the stairs brought Barry to himself with a start just as the unknown put
his finger to his lips and stepped noiselessly back into the shadow.
"Face round, but stand where you are," breathed the unknown.
Lawrence obeyed instinctively, and the next instant the hall door opened
to admit several men. The first was well on in years, with a tall,
splendid figure and a noble, distinguished face. He seemed in the grip
of some great, though partially suppressed, emotion; and, as he caught
sight of Barry, he sprang hastily toward him, both hands outstretched.
"Oscar!" he cried, in a deep, vibrating voice which held a distinctly
foreign intonation. "My dear boy! I----"
The words died in a queer, gurgling sound. One of the men by the door
cried out sharply; another drew his breath through his teeth with an
odd, whistling noise. Then silence--tense, vibrating silence--fell upon
the room as out of the shadows appeared the other man and moved
noiselessly forward to Barry's side.
He did not speak or stir after he had taken up his position there. The
two men, so absolutely, unbelievably alike, stood shoulder to shoulder,
motionless as statues, while the seconds ticked away and those who
witnessed the amazing spectacle stared and stared with dazed faces,
unable to credit the evidence of their senses.
Once only did Barry's gaze waver from the stunned countenance of the
older man to the other end of the room, where Shirley Rives stood
bending far over the table, her face absolutely white, and her wide,
dark eyes staring at him as if she were looking at a ghost.
At last a laugh, clear, hearty, and full of mirth, came from the man at
his side, and broke the spell.
"Rather good, don't you think, uncle?" the newcomer chuckled, stepping
forward a little.
"_Gott in Himmel!_" breathed the older man. "You are----"
"Of course. Don't you know me? I never supposed that you would be
deceived."
With a swift motion, the other caught his hands and drew him over to the
light.
"Let me look at you!" he exclaimed, speaking German in his agitation.
"I cannot tell! I do not know! I feel as if the whole world had been
turned topsy-turvy."
For a long minute he gazed searchingly into the young man's face, while
the others moved unconsciously closer to the two, Barry quite as dazed
and bewildered as any of them. Suddenly he threw back his gray head and
flung one arm impulsively around the young fellow's shoulder.
"You _are_ Oscar!" he exclaimed. "I know it!"
For a second he was silent. Then he turned swiftly toward the group of
men who had entered with him, and singled out one with his flashing
eyes.
"What does this mean, Baron Hager?" he demanded imperiously. "How dare
you play such a trick upon me? It is infamous!"
It was the man with the beard who stepped forward; and Barry saw that he
was trembling in every limb, while beads of perspiration stood out on
his forehead.
"Your highness!" he gasped. "I--I---- It is not a trick. I--have
never seen--this man before."
"Never seen him! Nonsense! I'm not a child. How did he get here? What
is he doing in this house? Who is he?"
Hager stared helplessly at Lawrence, and then his bewildered eyes
wandered dazedly to the smiling double. His emotion was so great,
however, that he did not speak, and it was Brennen who answered.
"I can tell you that," he said shortly. "He's the man we've been
trailing all over New York, thinking he was your nephew. He's the man
we decoyed here to-night for you to meet. If he ain't the right one,
we're a lot of suckers, that's all."
"He's my second half, uncle," interposed the young man, smiling. "It
isn't everybody who can have such a good time, you know."
"Is that the truth, Oscar?" demanded the older man. "Has he been
passing himself off for you all this time?"
"Exactly, and he did it wonderfully well, too. I owe him an everlasting
debt----"
The sentence was never finished. As he stood there, unable to make head
or tail of what was being said, Barry had a horrible conviction that
somehow his curiosity was never going to be gratified. He had come as
close as this several times before to learning the name of the man he so
resembled, and he was determined to take no more chances.
"My dear fellow," he burst out, unable longer to contain himself, "if
you owe me anything at all, for Heaven's sake pay me now by telling me
who on earth you are."
"You mean to say you do not know!" exclaimed the older man
incredulously. "Why, such a thing is preposterous."
The laughter vanished suddenly from the nephew's face, and, stepping
swiftly forward, he caught Barry's hand in a firm grip.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Lawrence," he said contritely. "I've been
fearfully discourteous. Please forgive me, and do not think me
ungrateful for what you have done. I am Prince Oscar, of Ostrau, and
this is my uncle, the Grand Duke Frederick."
*CHAPTER XLIV.*
*THE RIDDLE SOLVED.*
In the brief silence which followed there came to Barry's ears the sound
of a quick gasp, followed by a strangled sob, from the girl at the
table. And in that second, as he stood holding his own hand, as it
were, and gazing into his own eyes, he realized with a rush of joy that
this was what had troubled Shirley. They had told her that he was the
crown prince of an Old World kingdom, and it was small wonder she had
been dismayed.
"I am more than happy at meeting your highness at last," he went on the
next instant, gazing into the pleasant face of the young foreigner. Then
his lips twitched and curved into an involuntary smile. "It seems as if
I had known you all my life instead of a scant ten minutes."
The prince laughed delightedly. From the very beginning he had
apparently enjoyed the situation to the full, and there was a total lack
of royal dignity and stiffness about him which was refreshing.
"It's the greatest lark I ever had," he chuckled. "Haven't you begun to
see the fun of it yet, uncle?"
The grand duke sighed. "Are you never going to be serious?" he asked
sadly. "Do you mean to go through life taking everything as a jest,
content to remain an irresponsible boy always?"
The prince straightened suddenly, and there came into his handsome face
an expression which was very far from boyish. His jaw squared, and he
pressed his lips firmly together as he stood regarding his uncle out of
clear, level, uncompromising eyes.
"It isn't any use, uncle," he said abruptly. "My mind is made up, and
nothing you can say will induce me to change."
The grand duke's lips parted as if he meant to speak, but closed swiftly
again, and he darted a significant glance at the man with the beard.
"Be so good as to leave us, baron," he said curtly.
Baron Hager gave a start and turned hastily toward the door, followed
closely by his two compatriots and the American detectives. Brennen
brought up the rear, moving with evident reluctance, as if there were
numberless points about the affair he was pining to have cleared up.
"By the way, Mr. Brennen," Lawrence called after him, struck by a sudden
thought, "whatever you've done to my two friends, I'd be obliged if you
would undo it at once."
The detective nodded sourly and closed the door behind him. As he
disappeared, Barry realized that it would be more graceful for him also
to leave the room; but, when he made a move to do so, the crown prince
caught him by the arm.
"Please stay," he said quietly. "Mr. Lawrence is my friend, uncle.
Whatever you say before him will go no farther."
"As you will," returned the grand duke indifferently. He hesitated an
instant, his eyes fixed pleadingly upon his nephew's face. "Oscar," he
went on swiftly, "your father, the king, has sent me to beg of you to
come home to your family, your people, your country. He wants you. He
needs you. You cannot realize the nature of the step you have taken.
You acted hastily--heedlessly. For the honor of the throne, Oscar, I
beg of you--I beseech you--to give up your harebrained scheme and resume
again the place in life to which you were born."
There was no gleam of mirth in the face of the crown prince now. It was
firm and serious and a little white; his eyes were fixed unfalteringly
on his uncle's face.
"And what of my wife?" he asked quietly. A flicker of pain flashed into
the grand duke's face and was gone.
"There are ways----" he began hesitatingly.
"Ways!" broke in the prince swiftly. "What ways? You mean a morganatic
marriage, I suppose. You know that is impossible, even if I would
consider it. She is an American girl."
Lawrence, standing a little behind the duke, listening with an interest
he made no attempt to conceal, noticed how the faint, foreign
intonation--it could hardly be called an accent--in the young man's
voice was intensified in a moment of excitement.
The grand duke did not answer at once, and, when finally he spoke, there
was a hopeless undercurrent in his voice which showed clearly that he
had little hope of his argument meeting with success.
"Under the laws of Ostrau," he said in a low tone, "a woman without
royal or noble blood cannot marry into the reigning family. She,
therefore, has no standing as your wife. In Ostrau the bond does not
exist, and you would be free to marry your father's choice, Princess
Olga, of Gratz."
The young man's lips curled and his eyes narrowed. "Never!" he exclaimed
impulsively. "She's ten years too old and a thousand times impossible.
Luckily," he went on more composedly, "we're in America, not Ostrau, and
I propose to stay here. I'm beastly sorry, uncle, for your sake. We've
always been great pals, and ever since I was a kid I've loved you more
than my august father. I'd do anything else for you gladly, but this is
impossible. I'll renounce my rights to the succession for myself and my
heirs forever. Let Maurice be crown prince, can't you? He'll make a
lot better king than I ever could. All I want is to be let alone; to be
free to live my own life and be happy in my own way. Ostrau stifles me
with its foolish, cramping etiquette and narrow bigotry. It's ruined
your life, and I'll take precious good care----"
He broke off abruptly as the grand duke groaned and covered his face
with one hand.
"Forgive me, uncle!" the prince begged. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I
forgot myself. But you understand," he went on softly, "because you,
too, have suffered."
*CHAPTER XLV.*
*THE GIFT OF THE RING.*
The older man did not answer at once, and Lawrence, feeling as if he had
no right to listen, moved slowly backward till he touched the table.
Then he turned suddenly and looked down quizzically into Shirley's eyes.
"You--understand?" he whispered gently.
She nodded swiftly. "What must you think of me?" she murmured a little
unsteadily. "I didn't believe it at first, but they swore it--was true;
and, somehow, things fitted in, and--and---- Do you think you'll ever
forgive me?"
One hand stole across the table, and the strong brown fingers closed
over the tiny gloved ones.
"Did you really think I wouldn't?" he questioned softly, gazing into her
wonderful eyes with an expression in his own which swiftly brought her
long lashes sweeping down on crimsoning cheek.
"Well?" he queried as she made no answer.
"I--I hoped," she faltered.
It was the voice of the grand duke, weary, sorrowful, but full of an
unmistakable resignation, which broke the silence.
"I cannot blame you, Oscar," he was saying quietly. "I have clung to
the old traditions because there seemed no other way--perhaps I lacked
the courage to do what you have done--and my life turned to dust and
ashes. I love you too well ever to wish to see that happen to you. Have
you any--plans?"
"Heaps of them, uncle," the prince answered jauntily. "I'm going to
become an American citizen. I think I'll buy a big place in the South
and turn farmer. I've money enough."
The two at the table saw the old man wince slightly, but in an instant
he had recovered his composure.
"What a thoroughbred he is!" Barry whispered admiringly. He had
apparently forgotten to release Shirley's hand, but she seemed too
absorbed to notice the lapse.
"There will be no difficulty on that score," the duke remarked. "Your
estates belong to you personally, and their sale should net a million or
more."
Suddenly he gave a start and arose swiftly to his feet.
"I beg your pardon, Oscar," he ejaculated, in chagrin. "My
preoccupation has made me forget entirely my desire to meet your--wife.
This lady is----"
He glanced at Shirley with a courtly inclination, just in time to see
her snatch her hand from Barry's grasp and spring to her feet with
blazing cheeks. The prince saw it, too, and his eyes twinkled.
"I have not the honor," he said quietly. "My wife is just recovering
from an illness which has been the cause of most of these complications.
Mr. Lawrence, will you be so good as to present us?"
With swiftly recovered composure, Shirley acknowledged the introduction
with a naive dignity; and, when they had all seated themselves again,
the prince begged for a recital of Barry's adventures.
"Extraordinary and most diverting," he said when the tale had been told.
"Perhaps a little more amusing in retrospect. My dear Mr. Lawrence, I
feel more than ever indebted to you for what you have done. When I
started the ball rolling last Monday morning I had no conception of the
strenuous experiences I was bringing upon you. You see, I had left
Ostrau secretly with only Watkins, my American secretary, who has been
with me for years, but I was almost certain of being followed. I hoped,
however, that we should succeed in losing ourselves somewhere in the
South or West before our trail was picked up. I should explain, perhaps,
that my wife and I were married in Paris, where she was spending the
winter. She was Miss Isabel Patterson, of Baltimore. We sailed under
assumed names; or, rather, under a name I used in England during our
exile----"
"I beg your pardon," Lawrence put in, "but was it Nordstrom?"
"Why, yes. How did you know?"
"I met a friend of yours who had known you at Cambridge. He was an
Englishman named Brandon."
"John Brandon!" exclaimed the prince. "Of course! We were great
friends during my university days, but I haven't seen him in years. You
see, Mr. Lawrence, our family was exiled from Ostrau until the timely
revolution three years ago which restored my father to power. I was
brought up in England, and, as we were very poor, indeed, I went through
Rugby and Cambridge under the name of Nordstrom, which is one of our
family names. It would have been absurd for a poverty-stricken
individual to be strutting about as a prince. What times we had!" he
sighed. "I think they were the happiest days of my life--until now.
But I am digressing. Unfortunately for our plans, my wife was taken ill
just as we were on the point of leaving New York. I knew that the
pursuit would be keen, and, unless attention was diverted from us to
another quarter, we would be hunted out, no matter how carefully we hid
ourselves in New York. Considering my wife's health, I was most anxious
to avoid anything of that sort until she was recovered.
"I was at my wits' end," he continued, "and could think of nothing until
one day, while waiting with Watkins in the Pennsylvania Station for a
physician from Philadelphia, whom I knew well, and who had promised to
come on, I suddenly caught sight of you. I was simply stumped, of
course; then, like a flash, I realized that here was the way out, which
I had hitherto been searching for in vain. It took but a moment for me
to outline a plan to Watkins, arrange my bill case, and place the ring
in it. You see, that had been given me by the Rajah of Sind when I
toured India two years ago, and I had scarcely had it off my finger
since then. If an added mark of identification were needed, that would
amply suffice.
"The plan worked to a charm. When Hager, my father's chief of police,
arrived, he was completely taken in. He kept on your trail day and
night, and my purpose was accomplished. We had taken rooms in what I
considered the most out-of-the-way locality in New York. When I went
out it was always after dark and wearing a semidisguise. In spite of
every care, however, fate seemed to be against me, and caused Hager to
choose this very house for the culmination of his little drama. My
rooms are just back of this. Through the door I heard all that passed;
and, when I found that my uncle was expected, I realized that the better
way would be to end everything at once and be free from further
persecution. I can only close, Mr. Lawrence, by offering my most sincere
apologies for the annoyance to which you have been subjected."
"There is not the slightest need of that, your highness," Barry returned
hastily. "I am more grateful to you than I can say, for without your
aid I should probably have missed--the greatest happiness of my life."
"You are good to say that," the prince said simply. "I am very happy."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Lawrence asked as they arose.
The crown prince looked slightly puzzled. "I'm afraid I do not
understand."
"This," explained Lawrence, drawing the emerald ring from his finger and
holding it out. "It belongs to you, you know."
"Not at all. That is yours. It is part of the bargain, and I am sure
you have earned it."
"But it's worth a king's ransom," Barry protested. "I really can't take
it. You have given me more than enough without that. Besides, it is
much too rare a jewel for me to be wearing."
The prince darted a mischievous glance at Shirley Rives.
"Perhaps there is some one else who might be willing to relieve you of
its care," he murmured, his fine eyes twinkling.
There was no mistaking his meaning, and the girl dropped her lids, while
a rush of color crimsoned her lovely face. The next instant, however,
she lifted them again and looked bravely into Barry's questioning eyes.
"Perhaps--some day," she murmured.
THE END.
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