"My dear girl," said he, "I shall be heartbroken if you leave
Valeria--but, if that is all you need to do to be free to go--and you
are not, in fact, Armand Dalberg's wife--then I am surprised that you
have not done it long ago."
She smiled, rather sadly.
"Yes, I fancy you are. I'm rather surprised myself. It would sound
queer, to some people in America, but I have actually tried, for once
in my life, to keep faith to the end. But it is as I always
thought--not worth the while. I'll know better again."
Then, she got up and, going behind her chair, leaned over the back.
"Does Your Highness realize what my going to the Governor means to
you?" she asked.
"I don't seem to be able to follow your argument," he said; "and I'm a
poor guesser of riddles."
"It means that I shall have to tell the whole ugly story of how I
chanced to come to Dornlitz to pose as the wife of the Grand Duke
Armand."
He took a fresh cigarette and carefully lit it. "But, my dear girl,"
he said, "I don't see how that would affect me?"
She laughed.
"Still the _premier artiste_! Well, play it out. If you want to hear
what you already know it's no trouble to tell you. Shall I begin at
the very beginning?"
"By all means!" said he. "Maybe, then, I can catch the point."
"Listen," said she. "For many years I have known Armand Dalberg. One
day, several months ago, there came a man to me, in the City of New
York. How he happened to find me is no matter. He spoke English
perfectly--though I thought he was a Frenchman. The name on his card
was Herbert Wilkes; but, I knew that was assumed, and I have learned,
lately, who he is. Since you, too, know, it is quite unnecessary to
repeat it. His offer to me was this: If I would go immediately to
Dornlitz and publicly claim the American, Armand Dalberg--who had just
been restored to his rightful place as a Grand Duke of Valeria--as my
husband, I was to receive an enormous sum of money (the amount Your
Highness also knows) and all expenses. I accepted instantly, mainly
for the money; but, also, to satisfy a personal grudge I had against
Major Dalberg. I made the one condition, however, that a marriage
certificate must be procured--the date for which I gave; choosing one
on which I happened to know Major Dalberg was in New York. And it was
done. How, I neither knew nor cared. One-half the money was given me
in advance--the balance to be paid the day I executed my mission. I
received it the morning following that scene at the Grand Duke's supper
party at the Hanging Garden. And, God knows, I earned every cent of
it! I was guaranteed protection while in Valeria, and to be at liberty
to depart one week after I had made the public assertion of the
marriage and had exhibited the certificate."
She paused.
"Now, perchance, Your Highness understands the matter," she added, and
smiled sweetly.
He flecked the ash from his cigarette and shook his head.
"I understand no more than I did at first, how this plot against the
Grand Duke Armand affects me," he said.
"Of course, it may not occur to Your Highness--but it doubtless would
to the King--who, of all living creatures, would be most benefited and
who most injured by my marriage story. However, if you are not my
employer, then, it will not hurt you. And, as I cannot imagine who
else it could be, I shall simply fling the whole business overboard; go
to the Governor to-morrow; tell the truth; endorse on the marriage
certificate the fact of its falseness; give it to him--and take the
first train for Paris--And, I fancy, I shall read the betrothal notice
of the Princess Royal of Valeria and the Grand Duke Armand before I've
been there a week."
Lotzen got up and went over to her.
"Do you know you are a very clever woman?" he said.
She looked archly up at him.
"You will enable me to escape?" she asked.
He took her hand--and, this time, it was not withdrawn.
"I will do my best," he said; "but, it's a fierce risk for me. If
detected, it would mean, at the very least, a year's banishment."
She smiled.
"It would mean something more than that if I told my story," she said.
"I'm doing it for you; not from fear of the story," he said softly.
"It's nicer, that way, isn't it?" she asked.
He put his arm around her--and she let him kiss her, once. Then, she
drew away.
"Sit down and let us talk it over," she said.
The King got up suddenly.
"Come along, Armand," he said, and hurried from the Gallery.
I followed him, without a word--for none was needed. The end of
Lotzen's game was very near, indeed.
In the lower corridor, we met a servant.
"Show us to the apartments of Madame Dalberg," Frederick ordered.
A dozen steps brought us to a large double door.
"This is the entrance, Your Majesty," said the man.
The King rapped sharply. There was no prompt answer and he rapped
again.
In a moment, the door was opened by Mrs. Spencer's maid.
"Madame is not at home," she said mechanically.
Without a word Frederick brushed her aside and stepped quickly in--and
I after him.
Mrs. Spencer sat facing the door and saw us enter. It is inconceivable
that she should not have been surprised, and, yet, she betrayed
absolutely no sign of it. Indeed, one would have thought we were
expected guests. Truly, she was a very wonderful woman.
She said something, very low, to the Duke; then, came forward and
curtsied to the King.
"Your Majesty honors me overmuch," she said. And then to me--"Does
this really mean that Your Royal Highness has at last decided to
acknowledge me?"
Meanwhile, Lotzen had arisen and was standing stiffly at attention, his
eyes on the King. I thought his face was a trifle pale--and I did not
wonder.
Frederick laughed, curtly, and motioned for her to rise.
"The play is over, Mrs. Spencer," he said. "We will have no more
acting, if you please."
She straightened, instantly.
"Your Majesty is pleased to be discourteous--but it seems to be a
Dalberg characteristic," she sneered. Then she broke out angrily:
"And, as neither you nor that renegade there,"--indicating me with a
nod and a look,--"was invited here, I take it I am quite justified in
requesting you both to depart. You may be a King, but that gives you
no privilege to force your way into a woman's apartments and insult
her. You are a brave gentleman, surely, and a worthy monarch. I
suppose you brought your pet to protect you lest I offer you violence.
Well, I'll give him the chance."
Even as she said it, like a flash, she seized a heavy glass vase from
the table and hurled it straight at the King.
It was not a woman's throw. Madeline Spencer had learned the man's
swing, in her Army days, and, had the vase struck home, the chances are
there would have been a new King in Dornlitz, that night.
And such was Lotzen's thought, for he smiled wickedly and glanced at me.
But, quick though she was, the King was quicker. He jerked his head
aside. The vase missed him by the fraction of an inch and crashed to
bits against the opposite wall.
Frederick turned and looked at the fragments, and at the cut in the
hangings.
"Madame is rather muscular," he observed, dryly.
"And Your Majesty is a clever dodger," she said, with sneering
indifference--then leaned back against the table, a hand on either side
of her.
"Is it possible you are not going?" she asked.
The King smiled. "Presently, my dear madame, presently. Meanwhile, I
pray you, have consideration for the ornaments and the wall."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"As I cannot expect the servants to forcibly eject their King, and as
the Duke of Lotzen dare not, I presume I'll have to submit to your
impertinent intrusion. Pray, let me know your business here--I assume
it is business--and get it ended quickly. I will expedite it all I
may. Anything, to be rid of you and that popinjay in red beside you."
"Your husband, madame," the King observed.
"Aye, my husband, for a time," she answered.
"Aye, Mrs. Spencer, your husband for a time--for a purpose--and for a
consideration."
She opened her eyes wide.
"Indeed!" she laughed. "I thought the acting was over, Sire."
Frederick's manner changed.
"It is," he said sharply. "We will come to the point. Have you ink
and pen?"
"Is that what you came for?" she sneered. "Have you none at the
Palace?"
"Quite enough to sign an order within an hour for your incarceration if
you continue obdurate," he answered.
"A kingly threat, truly," she mocked. "And, what if I be not obdurate?"
"Then it will be an order permitting you to leave Valeria at once."
"Now, Your Majesty interests me," she said. "I have been waiting for
that a month and more. What is the price for this order?"
"Simply the truth, madame," said the King.
"Sometimes, the truth is the highest price one can pay," she answered.
"It will be very easy here," he said. "You have a paper purporting to
be a certificate of marriage between you and Armand Dalberg."
She inclined her head.
"On it you will endorse that it is a false certificate; that you are
not and never were his wife; that it was procured for you, in New York,
long subsequent to its apparent date; and that you were paid an
enormous sum of money--fill in the actual amount, please--to go
immediately to Dornlitz, exhibit the certificate, there, and publicly
claim the Grand Duke Armand as your husband. That, madame, is all."
I was observing Lotzen; and, even now, his nerve never failed him. He
watched the King, intently, as he spoke. At the end, his face took on
a smile of cynical indifference--and, dropping from the respectful
position in which he had been standing, he turned and sat on the table,
one leg swinging carelessly over the corner.
Mrs. Spencer shot a quick glance at him--but he gave no answer back.
"Your Majesty has omitted one little matter," she said. "By whom shall
I say the money was paid?"
"Thank you--so I had. Make it--by persons to you unknown."
Mrs. Spencer smiled frankly.
"Your Majesty was quite right," she said. "The play is over."
She touched a bell--the maid entered.
"My jewel case," she said.
The King crossed to a writing desk and, taking pen and ink, placed them
on the table. Then the maid brought the casket.
From the bottom tray, Mrs. Spencer took a paper and handed it to the
King, who, after a glance, returned it.
"If your Majesty will dictate, I will write," she said.
Slowly, Frederick repeated the confession--and the pen scratched out
line after line on the white page. When it was ended, she passed it
back again to the King, and he read it carefully.
"Sign it, please," he said.
She looked up, with an amused smile.
"With what name?" she asked.
"Your lawful one," said Frederick.
"Madeline Spencer," she answered--and dashed it off.
Then, for the first time since we entered the room, the King looked at
Lotzen. Hitherto, he had ignored him, utterly.
"Witness it," he said sternly.
I smiled--and so did Madeline Spencer. It was the refinement of
retribution.
Without a word or a change of feature, Lotzen obeyed. Then Frederick,
himself, signed it; and, folding it carefully, gave it to me.
"Will Your Majesty graciously pardon the violence I offered you?" Mrs.
Spencer said.
Frederick nodded.
"Readily, madame," he said. "In a way, you were justified--and, then,
you missed me. Had you hit me, my pardon might not have been required."
"And will you not tell me how you discovered the truth?" she asked.
"I chanced to learn of this meeting with His Royal Highness, the Duke
of Lotzen, and was a witness of all that occurred here between you."
"You cannot mean that you overheard our conversation!" she exclaimed.
"Every word," said the King.
"But where--and how?"
The Duke glanced up toward the Gallery--and a bitter smile crossed his
face.
"His Grace of Lotzen has guessed it," said Frederick.
She turned to the Duke interrogatingly.
"The gallery--behind the arras, yonder," he said.
"Exactly," said the King.
"And you forgot the Gallery?" Mrs. Spencer asked, mockingly.
"Yes," said he, with a shrug and a lift of his eyebrows, "I forgot it."
She turned to the King.
"I shall be ready, Sire, to depart for Paris on the evening train,
to-morrow," she said.
"You shall have the permit in the morning," he answered.
Then he turned to Lotzen--and the Duke saw and understood. He
straightened up and his heels came together sharply.
Frederick looked at him, sternly for a moment.
"It is unnecessary, sir, for me to particularize," he said. "You know
your crimes and their purpose--so do I. The Court has no present need
of plotters and will be the better for your absence. It has been over
long since you visited your titular estates, and they doubtless require
your immediate attention. You are, therefore, permitted to depart to
them forthwith--and to remain indefinitely."
Lotzen's hand rose in salute.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he answered.
The King bowed to Mrs. Spencer.
"Madame, I bid you good evening and good-bye," he said.
She curtsied low.
"I thank Your Majesty for your gracious consideration," she said.
Then she stepped quickly toward me and held out her hand.
"Will you not say farewell, Armand--as in the days, long past?" she
asked.
I knew the Princess was looking; but I was in a generous mood. I took
her hand and bowed over it.
"Captain Dalberg bids farewell to Colonel Spencer's wife," I said.
Then I followed the King.
A week has passed since the night in the Gallery. Madeline Spencer has
gone--forever from my path, I trust. His Royal Highness, the Duke of
Lotzen, has taken a long leave, and is sojourning on his mountain
estates for the benefit of his health. There has been another supper
of six at the Inn of the Twisted Pines--with four bottles of Imperial
Tokay; and, afterward, a charming ride home in the moonlight.
To-night, there is to be a great State Dinner at the Palace, whereat
His Majesty will formally announce the betrothal of the Princess Royal
of Valeria and Field Marshal, the Grand Duke Armand.
So much I know--and, surely, it is enough; and far more than enough.
Yet, having that fixed and settled, there is another matter touching
which Dehra and I have a vast curiosity:
What says the great, brass-bound Laws of the Dalbergs? Has the Order
of Succession been changed? Will I supplant Lotzen as the Heir
Presumptive?
But, on that, His Majesty is silent; and the Book is locked. Nor does
even the Princess venture to inquire. Perchance, he is reserving it
for a surprise at the Dinner, to-night. Perchance, he thinks I have
honor sufficient.
Yet, none the less, do I wonder; and, I confess it, none the less do I
hope. Nor is the hope for myself alone--for, to be an Archduke of
Valeria is rank enough for any man--but, also, for her whom I love, and
the Nation loves, and who was born to wear a Crown.
And, for her dear sake, do I pray, with all humility, yet, somehow,
with the confidence of Right, that, in my unworthy self, the Line of
stubborn old Hugo may come to its own again.