The Princess Dehra

“Very good, Colonel, then we will go right in, and you can be thawing while I am explaining – come along, man, come along,” and taking him by the arm they went on down the corridor, and entered the Princess’ small reception room next her boudoir.

“Announce us,” said the Archduke to the footman, “but say to Her Highness that I would like a few minutes private speech with her – and to Mademoiselle d’Essoldé say that Colonel Moore has a message from me and awaits her here… I leave that message to your Irish wit,” he remarked, when the servant had gone.

But the man was very slow in returning, and presently Moore laughed.

“It’s getting chilly,” he observed – “notice it?”

The boudoir room swung open and Mlle. d’Essoldé came in.

“Can’t say I do,” said the Archduke aside, as he acknowledged her curtsy; “looks very charming to me.”

She gave the Archduke a smile, Moore a look of indifferent greeting, and then Armand another smile.

“My mistress receives Your Highness,” she said, holding back the door; and quite ignoring Moore’s effort, as he sprang forward to relieve her.

Under the chandelier, where sixty candles fluttered their mellow light about her, the Regent of Valeria was standing; but her eyes were on the red rose she was slowly pulling apart, nor did she lift them when Armand entered. Having come in a little way, slowly and with purposeful deliberation, he stopped, and leaning on his sword tarried for her to speak; and willing that she should not, for a while, that so, he might have this picture long enough to see it ever after – this white-robed, fair-headed daughter of the Dalbergs, waiting to pass judgment on her betrothed.

The last petal fell; she plucked another rose – a white one – from her corsage, and looked up.

“You may speak, sir,” she said, in voice an impersonal monotone.

The Archduke bowed.

“I have nothing to say,” he replied.

She raised her eye-brows in polite surprise.

“I thought you had requested ten minutes private speech with me.”

“I did,” said Armand, “but I withdraw the request; explanations are vain, when one has been already judged, and judged unheard.”

“One who is taken red-handed can have no explanation that explains,” said she.

Then, of a sudden, out flashed the adorable smile, and she laughed, and flung him the white rose.

“There, dear,” she said, “there, is your pardon – now, come,” and she held out both hands; “come and forgive me for this afternoon.”

And when he had forgiven her, she put him in a chair and perched herself on the arm beside him.

“Tell me, Armand,” she said, “are we never to be free of that awful woman? – where did she come from? – how did she happen to be at the Inn?”

“And how did I happen to be with her there, you want to know,” he laughed.

She nodded. “That more than all – yet I didn’t ask it.”

He took out the anonymous letter, which he had remembered to get from Courtney; and when she had read it, he tore it into bits.

“Will you have the explanation that explains now or during dinner?” he asked.

She sprang up.

“I forgot I was hungry! Come we will get Elise and Moore – that girl is a rare coquette; she makes my poor Adjutant’s life very miserable.”

“It looks like it!” said Armand opening the door just as Moore caught Mlle. d’Essoldé and kissed her, despite her struggles.

“I warned you, my lady,” he was saying, “you would tempt me too far some day … will you forgive me now, or shall I do it all over again?”

The Princess laughed. Moore’s arms dropped and he sprang back, while Mlle. d’Essoldé, flaming with embarrassment and anger, buried her face in her hands.

“Forgive him until after dinner, Elise,” said Dehra; “you can retract then, and resume the situation, if you wish.”

“O wise and beneficent ruler!” said Moore, bowing to the ground, “I agree to the compromise.”

Mlle. d’Essoldé looked at him in contemptuous scorn – though, in truth, she was more inclined to laugh; she never could be angry with her Irishman, for long.

“You savage,” she said, “you brutal savage; don’t ever speak to me again.”

He stepped forward and offered his arm, with all the suavity he knew so well.

“Never again after dinner, mademoiselle,” he said sadly; “meanwhile, the pleasure is mine.”

And to his surprise she took his arm; and when the others’ backs were turned, she looked up and smiled, the impudently provoking smile he had suffered under so long, and had at last punished.

“My compliments, Monsieur Ralph, on your adroit proficiency,” – and the tone and manner were as provoking as the smile – “it is quite unnecessary to refer to what it proves.”

“As much so, as to refer to what enables one to recognize proficiency,” he agreed.

“And if all the men I know are like you, sir – ”

He bent down.

“Now that is an inference I’m curious to hear.”

“Do you want them to be like you?” she asked, eyes half closed and glances sidelong – “because, if you do, it would be rather easy to oblige you – and may be not unpleasant – and I can begin with His Highness of Lotzen – truly it’s a pity, now, I ruined my frock so needlessly this morning, in the japonica walk;” and giving him no time for reply, she dropped his arm and glided quickly into the chair the bewigged and powdered footman was holding for her.

No mention of the Twisted Pines was made until the coffee was being served; then the Princess motioned for the liqueur also to be put on the table, and dismissed the servants.

Drawing out her case, and lighting a Nestor, she smiled at the Archduke, and at his nod passed the cigarette across; – and when Colonel Moore looked inquiringly at Mlle. d’Essoldé, she shrugged her pretty shoulders and gave him hers.

“You know what it implies, Elise,” Dehra remarked. – “No? – then ask Colonel Moore to tell you sometime – now, we’re to hear the explanation that explains – the Tale of the Veiled Lady of the Inn,” and she looked at Armand…

When he had finished, the Princess offered no comment, but frowned and played with her cigarette; and the Archduke, ever glad for any excuse to look at her, and very ready to be silent the better to look, watched her in undisguised devotion.

“What’s the plot behind it?” she demanded, suddenly; “I can’t make it out – it’s absurd to fancy that woman honest, though I’m perfectly sure Lotzen has the Book. But why – why should he want to show it to us? Not out of love nor friendship, surely; nor bravado, either; our dear cousin isn’t given to any such weakness. So it must be simply a rather clumsy attempt to lure you to the Ferida for slaughter – and that, again, seems unlikely; for Ferdinand isn’t clumsy, nor would he want you murdered in his Palace; and as to the provision that you need not go – or that you may take a dozen with you if you wish – and if you don’t go, that she preferred Colonel Moore, or some one with brains and a sword – all that, I say, is too amazingly inconsistent with anything except entire honesty for my poor brain to solve.”

“Don’t try, my dear,” the Archduke laughed. “We will give you the solution to-morrow.”

She laid aside her cigarette, and, folding her arms on the table, surveyed him in displeased surprise.

“Surely, Armand, you don’t mean that you are going?” she asked.

He nodded, smilingly.

“Why not?” he asked – “the Colonel and I, with a few good blades, and the Veiled Lady’s promise to protect us.”

“But it’s absurd, perfectly absurd, for you to take such risk. At the best, you are obligated only to look, to make no attempt to-night to recover the Book; and at the worst you can only fight your way out of the trap. In the one case, Colonel Moore can do the looking as well as you – in the other, their plot to kill you will have failed and your substitutes will be given some excuse by Spencer and let go in peace – oh, it’s worse than absurd for you to go, Armand,” – she saw from his expression that her argument was futile – “and you know it, too; and you’re going only because you like the excitement, and to show Lotzen, like a big boy, you’re not to be dared.”

The Archduke laughed at her indulgently.

“May be I am, little girl,” he said; “but I’ve made up my mind to fight this business out myself, and that sends me to the Ferida to-night. I’ll take every precaution – ”

“Except the proper one of staying away,” she interrupted. “You’re struggling for a Crown, man, and mad rashness has no place in the game. Play it like Lotzen, in the modern way, not like the Middle Ages – he uses its methods, true enough, but lets others execute his plans and face the perils.” – She put out her hand to him. – “Come, dear, be reasonable,” she begged; “be kind; even the wildest idea of leadership does not obligate you to go.”

He took her hand and held it, with the firm, soft pressure of abiding affection, looking the while into her fair face, flushed now with the impetuous earnestness of her fear for him.

“I think it does, Dehra,” he said gravely. “It is our duty to the country to find the Laws and settle the Succession at the quickest possible moment – ”

“Yes, it is, but – ”

“And there are but three in the Kingdom who have ever seen the Book, you and Lotzen and myself; and there must be no question as to its absolute identification, before you as Regent resort to force to recover it – force that may necessitate the taking of the Ferida by assault. Therefore, dear, I must go, for I must see the Book. Assume, just for illustration, that Colonel Moore brings a description that seems to correspond to the Laws; you, as Regent, formally accuse the Duke of Lotzen of having the Book and demand its instant surrender; and upon his indignant denial that he has it, and his offered readiness to have his Palace searched, you order me, as Governor of Dornlitz, to have my rival’s residence invaded and subjected to the ignominy of a mandat de perquisition; or, again, he may deny the Book without demanding a search, and submit to it only under protest; or he may refuse to permit the search and oppose it by force. And whichever the case may be, the Book will not be found – he will take very careful precaution, as to that, you may be sure. And what will my position be then, with the House of Nobles? – when our only explanation, for such fruitless insult, is that some one saw a book, which he described to us, and which we thought was the Laws. Indeed, though it hadn’t occurred to me before, it may be just such a condition that he is playing for – ”

“But, my dear Armand,” the Princess interrupted, “would it be any advantage even if we could say that you saw it?”

“An incalculable advantage, Dehra; I know the Book – there could not be any chance for mistake; and it would then be my word against Lotzen’s, an even break, as it were; whereas, otherwise, it will be his word against our guess. Yet, indeed, in this aspect, it’s very doubtful if we ought to resort to open measures against him, even if I saw the Book. It would be a question for careful consideration and counsel with all our friends – and it is but right that I should be able to assure them that I, myself, saw it, and recognized it beyond a doubt. It’s worth all the danger it may involve; though I don’t anticipate any – the more I think, the more I believe we have solved the riddle. Lotzen wants some one to see the Book – he much prefers it shouldn’t be I; he fancies I will gladly send a substitute; and he takes me for a hot-headed fool, who then will promptly play out for him the rest of his game, landing him on the Throne and myself beyond the border.”

The Princess had listened with growing conviction that he was right; now she turned to Moore.

“And what is your best judgment?” she asked.

“That His Highness has the argument,” was the prompt reply; “and I confess I was hitherto of your mind, and urged him, all I might, to let me go in his stead. Now, I am convinced not only that we should verify Mrs. Spencer’s story, but that the Archduke must do it.”

“And because he has seen the Book, and can identify it beyond doubt?”

“Exactly that, Your Highness; such identification is vital.”

Dehra nodded and sipped her cordial meditatively; while Armand watched her in sudden disquiet; he had seen that look on her face a few times only, and it always presaged some amazing decision that was immutable – and not always to his approval. When she raised her eyes, it was with the conquering smile that he had never yet stood out against for long.

“Armand,” said she, “you and Colonel Moore have persuaded me; it is right for you to go, and I’ll go with you – ”

“What! You!” the Archduke cried – “are you crazy, child?”

“Not in the least, dear; only very sensible to your cogent logic – who can identify the Book so well as I, who have known it all my life; you have seen it but once, you know.”

“But the danger!”

“There isn’t any danger, you said – and if there were, the Regent of Valeria will be the best sort of protector for you.”

“But you will have to – go into Madeline Spencer’s apartments – may be remain there half the night,” he protested.

“And much more seemly for me than for you, my dear, and much less – tempting.”

He joined in her laugh, but shook his head and turned to Moore.

“Colonel, will you oblige me by telephoning Mrs. Spencer we shall not be there to-night; word it any way you wish.”

“Colonel Moore,” said the Princess sharply, “you will do nothing of the sort. The Regent of Valeria requires the attendance of the Governor of Dornlitz and yourself to the Ferida Palace this night – and in the interval, you both will hold yourselves here in readiness.”

Armand would have protested again, but she cut him short with a peremptory gesture.

“It is settled,” she said; then added, almost vehemently: “surely, you can’t think I want to see that awful woman! – but it’s the only sure way to block Lotzen’s game. The Nobles will take my word as to the Book – and so will the Army, and the people, too. No, I must go.”

XVII

INTO THE TIGER’S CAGE

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 always wore it when he dined with her; for to-night, however, it was entirely too showy and hampering, and he had chosen the one quietest in tone and best suited for quick action.

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.