THE THREE PRINCES
Beverly gasped. The countess stared blankly at the new guard. Yetive
flushed deeply, bit her lip in hopeless chagrin, and dropped her eyes. A
pretty turn, indeed, the play had taken! Not a word was uttered for a
full half-minute; nor did the guilty witnesses venture forth from their
retreat. Baldos stood tall and impassive, holding the curtain aside. At
last the shadow of a smile crept into the face of the princess, but her
tones were full of deep humility when she spoke.
"We crave permission to retire, your highness," she said, and there was
virtuous appeal in her eyes. "I pray forgiveness for this indiscretion
and implore you to be lenient with two miserable creatures who love you
so well that they forget their dignity."
"I am amazed and shocked," was all that Beverly could say. "You may go,
but return to me within an hour. I will then hear what you have to say."
Slowly, even humbly, the ruler of Graustark and her cousin passed
beneath the upraised arm of the new guard. He opened a door on the
opposite side of the room, and they went out, to all appearance
thoroughly crestfallen. The steady features of the guard did not relax
for the fraction of a second, but his heart was thumping disgracefully.
"Come here, Baldos," commanded Beverly, a bit pale, but recovering her
wits with admirable promptness. "This is a matter which I shall dispose
of privately. It is to go no further, you are to understand."
"Yes, your highness."
"You may go now. Colonel Quinnox will explain everything," she said
hurriedly. She was eager to be rid of him. As he turned away she
observed a faint but peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Come here, sir!" she exclaimed hotly. He paused, his face as sombre as
an owl's. "What do you mean by laughing like that?" she demanded. He
caught the fierce note in her voice, but gave it the proper
interpretation.
"Laughing, your highness?" he said in deep surprise. "You must be
mistaken. I am sure that I could not have laughed in the presence of a
princess."
"It must have been a--a shadow, then," she retracted, somewhat startled
by his rejoinder. "Very well, then; you are dismissed."
As he was about to open the door through which he had entered the room,
it swung wide and Count Marlanx strode in. Baldos paused irresolutely,
and then proceeded on his way without paying the slightest attention to
the commander of the army. Marlanx came to an amazed stop and his face
flamed with resentment.
"Halt, sir!" he exclaimed harshly. "Don't you know enough to salute me,
sir?"
Baldos turned instantly, his figure straightening like a flash. His eyes
met those of the Iron Count and did not waver, although his face went
white with passion.
"And who are you, sir?" he asked in cold, steely tones. The count almost
reeled.
"Your superior officer--that should be enough for you!" he half hissed
with deadly levelness.
"Oh, then I see no reason why I should not salute you, sir," said
Baldos, with one of his rare smiles. He saluted his superior officer a
shade too elaborately and turned away. Marlanx's eyes glistened.
"Stop! Have I said you could go, sir? I have a bit of advice to--"
"My command to go comes from _your_ superior, sir," said Baldos,
with irritating blandness.
"Be patient, general," cried Beverly in deep distress. "He does not know
any better. I will stand sponsor for him." And Baldos went away with a
light step, his blood singing, his devil-may-care heart satisfied. The
look in her eyes was very sustaining. As he left the castle he said
aloud to himself with an easy disregard of the consequences:
"Well, it seems that I am to be associated with the devil as well as
with angels. Heavens! June is a glorious month."
"Now, you promised you'd be nice to him, General Marlanx," cried Beverly
the instant Baldos was out of the room. "He's new at this sort of thing,
you know, and besides, you didn't address him very politely for an utter
stranger."
"The insolent dog," snarled Marlanx, his self-control returning
slowly. "He shall be taught well and thoroughly, never fear, Miss
Calhoun. There is a way to train such recruits as he, and they never
forget what they have learned."
"Oh, please don't be harsh with him," she pleaded. The smile of the Iron
Count was not at all reassuring. "I know he will be sorry for what he
has done, and you--"
"I am quite sure he will be sorry," said he, with a most agreeable bow
in submission to her appeal.
"Do you want to see Mr. Lorry?" she asked quickly. "I will send for him,
general." She was at the door, impatient to be with the banished
culprits.
"My business with Mr. Lorry can wait," he began, with a smile meant to
be inviting, but which did not impress her at all pleasantly.
"Well, anyway, I'll tell him you're here," she said, her hand on the
door-knob. "Will you wait here? Good-bye!" And then she was racing off
through the long halls and up broad stair-cases toward the boudoir of
the princess. There is no telling how long the ruffled count remained in
the ante-room, for the excited Beverly forgot to tell Lorry that he was
there.
There were half a dozen people in the room when Beverly entered
eagerly. She was panting with excitement. Of all the rooms in the grim
old castle, the boudoir of the princess was the most famously
attractive. It was really her home, the exquisite abiding place of an
exquisite creature. To lounge on her divans, to loll in the chairs, to
glide through her priceless rugs was the acme of indolent pleasure. Few
were they who enjoyed the privileges of "Little Heaven," as Harry
Anguish had christened it on one memorable night, long before the
princess was Mrs. Grenfall Lorry.
"_Now_, how do you feel?" cried the flushed American girl, pausing
in the door to point an impressive finger at the princess, who was lying
back in a huge chair, the picture of distress and annoyance.
"I shall never be able to look that man in the face again," came
dolefully from Yetive's humbled lips. Dagmar was all smiles and in the
fittest of humors. She was the kind of a culprit who loves the
punishment because of the crime.
"Wasn't it ridiculous, and wasn't it just too lovely?" she cried.
"It was extremely theatrical," agreed Beverly, seating herself on the
arm of Yetive's chair and throwing a warm arm around her neck. "Have you
all heard about it?" she demanded, naively, turning to the others, who
unquestionably had had a jumbled account of the performance.
"You got just what you deserved," said Lorry, who was immensely amused.
"I wonder what your august vagabond thinks of his princess and her
ladies-in-hiding?" mused Harry Anguish. The Count and Countess Halfont
were smiling in spite of the assault upon the dignity of the court.
"I'd give anything to know what he really thinks," said the real
princess. "Oh, Beverly, wasn't it awful? And how he marched us out of
that room!"
"I thought it was _great_," said Beverly, her eyes glowing. "Wasn't
it splendid? And isn't he good looking?"
"He is good looking, I imagine, but I am no judge, dear. It was utterly
impossible for me to look at his face," lamented the princess.
"What are you going to do with us?" asked Dagmar penitently.
"You are to spend the remainder of your life in a dungeon with Baldos as
guard," decided Miss Calhoun.
"Beverly, dear, that man is no ordinary person," said the princess,
quite positively.
"Of course he isn't. He's a tall, dark mystery."
"I observed him as he crossed the terrace this morning," said
Lorry. "He's a striking sort of chap, and I'll bet my head he's not what
he claims to be."
"He claims to be a fugitive, you must remember," said Beverly, in his
defense.
"I mean that he is no common malefactor or whatever it may be. Who and
what do you suppose he is? I confess that I'm interested in the fellow
and he looks as though one might like him without half trying. Why
haven't you dug up his past history, Beverly? You are so keen about
him."
"He positively refuses to let me dig," explained Beverly. "I tried, you
know, but he--he--well, he squelched me."
"Well, after all is said and done, he caught us peeping to-day, and I am
filled with shame," said the princess. "It doesn't matter who he is, he
must certainly have a most unflattering opinion as to _what_ we
are."
"And he is sure to know us sooner or later," said the young countess,
momentarily serious.
"Oh, if it ever comes to that I shall be in a splendid position to
explain it all to him," said Beverly. "Don't you see, I'll have to do a
lot of explaining myself?"
"Baron Dangloss!" announced the guard of the upper hall, throwing open
the door for the doughty little chief of police.
"Your highness sent for me?" asked he, advancing after the formal
salutation. The princess exhibited genuine amazement.
"I did, Baron Dangloss, but you must have come with the wings of an
eagle. It is really not more than three minutes since I gave the order
to Colonel Quinnox." The baron smiled mysteriously, but volunteered no
solution. The truth is, he was entering the castle doors as the
messenger left them, but he was much too fond of effect to spoil a good
situation by explanations. It was a long two miles to his office in the
Tower. "Something has just happened that impels me to ask a few
questions concerning Baldos, the new guard."
"May I first ask what has happened?" Dangloss was at a loss for the
meaning of the general smile that went around.
"It is quite personal and of no consequence. What do you know of him? My
curiosity is aroused. Now, be quiet, Beverly; you are as eager to know
as the rest of us."
"Well, your highness, I may as well confess that the man is a puzzle to
me. He comes here a vagabond, but he certainly does not act like one. He
admits that he is being hunted, but takes no one into his confidence.
For that, he cannot be blamed."
"Have you any reason to suspect who he is?" asked Lorry.
"My instructions were to refrain from questioning him," complained
Dangloss, with a pathetic look at the original plotters. "Still, I have
made investigations along other lines."
"And who is he?" cried Beverly, eagerly.
"I don't know," was the disappointing answer. "We are confronted by a
queer set of circumstances. Doubtless you all know that young Prince
Dantan is flying from the wrath of his half-brother, our lamented friend
Gabriel. He is supposed to be in our hills with a half-starved body of
followers. It seems impossible that he could have reached our northern
boundaries without our outposts catching a glimpse of him at some
time. The trouble is that his face is unknown to most of us, I among the
others. I have been going on the presumption that Baldos is in reality
Prince Dantan. But last night the belief received a severe shock."
"Yes?" came from several eager lips.
"My men who are watching the Dawsbergen frontier came in last night and
reported that Dantan had been seen by mountaineers no later than Sunday,
three days ago. These mountaineers were in sympathy with him, and
refused to tell whither he went. We only know that he was in the
southern part of Graustark three days ago. Our new guard speaks many
languages, but he has never been heard to use that of Dawsbergen. That
fact in itself is not surprising, for, of all things, he would avoid his
mother tongue. Dantan is part English by birth and wholly so by
cultivation. In that he evidently finds a mate in this Baldos."
"Then, he really isn't Prince Dantan?" cried Beverly, as though a
cherished ideal had been shattered.
"Not if we are to believe the tales from the south. Here is another
complication, however. There is, as you know, Count Halfont, and perhaps
all of you, for that matter, a pretender to the throne of Axphain, the
fugitive Prince Frederic. He is described as young, good looking, a
scholar and the next thing to a pauper."
"Baldos a mere pretender," cried Beverly in real distress. "Never!"
"At any rate, he is not what he pretends to be," said the baron, with a
wise smile.
"Then, you think he may be Prince Frederic?" asked Lorry, deeply
interested.
"I am inclined to think so, although another complication has
arisen. May it please your highness, I am in an amazingly tangled state
of mind," admitted the baron, passing his hand over his brow.
"Do you mean that another mysterious prince has come to life?" asked
Yetive, her eyes sparkling with interest in the revelations.
"Early this morning a despatch came to me from the Grand Duke Michael of
Rapp-Thorberg, a duchy in western Europe, informing me that the duke's
eldest son had fled from home and is known to have come to the far east,
possibly to Graustark."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Anguish. "It never rains but it hails, so
here's hail to the princes three."
"We are the Mecca for runaway royalty, it seems," said Count Halfont.
"Go on with the story, Baron Dangloss," cried the princess. "It is like
a book."
"A description of the young man accompanies the offer of a large reward
for information that may lead to his return home for reconciliation.
And--" here the baron paused dramatically.
"And what?" interjected Beverly, who could not wait.
"The description fits our friend Baldos perfectly!"
"You don't mean it?" exclaimed Lorry. "Then, he may be any one of the
three you have mentioned?"
"Let me tell you what the grand duke's secretary says. I have the
official notice, but left it in my desk. The runaway son of the grand
duke is called Christobal. He is twenty-seven years of age, speaks
English fluently, besides French and our own language. It seems that he
attended an English college with Prince Dantan and some of our own young
men who are still in England. Six weeks ago he disappeared from his
father's home. At the same time a dozen wild and venturous retainers
left the grand duchy. The party was seen in Vienna a week later, and the
young duke boldly announced that he was off to the east to help his
friend Dantan in the fight for his throne. Going on the theory that
Baldos is this same Christobal, we have only to provide a reason for his
preferring the wilds to the comforts of our cities. In the first place,
he knows there is a large reward for his apprehension and he fears--our
police. In the second place, he does not care to direct the attention of
Prince Dantan's foes to himself. He missed Dantan in the hills and
doubtless was lost for weeks. But the true reason for his flight is made
plain in the story that was printed recently in Paris and Berlin
newspapers. According to them, Christobal rebelled against his father's
right to select a wife for him. The grand duke had chosen a noble and
wealthy bride, and the son had selected a beautiful girl from the lower
walks of life. Father and son quarreled and neither would give an
inch. Christobal would not marry his father's choice, and the grand duke
would not sanction his union with the fair plebeian."
Here Beverly exclaimed proudly, her face glowing: "He doesn't look like
the sort of man who could be bullied into marrying anybody if he didn't
want to."
"And he strikes me as the sort who would marry any one he set his heart
upon having," added the princess, with a taunting glance at Miss
Calhoun.
"Umph!" sniffed Beverly defiantly. The baron went on with his narrative,
exhibiting signs of excitement.
"To lend color to the matter, Christobal's sweetheart, the daughter of a
game-warden, was murdered the night before her lover fled. I know
nothing of the circumstances attending the crime, but it is my
understanding that Christobal is not suspected. It is possible that he
is ignorant even now of the girl's fate."
"Well, by the gods, we have a goodly lot of heroes about us," exclaimed
Lorry.
"But, after all," ventured the Countess Halfont, "Baldos may be none of
these men."
"Good heavens, Aunt Yvonne, don't suggest anything so distressing," said
Yetive. "He _must_ be one of them."
"I suggest a speedy way of determining the matter," said Anguish. "Let
us send for Baldos and ask him point blank who he is. I think it is up
to him to clear away the mystery."
"No!" cried Beverly, starting to her feet.
"It seems to be the only way," said Lorry.
"But I promised him that no questions should be asked," said Beverly,
almost tearfully but quite resolutely. "Didn't I, yet--your highness?"
"Alas, yes!" said the princess, with a pathetic little smile of
resignation, but with loyalty in the clasp of her hand.