For the next few weeks, matters went along without any particular
incident. The snarl, in which I was entangled, showed no signs of
unravelling, and my marriage to the Princess and the Royal succession
seemed farther away than ever.
The investigations, in the United States, had yielded nothing of any
utility. Indeed, they had been practically barren, for they had told
me little more than Courtney's cablegram.
Edwards, the witness named in the certificate, had not been located,
though New York had been scraped as with a fine-tooth comb; so, it was
safe to assume his existence was only on paper and in Alderman
McGuire's brain.
The movements of Madeline Spencer had been very difficult to trace, as
was entirely natural--for what hotel servant would remember, weeks
after, the doings of a woman guest, whose life had been at all regular.
All that could be ascertained, definitely, was that she had sailed from
New York ten days prior to her arrival at Dornlitz; and that she had
registered as Mrs. Armand Dalberg at the Waldorf a week before sailing;
her luggage having been checked there from Philadelphia. The
floor-clerk and some of the pages recalled her very readily, and were
rather positive that they had not seen any foreigner with her, who
resembled a Valerian.
That was about the extent of the detectives' discoveries; for
Philadelphia yielded absolutely nothing, beyond the fact that she had
been at one of the Broad Street hotels, for a fortnight, prior to
coming to New York; and, before that, in Pittsburgh, Washington, and
New York; the last corresponding, in date, to my interview with her,
there, in December. At none of these places, could any traces be
discovered of an emissary of Lotzen.
Nor did the investigations at this end, conducted for me by Courtney's
secret agents, yield anything more satisfactory. During the period, in
question, the Duke had not been away from the Capital for over three
days at any one time, and none of his suite had been absent longer than
a week. Nevertheless, I was none the less positive that there had been
some sort of communication between Madeline Spencer, in America, and
the Duke of Lotzen, in Valeria, in response to which she was here.
So, it seemed Courtney was correct, as usual. He had predicted that
nothing would be found by the detectives; because, as he said, it was
just a case in which all tracks would be most effectively covered by
doing everything in the most ordinary way--and, apparently, that was
just what had been done.
There seemed to be nothing but to cultivate patience and settle down to
wait for someone to blunder, or for the lady to get tired of her
enforced residence in Dornlitz, and begin to get restless, and do
something which would give us a clue to work on.
She had retained her apartments at the Hotel Metzen--the management
having, however, addressed me as to my pleasure, in the matter--and, at
least, once every day, she had sought to pass some one of the City
gates; and, when refused, would then demand exit as the wife of the
Grand Duke Armand.
She drove and rode and walked about the town the cynosure of all
eyes--and some of them of admiring men, who would have been very ready,
doubtless, to start a flirtation; both for their own pleasure and in
the hope of gaining my good will by discrediting her.
But, she would have none of them, and went her way with the serene
blindness of an honest woman.
In the hotel, she bore herself with the quiet dignity and reserve
suitable to her assumed position. With the guests, particularly
Americans, she was frankly gracious and friendly; but, it was evident,
she sought no sympathy and wanted no confidants.
All these details came to me in the reports of the Secret Police. I
saw her very frequently on the street; passing her both on the sidewalk
and on horseback. And if she were pining for the newly wedded husband,
who had forsaken and denied her, she most assuredly did not show it.
Nor did her impudence diminish. Whenever she saw me she tried to catch
my eye. Several times it happened she was watching me when I first
observed her; then, like a flash, she would bow and smile with the air
of the most intimate camaraderie.
Of course, I pointedly ignored her, but it had no effect; for the next
time her greeting was only the more effusively intimate. Naturally,
the people stared. I felt sure they winked at one another knowingly,
when my back was turned. The whole situation was intensely irritating
and growing more so every day; and my patience, never long at best,
must have been a trifle uncertain for those around me.
I think I am not an unjust man, by nature; but some provocations would
make even the best tempers quick and squally. And, then, what is the
good of being an Archduke, if one may not flare out occasionally!
I was a bit lonely, too. The King was in the North and the Princess
was with him--and so, for a time, was Lotzen, I happened to know;
though I understood he had, now, left them and was returning to
Dornlitz. I wished him a long journey and a slow one.
His suave courtesy was becoming unbearable; and my sorest trial was to
receive it calmly and to meet it in kind. Truly, if he had found a
brilliant leading woman in Madeline Spencer, he had an equally
brilliant leading man in himself.
I was no possible match for him; and I could feel the sneer behind his
smile. I wanted to give him a good body beating--and I was sure he
knew it, and that it only amused him. I could, now, quite understand
the rage which makes a man walk up to another and smash him in the face
without a word of preliminary. I would have given five years of life
to do that to Lotzen.
And, instead, I had to smile--and smile--and smile. Bah! it makes me
shiver.
He must have fancied I wished him a long absence, for he returned with
astonishing promptness. I saw him the next afternoon in the Officers'
Club--and our greeting was almost effusive. In fact, if anything were
required to prove how intensely we despised each other, this
demonstrative cordiality supplied it. It was so hollow it fairly
resounded with derision.
"I'll ride over to Headquarters with you," he said.
"I'm walking," I answered.
"Good, I'll walk, too," he replied.
So, we set out--the orderly following with the Duke's horse.
"When did you come in?" I asked--knowing perfectly well the very hour
of his arrival.
"Last night, on the Express from the North," he answered--knowing that
I already knew it.
"Had a good time, of course?" I remarked.
"Delightful--we wished for you."
"It's astonishing how kind you all are to the stranger," I said.
He shot a quick glance at me.
"We don't regard you as a stranger, my dear cousin," he protested.
"I believe you," said I. "Judged by the way His Majesty and the
Princess, and you have treated me, the heir of Hugo might never have
lived beyond the Kingdom."
This brought another look.
"The Dalbergs don't do things by halves," he answered.
"So I have noticed, cousin. I only trust I can live up to it."