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.”