourbon ancestress had brought with her—among wagon loads of clothes and furniture—when she came to be wife to Henry the Third. “Well, Armand,” she said, “if we are to be at our dear cousin’s rear gate at eleven, I suppose it’s the last moment for me to change my gown, this one isn’t especially appropriate—have you anything in particular to suggest?” “Nothing,” he smiled, “nothing; except that you don’t make yourself any more attractive than is absolutely unavoidable.” “And that I conceal my identity as much as possible, I suppose?” “Undoubtedly—and the more effective the concealment, the better.” She laid aside the cards she was shuffling and arose. “Will you come with me, Elise?” she asked. “You can help me with the disguise.” Moore closed the door behind them, and going over to a side-table poured out a very stiff drink. “I don’t like it!” he said, turning around, the glass half emptied, and tossing off the remainder; “I don’t like it, a little bit!” “Then it’s appalling to think what you would take if you did like it,” the Archduke commented. The Colonel laughed and poured out a trifle more. “The liquor is all right,” he laughed; “it’s this notion of Her Highness I don’t like.” Armand had begun to deal solitaire, but he stopped and tossed the cards together. “I wonder if Mademoiselle d’EssoldÉ could persuade her to give it up?” he said. “She wouldn’t try—she, too, wanted to go. I blocked that, however; I told her that one foolish virgin was as much as we could look after in this mess, and that she would best stay home and trim the lamps. It wasn’t a happy remark, I fear, but it did the business—you will have to give me another message for her to-morrow. Meanwhile, I must go over and do a bit of dress changing myself—shall I need a mask?” “I don’t know; better take one.” The Archduke was in the uniform of a general officer, dark green evening coat and trousers, with buff waistcoat; and unadorned save for the narrow gold cord on the shoulder, the insignia on the sleeves, and the braid on the leg seam. Because Dehra liked him best in the Red Huzzar dress, he Left alone, he tried the solitaire again; but it got on his nerves, and after a minute of listless playing, he sprang up, with an exclamation of disgust, and began to pace the floor. Presently Moore returned, in the fatigue uniform of the General Staff, with its easy-fitting jacket, and was immediately sent back to telephone the Secret Police to spread a loose cordon around the Ferida, with a dozen men loitering in close vicinity to every gate. There was no anticipating what they were about to encounter, so it was well to provide for the worst. It was his duty to protect the Regent whether she wished it or not; and though he might not take them inside with her, yet if the occasion arose, a pistol shot would bring them very quickly. “It’s growing late,” he remarked, as the Adjutant came back; “if we are to be there on time we must start.” He was going toward the bell when voices in the next room told him the Princess was coming; and she entered—a slender officer in a long military coat, and a soft felt service hat. The two men mechanically raised their hands in salute, and she acknowledged it with formal motion and a merry laugh. “Will I pass?” she asked.—“See, the hat covers my hair, and its wide brim shadows my face; the coat reaches almost to my feet, and its big collar quite hides the back of my head; and, as for what’s under the coat, see again”—and loosing the frogs, she swung it back, disclosing the tunic of her Blue Guards, and, below it, the close-fitting knee skirts, and high spiral puttees of a shooting suit. “And is that as unattractive as you could make yourself?” the Archduke asked, with affected seriousness, as he fastened her coat and adjusted her sword. “It’s as unobtrusive as I could make myself—some day, if you wish, sir, I’ll show you just how unattractive I can be.” But he only laughed, and, taking her hand, hurried her to the carriage. On the drive, he told her briefly how they were to reach Mrs. Spencer’s apartments, and cautioned her, as tactfully as he could, against doing anything which might serve to disclose her identity. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said, “I’m going simply to see the Book; I shall not even speak without permission—you are in command, not I;” and she found his hand, and held it; rather sorry now that she had ordered her Adjutant inside with them, when he was about to mount his horse to follow. “Will there be others with us?” she asked, presently. “Yes, Captain De Coursey and Lieutenant Marsov, of the Cuirassiers; both guaranteed by Colonel Moore to be skillful swordsmen, and friendly to me as against Lotzen.” “And besides,” the Adjutant added, “devoted to an adventure, and in discretion unsurpassed.” “Will you tell them who I am?” she asked. The Archduke hesitated.... “No, not unless it becomes necessary; it would only make them unduly nervous; but if trouble come, they must know.” “I can protect myself, a little while,” said she, slapping her sword in laughing bravado; though indeed she was very clever with the foils. To her quick eye and natural talent had been added years of careful training under expert maÎtres; for, to Frederick, she was both son and daughter, and he had encouraged her in everything that went to strengthen body or mind. Yet she was so very modest about it, that only very lately had even Armand known of her proficiency; and now, he regularly put on the mask and plastron with her, and had her present when Moore and he were practicing. “And for more than a little while,” the Archduke replied; “and if you do have to draw, try to forget you’re fencing with pointed weapons, and bear in mind only that you must not be touched.” She leaned closer to him. “Goodness Armand, you make me afraid,” she said, with a little shiver; “I don’t want to fight any one.” “Please God you won’t have to, dear, but if you do, remember that the surest way to save your life is to take the other fellow’s.” She shivered again. “I shouldn’t want to be a man.” He slipped his arm around her and bent down. “Let me send you back to the Palace, sweetheart,” he whispered—“for my sake go back.” “It is for your sake I’m going on,” she answered, “and—I’ll kill the other fellow if I have to—but I don’t want to.” The carriage drew in to the curb and stopped. It was on a side street near the rear gate of the Ferida, and as the Archduke got out, two officers in quiet uniforms and capes, who were walking slowly along, halted, and, after a glance, came up and saluted. They were De Coursey and Marsov. “I thank you for your attendance,” said the Archduke; and leaving it for Moore to acquaint them with as much of the business in hand as was necessary, he linked arms with the Regent and they went leisurely on; there was ample time, and they reached the entrance as the Cathedral bell rang the hour. The great gate was closed and locked, but in it was a small one, so cleverly hidden among the frets and ornaments that the Archduke had trouble in locating it, and still more in finding the catch, which Mrs. Spencer had engaged would not be fastened. Across the street a number of men were loitering, and two came hastily over; but recognizing Colonel Moore, who had stepped out to meet them, they made a quick salute and were returning, when he called them back. “It will be for you to see that we are not locked in,” he said, and following the others, who had already entered, he closed the gate behind him. The drive ran between great oaks straight toward the house, but, a little way in, a narrow walk branched from it on either side and wound through trees and between hedges to the side gates, and thence on to the front. Mrs. Spencer’s apartments were in the wing on the right, and her instructions were to proceed by the path on that side until opposite the rear of her suite; then by another path that bisected the first, and which, crossing the driveway between the rear and side gates, led to the house and close under her windows; there, at the first small door, they were to knock. Eleven o’clock was a very early hour at Ferida Palace, and the Archduke looked dubiously at the lighted windows and the flitting figures inside, with the music of the orchestra, in the main hall, throbbing out irregularly in bursts of rhythmic melody. It seemed rather absurd for five people to attempt a surreptitious entrance into such a place; and again he urged the Princess to return at least to the carriage, and await him there; but without success; and in deep misgiving he went on. They gained the small door unseen, and, with a quiet word of warning, he knocked. From within came an answering knock, to which he responded with two quick taps, twice repeated; the door opened a little way and Mrs. Spencer’s maid peered out; then, assured, she swung it back and curtsied them inside. “Suivez de prÈs, messieurs,” she whispered, finger on lips, and hurried down a narrow but rather brightly lighted passage, and up a stairway, and into a room on the second floor, where she prayed that they wait until she could announce them to Madame. “And say to your mistress,” the Archduke ordered, “that it is our pleasure not to intrude upon her until everything is arranged as intended.” “If Spencer will respect the request, it will be much easier for you, dear,” he said to Dehra; “when we are watching Lotzen, the boudoir will have to be in darkness, and I’ll take care that we leave the moment you have seen the Book.” “Do you think she will recognize me?” the Princess asked. “I don’t know; it’s hard even to think what she can do or will do.” “At least, it has been easy thus far,” she laughed; “almost so easy as to indicate a trap.” The same thought had naturally been in his mind, and he had hoped it would not occur to her. “Everything has worked so smoothly it rather suggests the reverse,” he said confidently; “but whatever happen, you must keep with me or Moore.—Gentlemen, I neglected to say that you will retain your caps until I remove mine.—Lieutenant Marsov, will you oblige me by turning off all the side lights?” Presently, from somewhere down the corridor, came the ripple of Madeline Spencer’s laugh, and the ring of her clear voice. “Good-night, Monsieur le Comte! I thank you for the dance, and all the rest;”—then in quieter tones: “no, you may not come in; you have annoyed the Duke quite too much to-night, as it is—to-morrow? well, may be—tout À l’heure!” and the laugh again, and the closing of a door. The Princess looked at Armand and gave a faint shudder, but made no comment. In a moment the maid returned. “It is as you wish, Monsieur le—Monsieur,” as the Archduke’s gesture stopped the title. “Madame awaits you at once.” In the room adjoining the boudoir, the Archduke left the others and went in alone. Mrs. Spencer curtsied. “Your Highness honors me,” she said. “Pray, madame,” said he, returning her greeting with the curtest of military salutes, “let us eliminate unnecessary ceremony—this is an official visit, made at your particular request; if we are ready to begin, I will call my witnesses.” She watched him smilingly, pressing down the roses that lay across her breast—red roses, on a black gown that ended far below the dead-white neck and shoulders. “What a cold-blooded brute you are, Armand,” she mocked. “Can it be, that the pretty, innocent, little doll, out yonder in the Palace, has found a drop that is warm even when fresh from the heart?” He looked at her in steady threat. “Madame, I have told you I am here for but one purpose; beyond that, even in conversation, I decline to go. I tried to make it clear to you at the Inn, how I would come, and why. I do not remember your record, nor even know your name; if I did, it would be my duty to send you immediately out of Valeria, and under escort. If, however, you presume to use this occasion to become offensive, I shall be obliged to remember, and to know.” She laughed scoffingly, and taking a cigarette lighted it. “As a token of peace,” she said softly, and proffered it to him.... “No?—I thought Ferdinand said he had learned it from you and—but, of course, it does make a difference whose are the lips that kissed it.” The Archduke turned abruptly and went toward the door; another such word and he might forget she was a woman. She might be able to show him the Book, but, even could she give it to him, he would not have it, if its price were the Princess on her tongue. She saw she had gone too far. “Armand!” she cried, “Armand! stay—I’ll be good—I’ll be good.”—She sprang forward and caught his arm—“Don’t go—think of what I can show you.” “Then show it, madame,” he answered, facing her and so displacing her hand; “show it; and leave off personalities.” Without replying, she went to a window, and drew the shade aside a little way. “Yes, he is there,” she said, “but Bigler is with him ... ah! he is going—now, we shan’t have long to wait.”—She motioned the Archduke to her. “See—there shouldn’t be any doubt of the identification, if he give you a chance to see it.” He went over and looked. She was right; nor would they need the field glass to recognize it. Fifty yards away, in the opposite wing, were Lotzen’s apartments—his library windows raised, the shades high up, the curtains drawn back; and he, himself, at the big table under the chandelier, a twin drop-light focused on the writing pad. And even while the Archduke looked, Lotzen arose and from the safe behind him took out a package wrapped in black. “That’s it!” Madeline Spencer exclaimed, “that’s it!—Here is the glass——” He lingered for another glance, before summoning the others—and Mrs. Spencer forestalled him. She ran to the door and flung it wide. “Come,” she said, “come——His Highness needs you.” The Princess had been talking to Colonel Moore, her back to the door; as it opened, she threw up her head, and turned with an eager smile, thinking it was Armand—and so gave Mrs. Spencer a full view of her face. Then Moore stepped quickly between them and suavely bowed Mrs. Spencer into her boudoir; the next moment the Archduke was there. “With your permission, madame, we will extinguish the lights,” he said, “and raise the shades.” She smiled maliciously, deliberately moving near enough to see the Princess over Moore’s shoulder. “Extinguish the lights?” she laughed, “certainly; darkness will be better for the business, and will conceal—everyone,” and herself went over to the main switch at the corridor door and pushed it open. The Princess caught Armand’s hand. “She recognized me,” she whispered. “Oh, no, dear; you’re only nervous,” he answered—though he was satisfied she was right. “Keep your hat well down, and don’t look at her; the moment you have identified the Book, we will leave; you go with Moore; I’ll engage the vixen until you’re out of range.” He had led her to a window and raised the shade. The lights from the Duke’s library leaped across the garden court at them, but he, himself, was not visible, though on the table lay the package, still wrapped in black as when taken from the safe. Some one came behind them, and Armand glanced over his shoulder—it was Mrs. Spencer, and she was looking at the Princess; nor did she cease, though she knew his eyes were on her; instead, she smiled and shot him a quick glance, and resumed the looking. He felt Dehra begin to tremble—whether with anger or nerves, he could not tell—and Mrs. Spencer spoke. “Your Highness’ companion is evidently unused to adventures, despite his uniform; he is actually twitching with excitement.” “Or with the temptation of your proximity,” Armand replied giving her his back. And Dehra laughed softly. Colonel Moore had been at another window; now he came over, and, in the most casual way, found Mrs. Spencer’s hand and gave it a familiar squeeze. “You’re pretty enough to-night to give even an old-stager like me a flutter,” he whispered in his most caressing tones, and, in the darkness, slipped his arm around her waist. She pushed it away, though not very vigorously it seemed to him. “You are impertinent, sir,” she said. “I meant to be; it’s the only way to get on with you,” and he deliberately put his arm around her again, and rather more tightly. “Come along to my window,” he urged. She knew very well that his purpose was to divert her from the Princess, but she went—nor appeared to bother that his arm remained. Here, was a new sort of man, with a new sort of method, and she was, if the truth be told, very willing for them both. Besides, her time would come presently. “Moore is a wonder,” Armand commented—and broke off, as the Duke came into view and sat down at his table. But Lotzen was in no haste to unwrap the package; he drew it over and slowly loosed the cords, then suddenly laid it aside, and coming over to the window, seemed on the point of drawing the shade; but he changed his mind, and after staring into the garden and toward Mrs. Spencer’s apartments, he returned to the table. Without more ado he removed the black cloth, but pushed it in a heap, so that it hid the book—that it was a book, they could distinguish, but nothing else—and went to examining some papers he took from it. The Princess stirred restlessly; her nerves were not attuned to such tension; and the Archduke reassured her by a touch and a word. Over at their window, Mrs. Spencer and Colonel Moore were whispering, and laughing softly, the latter, however, with a wary eye across the courtyard. The swinging cadence of a Strauss waltz came, brokenly, from the orchestra still playing in the great hall, with, now and then, a burst of men’s voices in noisy hilarity from the card rooms or the main guard. Presently the Duke put down the papers, and, pushing aside the black cloth, disclosed the back of the book—black, with heavy brass hinge-bands across it. “Look,” the Princess exclaimed, “look! it’s very like it—why doesn’t he lift the cover ... there!—see, the pages, too!—it must be!—it is!—it——” “Run away, girl!” came Count Bigler’s voice from the corridor, “run away, I say—you’re pretty enough, but I want your mistress now.” There was a moment’s scuffle, and the door swung back——“Dark! well, ‘let there be light!’” and he snapped the switch. It all was done so quickly and unexpectedly that Mrs. Spencer was caught half way to the door, as she sprang to lock it; Armand had time only to push the Princess away from the window and step in front of her; while Colonel Moore, with De Coursey and Marsov, tried to get across to cover the Archduke. But they failed. Bigler saw him instantly. “The American!” he shouted, “the American!” and wrenching back the door, he disappeared down the corridor. “The fool!” Madeline Spencer exclaimed; “he has spoiled everything—quick, you must get away; I don’t want another De Saure house here,” with a look at Armand—“the way you came will still be open.”—She hurried ahead of them through the rooms to the stairway.... “I’ve been honest and I want to prove it, but,” she laughed sneeringly after them, “the next time Her Highness plays the man, let her wear a mask and a larger shoe.” The noise of men running came from below. “Hurry!” she cried, “they are trying to cut you off.” With the Regent between them, and De Coursey and Marsov behind, the Archduke and Moore dashed down the lower passage to the small door and out into the garden. “Come along!” said Armand; “we don’t want a fight; make straight for the gate.” Holding Dehra’s arm, he ran across the drive and, avoiding the winding path, cut over the grass—to bring up, in a moment, at a fountain in a labyrinth of thick hedges and walks, none of which seemed to lead gateward. With a muttered imprecation, the Archduke chose the one that pointed toward the winding path by which they had entered, only to discover that it curved back toward the house. “Take the hedge!” he ordered; and he and Moore tossed the Princess over the seven foot obstruction, and were swung up, themselves, by De Coursey and Marsov, whom they then pulled across. But this took time; and now Bigler’s voice rang from the garden. “Make for the side gates—I’ll look to the rear one!” he cried; and almost immediately they heard him and his men between them and their exit. The Archduke stopped. “There is no need to tire ourselves by running,” he said; “we shall have to fight for it, so we may as well save our wind.—Gentlemen,”—turning to De Coursey and Marsov—“to-night you are honored above most men—you will draw swords for the Regent under her very eye—behold!” He lifted the hat from the Princess’ head, and the light of a near-by street lamp, that shone above the walls, fell full on the coils of high piled hair, and the fair face below it. Both men cried out in astonishment, and, kneeling, kissed her hand. Then they pressed on, finding almost immediately the path by which they had entered. Meanwhile, the commotion in the garden near the palace had increased, and now the Duke of Lotzen’s stern voice cut sharply into the night, from one of his windows. “What the devil is all this noise?” he demanded. “Thieves, Your Highness,” some one answered from below—“five of them in madame’s apartments—they escaped into the garden.” The Duke made no reply, at least which they could hear; and the Princess laughed. “He’s off for madame,” she said; “and we are thieves—rather clever of Bigler to have us killed first and recognized later.” “He didn’t see you,” said Armand; “he recognized me, and thinks this is the chance he missed at the De Saure house.” A moment later they came into the wide drive-way, and face to face with the Count and a bunch of a dozen men. He gave a shout that rang through the garden. “Seize them!” he cried; “kill any that resist!” knowing very well that it would require the killing of them all. He, himself, drew his revolver and stepped to one side—a safer place than in the fighting line, and one where he could get a surer shot at the Archduke, if it were necessary. But even twelve men hesitate to close with five, whose swords are ready; and in the instant’s pause, Dehra, flinging off her hat, sprang between Bigler and the Archduke, and covered the former with her pistol. “God in Heaven! the Princess!” he cried, and stared at her. “Will you play with treason, my lord Count?” she asked. “Drop that revolver!—drop it, I say!—and you men, stand aside!—into line, so!—return swords!—now, by the left flank, march!—fall in behind, Count, if you please—march!” With a laugh and a shrug he obeyed. “The Regent commands,” he said.—“Attention! salute!” and with hands to visors the column went by; while Dehra, fingers at forehead in acknowledgment, watched it pass and go down the drive toward the Palace. Then she turned, and put out her hand to the Archduke. “I’m tired, dear,” she said, “very tired——Captain De Coursey, will you bring the carriage to the gate?” |
|
