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diff --git a/old/54916-0.txt b/old/54916-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1dd3e05..0000000 --- a/old/54916-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7120 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Prince to Order, by Charles Stokes Wayne - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Prince to Order - -Author: Charles Stokes Wayne - -Release Date: June 15, 2017 [EBook #54916] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PRINCE TO ORDER *** - - - - -Produced by Charlie Howard and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -A Prince To Order - - - - - A PRINCE - TO ORDER - - _A NOVEL_ - - BY - CHARLES STOKES WAYNE - - - JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD - NEW YORK AND LONDON MCMV - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1904 - BY CHARLES STOKES WAYNE - - COPYRIGHT, 1905 - BY JOHN LANE - - - SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY - WILLIAM G. HEWITT, NEW YORK CITY, U.S.A. - PRINTED BY - THE CAXTON PRESS, NEW YORK CITY, U.S.A. - - - - - TO MY WIFE - - WHO, AS THE INSPIRATION, EXCITED THE IMPULSE AND - FURNISHED THE INCENTIVE FOR ITS PRODUCTION, - THIS TALE IS AFFECTIONATELY - - DEDICATED - - - - -A Prince To Order - - - - -I - - -Grey’s awakening was as gradual as a clouded dawn. For a time dreams -and realities intermingled. Then slowly a partial consciousness of his -physical being obtruded: his fingers were clutching a silken coverlet; -he turned on his side and the linen pillow-case was cool to his cheek; -through half-open eyelids a sweep of pale blue became visible. Later -he realised that he was in a curtained bed and that the blue was -the colour of the draperies. He lay still for a long while--drowsy, -inert, his sensibilities numb. Presently the ticking of a clock became -audible, and then a rumble of street sounds. At the same moment a -throbbing pain in his head asserted itself. With an effort he sat up, -his hands pressed against his temples, his mind groping. Then in a -flash the unfamiliarity of his surroundings aroused him suddenly, -sharply, like a cold plunge, and his brain cleared a trifle. His memory -went staggering back after the night before; but the mists descended -again and the way grew dark, and he could remember no night without its -morning. - -He put his feet to the floor and stood up, but a dizziness overcame -him, and he sank back upon the bed, weak and limp. His heart was -beating tumultuously and his breath came in short, quick gasps. After a -little these abnormalities passed and he raised himself on one elbow, -resting his cheek on his hand. At the contact he started, amazed, -bewildered. In some unaccountable manner he had grown a beard. His -hand ran from his cheek to his chin. Close-cropped at the sides it was -here an inch long and trimmed to a point, and his moustache was one of -several months’ culture and training. He fancied he was dreaming and -would awaken presently to find himself clean-shaven, as he had been for -years. - -And now, he remembered; after all, it was quite clear. He had been to -the opera last night, had gone from there to the club, had returned -home late, and, having a pressing business appointment at ten this -morning, had dragged himself out of bed at eight, still fagged and -aggravatingly sleepy. Now he had just had his coffee, and while Lutz -was shaving him he was dozing and dreaming. - -But how wonderfully real the transformation all seemed! He grew curious -as to how he looked with beard and moustache, and, crawling out between -the pale-blue velvet curtains, he sought a mirror. The revelation was -dumfounding. He, Carey Grey, who from infancy had been as dark as a -Spaniard, was as blond as a Norseman. He ran his fingers through his -hair, tousled it, going closer to the glass to make sure that there -was not some optical illusion. He puffed out his lip and pulled at his -moustache until his lowered eyes could see it, and he thrust his chin -forward and turned up the point of his beard with the back of his hand -until it, too, came within the range of his vision. If this were a -dream, he told himself, never before had dream been so real. If it were -a reality, never before had reality been so mystifying. - -His puzzled survey of himself was followed by a minute inspection -of the room into which he had been so mysteriously transported. Its -general aspect was foreign; its detail distinctly French. The walls -were panelled and medallioned. The bed from which he had risen was -one of a pair, each with its gilded _papier mâché_ frieze and its -looped-back blue velvet curtains. At the head of each bed were six -pillows and another of down at the foot. The full-length mirror into -which he had gazed was duplicated between two windows. Upon the mantel -was a bronze and gilt clock, flanked by partially burned candles in -brass sticks. Two tables, a couch, a washstand, a cheffonier, three -chairs and a wardrobe completed the furnishing. A couple of companion -pictures, unmistakably French both in conception and execution, -decorated two of the wall panels. The hands of the clock stood at -twenty minutes of four. He crossed to a window with three sets of -curtains and three sets of cord loops all of a tangle, and looked out. - -For the spectacle that confronted him he was not prepared. The change -in his appearance had indeed been incomprehensible; the strangeness -of the room in which he awakened was inexplicable; but to discover at -a glance that he was no longer on his native soil, that without his -knowledge he had been carried across sea and land and dropped into a -Paris hotel on the Boulevard des Italiens, was not only inconceivable -but terrifying. He was very pale, and his brain was reeling. Twice -he drew trembling fingers across his eyes, as if to wipe out the -kaleidoscope of the street below; but when he looked again the view was -even more convincing. It was a bit of the French Capital with which he -was almost as familiar as with that part of Fifth avenue lying within -range of his club windows or with that portion of Broad street near -Wall into which he had been wont to glance from his office in the Mills -Building. - -He turned away from it as from a nightmare, and, sitting down, tried -to think. The idea that he was dreaming was not tenable. He knew that -he was very wide awake and thoroughly possessed of his faculties. -His head still ached with a dull, swollen, congested sensation such -as follows a too riotous night, but he could recall nothing of the -cause. It occurred to him now that he had read in the newspapers of -cases where men had lost their memory for months and had wandered -into remote states or countries. This must be the explanation. And -in his aberration he had given way to some freak of fancy, had grown -a beard and then had had it and his hair bleached corn colour. Men -under similar mental derangement, he recollected, forgot their names -and homes. Perhaps he had been in the same plight. Now, however, his -mind was clear on those points, at least, and he thanked God for his -restoration. - -Then he wondered how long he had been away. That night at the opera and -the club; that morning he had risen early to keep an engagement, and -had dozed off while his valet was shaving him--why, that was midwinter; -and now, if he could judge by the trees on the boulevard, and the -tables in front of the Café Riche across the road, and the straw hats, -it must be early summer--late May or June; possibly, indeed, July. -And all this time his friends at home--his mother, his fiancée, his -partner--were probably thinking him dead. What a relief it would be to -them to get the cablegrams he would send, telling that he was alive and -well and was returning by the first steamer! - -He smiled as he got up and went to the cheffonier and the wardrobe in -search of clothes. He was thinking of the sensation the papers in New -York must have made over his disappearance; the theories they must have -advanced and the pictures they must have published. And then the tragic -side of the affair took hold of him, and he put himself in his mother’s -place, in Hope’s place, and fancied he could appreciate, in a way at -least, their anxiety as the days passed without tidings, and their -grief and despair as weeks quadrupled into months. - -Having discovered an assortment of garments, including a bathrobe of -pongee silk, he looked about for a tub. Across the passage he found a -bathroom, and a dip into cold water relieved his headache and balanced -his nerves. When at length he was in attire which, while quite as -unfamiliar as his yellow hair and beard, was nevertheless tasteful and -well fitting, he emerged from his room, locked the door and started -forth on a tour of investigation. His curiosity had grown with his -dressing, enhanced, perhaps, by his failure to find in any drawer, -closet, or pocket a scrap of writing or printing from which he could -gain a clue concerning his recent past. His sole discovery indeed had -been a wallet containing two fifty-franc notes and a trunk key. - -A tall, round-faced _portier_ in green livery smiled and bowed, rather -obsequiously he thought, as he passed out through the wide portal into -the boulevard. Then the commingled scent of asphalt and macadam and -burning charcoal--that characteristically Parisian odour--smote his -olfactories, and before his eyes was the afternoon panorama of the -gayest of Paris thoroughfares. It was the newspaper hour, and a kiosk -in front of the hotel was being besieged by a horde, each hungry for -his favourite journal. Every man that passed had a paper in his hand -or in his pocket. Some were reading as they walked. On the roadway -carriages, _fiacres_, omnibuses were crowding, and Grey noted, with a -sense of old friends returned, the varnished hats of the _cochers_. -The chairs under the awnings of the cafés were filling, and the -white-aproned waiters were coming and going with their inevitable -bustle of trays and glasses. - -At the corner of the rue St. Anne he crossed to the north side -of the boulevard and turned into the rue Taitbout, in which, he -remembered, there was a telegraph office, for he meant to lose no time -in despatching his cables. As he picked his way through the narrow -street the messages took form, and on reaching the office it was but -the labour of a moment to put them on paper, poke them in through the -little window and pay the stipulated toll. To his mother he wired: - - Safe and well. Sailing first steamer. Hôtel Grammont. - -And the others--one addressed to Hope Van Tuyl, East Sixty-fourth -street, New York, and one to “Malgrey,” the code name of the stock -brokerage firm in which he was a junior partner--were similar. - -Rejoining the throng of pedestrians on the boulevard, he sauntered -leisurely towards the Avenue de l’Opéra, his mind still busy with -conjectures. - -The billboards in front of the Théâtre du Vaudeville caught his eye, -but the attractions they announced made no impression. At the groups -of idlers seated at little round tables before the Café Américain he -scarcely glanced and his own unfamiliar reflection in the plate glass -of the shop windows he failed utterly to recognise. He crossed the -Place de l’Opéra without so much as turning his head, and halting at -the far corner stepped in under the ample awning of the Café de la -Paix and found a seat. Of the waiter who approached him he ordered a -_mazagran_ and some Egyptian cigarettes, and when they were brought he -sat for some time, heedless of his surroundings, his brain racked with -futile speculations. - -“_Pardon, monsieur!_” - -Someone in passing had inadvertently touched his foot and was -apologising. Startled out of his reverie he looked up, and his face -lighted. Instantly he was on his feet. - -“Frothingham, by all that’s good!” he exclaimed. - -The other, tall, straight and swarthy, turned upon him a look in which -mystification and suspicion fought for supremacy. - -“Really,” he said, coldly, “I--I don’t remember ever having----” - -“Of course, of course,” Grey interrupted, not without some -embarrassment, “I can quite understand that you shouldn’t recognise me. -You see, I--well, I’m Carey Grey.” - -Mr. Frothingham’s demeanour showed no change. - -“Carey Grey,” he repeated, icily; “I used to know a Carey Grey in New -York, a member of the Knickerbocker and the Union; but he was nearly as -dark as I am, and besides--why, he’s dead.” - -“If you don’t mind sitting down a bit,” Grey went on, as he staggered -under the news of his own demise, “I’ll try to explain. I’m Carey Grey, -just the same--_the_ Carey Grey, of the Knickerbocker and the Union, -and I’m not dead.” - -Frothingham recognised his voice now, and mystification routed -suspicion from the field. He took a chair and Grey sat down, too, with -the marble-topped table between them. - -“First and foremost,” Grey began, “tell me what day of the month it -is.” - -“The fourteenth.” - -“Of what?” - -“Of June, of course.” - -“And of the week?” - -“Thursday.” - -“Thanks. I hadn’t the slightest idea.” - -Frothingham fancied the man had gone mad. - -“The whole thing is most extraordinary,” Grey went on, and then he -proceeded to relate his afternoon’s experience, while his listener -preserved an interested but incredulous silence. - -“Can’t remember a blessed thing,” the narrator concluded, “since that -morning last winter--I suppose it was last winter. What year is this?” - -He was told. - -“Yes, it was last winter, then--January, if I’m not mistaken.” - -Frothingham looked thoughtful and counted back. He wondered whether it -was insanity or drugs, or--cunning. - -“You must have heard something of it,” Grey went on, eagerly. “Did the -newspapers say I was dead?” - -“I think that was the ultimate conclusion.” - -“I suppose they searched for me?” - -“Oh, yes, they searched. They followed up every clue. There were -columns in the papers for days--yes, for weeks.” - -Grey sighed audibly. - -“I can’t understand it,” he said, with something of distress in his -voice; “I never thought my head was weak. To be sure, I’d been under -rather a strain, with the market in the unsettled condition it was, but -my memory was always clear enough. Why, I could give you the closing -price and highest and lowest of about every active stock on the list, -day after day, without an error of an eighth. By the way, do you know -how things have been going in the Street? What’s New York Central -now--and St. Paul?” - -“Really, I have lost track, Grey,” replied Frothingham indifferently. - -“I must get a Paris _Herald_,” the man who had been out of the world -for five months continued; “I’m the modern Rip Van Winkle. Thousands of -things have happened--must have happened, and I’m in blank ignorance. I -just cabled to New York--to Mallory, my partner, and----” - -“You what!” exclaimed Frothingham, in amazement. - -“Cabled to Mallory. You know him--Dick Mallory, my partner. He’ll be -surprised to hear I’m alive, I suppose.” - -“Good God, man!” - -“What’s the matter?” - -The two sat staring at each other across the table, each a picture of -sudden startled bewilderment. - -“Then you really don’t know?” Frothingham asked. “Oh, that’s -impossible! You can’t make me believe--see here, Carey, you’re very -clever and all that, but you don’t think for one minute, do you, that -you are taking me in? I did fancy for a little while that you’d gone -off your head; but I was wrong. You’re sharp and shrewd, and you feared -I had recognised you and that that was why I stumbled over your foot; -so you made up your mind that you’d block my game by recognising me and -telling me this pipe dream. Oh, come, come, be fair! You know; and you -know that I know.” - -Grey caught his breath sharply as this torrent of insult surged upon -him. The blood rushed to his face only to desert it. His fists doubled -instinctively, and he rose to his feet, white with indignant anger. - -“Take that back!” he commanded, in a hoarse whisper. “Take it back, I -say, or I’ll----” - -There was no mistaking his earnestness, his determination; no, nor at -this juncture, his honesty. Frothingham was convinced even against his -judgment. - -“Oh, I say,” he retorted, mildly, “don’t make a scene, old chap. If I -said anything, I--I--well, of course you don’t understand. I see it -now. I’m sure I was wrong, and I ask your pardon. There now, sit down.” - -“I don’t know that I care to,” Grey replied, the words of the other -still rankling. “I’m not used to being called a blackguard. I’ve never -in my life done anything to be seriously ashamed of, and nobody has -ever dared, until this day, to utter such an insinuation.” - -Frothingham was silent for a moment, the mere suggestion of a smile on -his lips. He calmly unbuttoned one of his gloves and then buttoned it -again. - -“God forbid,” he said, without looking up, “that I should be the first -to imply anything; but--I wish you would sit down, Grey!--you say -you’ve lost count for five months, and--well, there are some things -that you ought to know.” - -Grey resumed his seat. Now the man was talking reasonably. Of course -there were things that he ought to know--hundreds of things probably -in which he was personally interested. The thought instantly became -appalling. What, indeed, might not have happened in five months? Where -had he been during that time? And what had he been doing? - -“Yes,” he admitted, “you are quite right, I suppose. One of the things, -for instance, is----” - -“One of the things, for instance, is,” repeated the other, interrupting -him, “that you left New York suddenly--disappeared totally and--you -ought to know this for your own salvation--under a cloud.” - -Grey started, and the colour that had returned to his face fled again. -He leaned across the table, resting his arms on its marble top. - -“Under a cloud!” he exclaimed, breathlessly. “My God, Frothingham! -What do you mean?” - -“I’d rather not go into details,” was the answer, given very quietly. -“It’s not a pleasant position that I have chosen for myself, and I -prefer that you don’t question me. What you have told me--and I’m -satisfied now it is the truth--has put another light on the whole -business. And you really cabled to New York?” - -“Not half an hour ago. I sent three.” - -“It’s too late, I suppose, to stop them.” - -“I fancy so.” - -“I’d see, if I were you. It is important.” - -“But why? For God’s sake, man, tell me why.” - -“No,” said Frothingham, rising; “you’d better read about it for -yourself. It will be more satisfactory. You can find a file of the New -York _Herald_ at the office of the Paris paper. It’s only a block or so -away, you know. Look up last January. But I’d try to stop those cables -first. I must be off now; I’ve got an appointment.” And he joined the -now much augmented throng on the promenade. - -Grey dropped a five-franc piece on the table, and hurried into a -_fiacre_ that stood in waiting. - -“Rue Taitbout, 46,” he directed. - -But when he reached there it was to learn that his messages had been -dispatched and that no power on earth could recall them. - - - - -II - - -Consumed with eager concern, Grey had himself driven to the office of -the _Herald_. He was perturbed, distraught, and nervously apprehensive. - -“Under a cloud,” he repeated, thoughtfully; “under a cloud. That may -mean anything--murder, arson, theft, elopement. I’m a fugitive from -justice, I suppose. That much Frothingham made very clear when he urged -my stopping those cables.” And then his mood changed, and he argued -that he was unnecessarily agitated. It could not be so bad. In his -senses or out of them he would never, he felt sure, have committed a -crime--some indiscretion, possibly, but not a crime. - -When at length the file of the newspaper was before him and he was -turning the pages, he noted that his fingers were unsteady and that -perspiration was oozing from every pore. Carefully he scanned each -headline, running down column after column with keen scrutiny. Ten -minutes passed and he had reached nearly the middle of the month -without finding so much as a line of what he sought. Much of the -matter, however, was familiar, from which he argued that the date of -revelation must be farther on. Each leaf of the book of days he turned -now with dread expectation. He had been standing, the file on a table -at arm’s length, but suddenly he sat down, stunned by the message of -the types that faced him: - - “CAREY GREY AN EMBEZZLER--WELL-KNOWN WALL STREET BROKER - HYPOTHECATES FIRM’S SECURITIES AND DISAPPEARS--UPWARDS OF A - HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS GONE.” - -His heart was pounding very hard and his head was bursting. - -“It’s a lie,” he muttered, inaudibly, “an outrageous, despicable lie. -It’s impossible. It’s preposterous. Embezzle from my own firm? It’s -ridiculous.” - -He leaned forward and pulled the file of papers down until one end -rested in his lap, and then he read hastily, but with the scrupulous -heed of absolute concentration, every word of the two columns that -told with minute detail the story of his defalcation and flight. - -“Carey Grey, of the firm of Mallory & Grey, stockbrokers, with offices -in the Mills Building,” began the account, “has been missing for -a week and securities to the value of $110,000, it was discovered -yesterday, have disappeared from the firm’s safe deposit vault. Most -of the securities, including first mortgage bonds of the Chicago & -Northwestern Railroad Company, to the amount of $40,000, and Brooklyn -Rapid Transit 5s, worth $40,000 more, Grey hypothecated, personally, -with the Shoe and Leather Bank on the day prior to his flight. - -“The news of the defalcation caused a sensation in the Street and -in society as well. Carey Grey was one of the most popular members -of the Stock Exchange and his character had always been regarded as -beyond reproach. A member of an old New York family--his mother was a -Livingstone--his social position was of the best. He occupied bachelor -apartments in the Dunscombe, on Sixty-sixth street, near Madison -avenue, and his name appears on the membership lists of the Union, -Knickerbocker, and other clubs. - -“Mr. Mallory, his partner, said yesterday: ‘Mr. Grey was at his desk -last Wednesday when I reached the office, and he was there when I went -away at half-past three. There was nothing unusual in his manner. He -discussed with me several matters of business and spoke of a certain -directors’ meeting that he should attend the next day. I have not seen -or heard from him since. When he did not appear on Thursday I feared he -was ill and telephoned to his rooms, but the answer came that he was -not in. The whole business is to me inexplicable. I have known Carey -Grey from childhood, and I would have been willing to swear that there -was not a dishonest bone in his body. But the evidence against him is -simply indisputable. The loss struck us at an especially bad time, but -we shall pull through all right.’ - -“Inspector McClusky admitted that he was all at sea concerning Grey’s -whereabouts. The case was not reported to him for a week--not until the -securities were missed--and so it was quite possible the absconder had -left the country; nevertheless he was doing all in his power to locate -him. - -“At Grey’s apartments yesterday Franz Lutz, his valet, was preparing to -seek employment elsewhere. - -“‘Mr. Grey,’ he said, ‘slept here last Wednesday night. He rose about -eight o’clock Thursday morning, saying he had an urgent business -appointment at the Waldorf-Astoria at ten sharp. He went away in a cab, -and I have not seen him since.’ - -“Grey’s mother, who lives with her sister, Mrs. Hermann Valkenburgh, -in Washington Square, North, has been prostrated by the revelations of -the past twenty-four hours, and is under the care of her physician, Dr. -Elbridge Bond. - -“A rumour that Grey was engaged to be married to Miss Hope Van Tuyl, -daughter of Nicholas Van Tuyl, president of the Consolidated Mortgage -Company, was current yesterday. Miss Van Tuyl when seen last night -denied the report.” - -There was more of it, much more, all of which Grey read with deep and -astonished interest; but it was merely repetition and speculation. -When he finished the two columns he turned to the paper of the day -following, and found a column there. As Frothingham had told him, the -newspapers had kept up the sensation for weeks, and the _Herald_ was -as energetic as any. At length came a report that a man answering -his description had jumped overboard from a steamer in the Gulf of -Mexico and had been drowned before assistance could reach him. There -was nothing in his effects to give a hint as to his identity, but the -world, with one accord, apparently, had accepted the suggestion that it -was the missing Grey, and then the subject was dropped. - -He ran through the files for another month, but other matters of more -immediate interest had crowded the Grey affair out of the public -thought. - -He returned the papers to the clerk who had provided them, and went -out onto the Avenue de l’Opéra, horrified and perplexed. He was a -felon, hiding from the law. And yet never, so far as he could remember, -had he harboured a dishonest impulse. He was disguised to escape -detection, and the disguise when he had discovered it had been, and -still was, more mystifying to himself than it could possibly be to -others. Then he began to wonder what his cables would bring forth. He -would be arrested, of course, and tried, and in all probability found -guilty. The evidence against him as set forth in the newspaper account -was not merely strong--it was irrefutable. Against the testimony of -Mallory and of the bank officials what could he offer in refutation? -To fancy any court or jury would put faith in his asseveration that -he was unconscious when the act was committed was to count on the -impossible. Nevertheless it was clearly his duty now to return at -once to America and do all in his power to make reparation. And then -it occurred to him that in spite of his alleged embezzlement he was, -apparently, practically without funds. If he had taken the money, as -charged, it must, of course, be somewhere, but of its location he had -not the faintest idea. That he had disposed of a hundred or even eighty -thousand dollars in five months was in the highest degree improbable. - -At the corner of the Rue de la Paix is the office of Thomas Cook & -Sons, and Grey entered and inquired as to the sailing of transatlantic -liners. The _Celtic_, he learned, was to sail the next day from -Liverpool, but he could make better time probably, the clerk told him, -by taking the _Deutschland_ from Boulogne, or the _Kaiser Wilhelm der -Grosse_ from Cherbourg, on Saturday. The tide of travel was all the -other way at this season and he would have no difficulty in securing a -stateroom, even at the last minute. - -Resuming his stroll he had very nearly reached his hotel when a young -man, pale and evidently much agitated, halted before him, and raising -his hat, deferentially, said: - -“A thousand pardons, Herr Arndt, but I beg you to make haste. Herr -Schlippenbach--he is dying.” - -He spoke in German, and Grey noted that in feature and manner he was -Teutonic. For an instant the American imagined the youth had addressed -him by mistake, but he had sufficient presence of mind to give no sign. -A second later he was reassured. - -“I went to your room, Herr Arndt, as usual at four-thirty, but you were -gone out, and the _portier_ told me you left no message.” - -Grey hesitated over a reply. He realized that he was on the verge of a -discovery. It was very evident now that he was not alone in Paris--that -he had acquaintances, at least; probably companions; and that one of -them was dying. In order to learn more he must give no indication of -the change that had been wrought in him in the last few hours. - -“Dying!” he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise; “I had no idea it was so -serious.” - -His German was excellent. In his early youth he had spent two years at -Göttingen, and had lived for one winter with a German family in Vienna. - -“Yes,” went on the young man, excitedly, “the Herr Doctor says it is -a matter now of hours only, perhaps minutes. They have sent for a -priest. Herr Schlippenbach--poor old Herr Schlippenbach--he is quite -unconscious.” - -“He can recognise no one?” - -“No, Herr Arndt, he just lies staring at the ceiling, and breathing -very hard and loud. Oh, it is so pitiful! And the Fräulein, she is -sobbing, sobbing, sobbing all the time.” - -_Herr Arndt._ So that is the name he is known by here in Paris, at -the Hôtel Grammont, by those he has met--those he has travelled with, -perhaps! And there is a Fräulein in the party! Herr Schlippenbach’s -daughter, probably. A hundred questions crowded for utterance, but he -held them back. - -“It was the Fräulein who sent for the priest, I suppose?” he ventured. - -“Yes, Herr Arndt; she and Herr Captain Lindenwald. When Herr -Schlippenbach dies Fräulein von Altdorf will have a great fortune; yes?” - -“Surely,” Grey hazarded. Then the girl was not the old German’s -daughter, after all, though she was to inherit his property. The affair -was growing a trifle complicated. - -“And Herr Captain Lindenwald--will he, do you think, Herr Arndt, marry -the Fräulein?” - -Grey was silent. If this fellow was a servant he was evidently -forgetting his place, and it was well to remind him of it. - -“How odd it is I never can remember your name!” he said, at length, -ignoring the question and scowling a little. - -“Johann, Herr Arndt.” - -“Yes, yes, to be sure. How stupid!” - -And then they turned in at the broad marble entrance of the hotel. - - - - -III - - -The room into which Johann conducted Grey was on the second floor, its -windows overlooking the court. With the glare of the boulevards still -in their eyes, the gloom of the darkened chamber was for a moment -almost impenetrable. Grey was conscious of the presence of several -persons, but they appeared more like shadows than realities, their -outlines alone distinguishable. The room was very quiet, save for the -sound of the laboured breathing which Johann had mentioned, and which -came from a bed in an alcove to the left of the entrance. Grey stood -hesitant just inside the doorway, while his vision grew accustomed to -the semi-darkness; and Johann, hat in hand, stood behind him. - -Presently from out of the dusk a figure approached, tiptoeing across -the floor. - -“He is dying!” - -The words were whispered in German. The speaker, Grey observed, was of -medium height, but broad of shoulder and of erect military bearing. The -ends of his moustache were trained upward after the fashion affected by -the German Emperor. - -Grey nodded his head in token that he understood. - -“Dr. Zagaie is here. He has just administered nitro-glycerine and -tincture of aconite. We are hoping that he may regain consciousness.” - -Objects were now becoming more clearly defined. Grey could see the bed -now, though its occupant was hidden by the bulky form of the physician, -who had his fingers on the dying man’s pulse, and by the black-clad, -slender figure of a woman who was pressing a handkerchief to her eyes. -At the foot of the bed stood a white-capped and white-cuffed nurse. - -“Let us hope,” Grey responded. - -The situation was most trying. He was with those who, it was apparent, -knew him extremely well, and yet were to him utter strangers. He was -almost afraid to speak lest he betray himself, and if the necessity -for learning something concerning his associates and associations had -not been so urgently important he would have retreated without waiting -further developments. He was nervously a-tremble, his fingers were -twitching involuntarily and alternately waves of hot and cold bathed -him from head to heel. The atmosphere of the room stifled him; the -stertorous breathing of the invalid oppressed him, the gloom and the -whispers and the soft tread of the persons present drove him frantic. -He was seized with an almost uncontrollable impulse to shout, to rush -about, to pull back the curtains and let in some daylight. He gripped -his hat until the brim cracked in his hand, the sound cutting the -silence discordantly. - -“Sit down, Herr Arndt. We are expecting the Reverend Father. I sent -Lutz for him half an hour ago.” - -_Lutz!_ Had the dusk been less deep the surprise that came over Grey’s -features must have been observed. Lutz! Could it be possible that his -valet was here in Paris with him, he asked himself. And instantly he -negatived the answer. Such a supposition was beyond reason. He had -misunderstood, or it was another Lutz. The name was not uncommon. - -He placed his hat on a table and took a chair near a window, from which -he could look into the court below. The man who had addressed him -joined the group at the bedside. Johann quietly opened the door and -went out, closing it as quietly behind him. The silence became painful. -The inhalations and exhalations of the patient grew less strident. The -sobs of the Fraülein, which had at intervals punctured the stillness, -were suppressed. - -Then, of a sudden, there was a commotion about the bed. The dying man, -who for hours had been gazing fixedly at the ceiling, turned his eyes -upon his watchers and moved his head feebly. The doctor beckoned the -nurse. - -“Raise his head and shoulders a trifle. Quick, another pillow!” - -Promptly and deftly the nurse obeyed. - -“The stimulants are acting,” murmured the Herr Captain to the Fraülein: -“he has responded, but it will be but temporary.” - -She wiped her eyes with her wet handkerchief, but said nothing. The -invalid’s gaze passed each of the four in turn. Then his lips moved, -and the doctor, bending down, placed his ear close to his mouth. - -“Monsieur Arndt,” the physician said, in a low tone, as he straightened -himself, “it is Monsieur Arndt that he wants.” - -The other three turned towards Grey. Captain Lindenwald raised his hand -with a beckoning gesture. - -“He wants you,” he whispered; and as the American approached the bed -they made way for him. It was a face very thin and drawn that met -Grey’s view. Very sallow, too, and parchment-like; the nose long -and peaked, and the under lip, where it showed above the snow-white -beard, darkly purple. A great shock of hair vied with the pillows in -whiteness. In the tired eyes was a look of recognition. - -“Lean over,” said Dr. Zagaie; “he wishes to speak to you. His voice is -very weak.” - -A sensation of repulsion had swept over Grey at sight of the old man, -and now, to bring his face close to that of the invalid upon whom death -had already set its mark was sickeningly repugnant. But with an effort -of will he bent his head. A withered, wrinkled hand gripped his wrist -and for the hundredth part of a second he recoiled. The voice that -breathed into his ear was little more than a sigh, and he strained to -gather the words. - -“Take it,” he heard; “it is yours. The key----” - -And then the utterances sank so low as to be unintelligible. That -the old man had spoken in English was a circumstance over which Grey -marvelled quite as much as he did over the ambiguous command. He stood -erect again and would have stepped back, but the grip of the sufferer -was still upon his arm. Then, from the glazing eyes came an appeal that -was unmistakable, and again Grey bent his ear. - -“The throne,” breathed the voice feebly; “it is yours. Take it!” This -much the listener heard quite clearly, mentally commenting that the -speaker was delirious. But from the sentences that followed he could -only glean a word here and there. “Key” was mentioned again, and -“box,” and he thought he heard “proofs,” and something that sounded -like “Gare du Nord.” - -At length the fingers on his wrist relaxed and the eyes of Herr -Schlippenbach closed. Instantly and with professional celerity Dr. -Zagaie plunged the needle of a hypodermic syringe into the fainting -man’s arm. Simultaneously there was a gentle tap on the door, and -without waiting to be bidden a florid-faced priest entered, carrying a -small black leather case. - -Grey resumed his place by the window, his brain teeming with problems -so enigmatical as to defy even theoretical solution. The dying man was -delirious, of course, he argued; therefore his words were unworthy of -consideration. And yet, he answered himself, he had made a supreme -effort to convey a message and he had chosen to phrase it in not -his own tongue but his listener’s, to make sure that it would be -understood. He felt like a man in a maze. At every turn there was some -new surprise; and he was going on and on, getting farther and farther -into the tangle, without as yet seeing any chance of extricating -himself. - -Meanwhile, unnoticed by him, preparations for the Sacrament of Extreme -Unction were being hurriedly made. The priest had donned his alb and -stole and poured from a cruet the holy oil. The next minute the voice -of the cleric, clear and distinct, cleaving the hush of the room, -startled Grey from his meditation. The droning of the Latin ritual, -solemn and awesome, struck a new chord in his emotional being. He got -to his feet and stood with clasped hands and bowed head. Now the priest -was anointing the dying man’s eyes. With oily thumb he made the sign of -the cross and recited the words: “Through this holy unction, and His -most blessed mercy, may the Lord pardon thee whatever sins thou hast -committed by thy sight, Amen.” And then his ears, his nose, his mouth, -his hands, his feet were each in turn anointed with the same form of -supplication. - -The ceremony concluded, Dr. Zagaie again stepped forward, taking the -place vacated by the priest. As he did so Herr Schlippenbach, who -had been breathing softly, peacefully, with closed lids, opened his -eyes wide with a look of sudden horror. There was a quick, convulsive -movement that stirred the coverlet, a long deep-drawn sigh, and the -aged man lay motionless. - -Fraülein von Altdorf turned away, grief-stricken and horrified, from -the spectacle of death, and Grey for the first time saw her face. It -was more than pretty, he thought, with its big, sad blue eyes and its -full, red-lipped mouth all a-quiver with emotion. And her hair, which -shone even in the dusk of that darkened apartment with a lustre of its -own imparting, was very abundant and very beautiful. He realised that -she was coming towards him and he took a step forward to meet her. She -raised her arms and stretched out her hands gropingly until they rested -on his shoulders, and instinctively he knew that she had grown suddenly -faint. He clasped her swaying figure about the waist and supported her -to a couch. - -“Dr. Zagaie,” he called, impatiently, “Mlle. von Altdorf requires a -restorative.” - -Captain Lindenwald, who had been speaking to the nurse, turned -solicitously at the words. - -“My dear,” he cried, kneeling beside the prostrate girl, “my dear, let -me get you some wine; the strain has been too much for you.” - -But the Fräulein motioned him away. - -“I shall be quite myself presently,” she said. - -Nevertheless Dr. Zagaie insisted on her taking a sedative. - -After a little Grey withdrew, and not without some difficulty found -his apartment, which was on the same floor, but in another part of the -hotel. In his absence his room had been put in order, and there now lay -upon the table a blue envelope, addressed in a distinctly English hand -to “M. Max Arndt.” Though it was undoubtedly meant for him it was with -rather a sense of impropriety that he took it up and tore off the end. -Revelation after revelation had followed one another so rapidly that -afternoon that he was growing callous to discovery, and when he read-- - - MY DEAR MAX: - - I shall be unable to dine with you tonight as I promised, but - will meet you later in the Café Américain if you can arrange - it--say between eleven and midnight. JACK. - ---it was with scarcely a tremour of surprise. Indeed there was -something in the tone of the scrawl--something, perhaps, in the -penmanship, that gave him a sense of reassurance. The dying Herr -Schlippenbach had affected him oddly. Nearness to him had produced -a sort of emotional nausea, and for some reason which he could not -explain he had experienced a violent antipathy to Captain Lindenwald. -He realized that, surrounding the little company of which he had so -strangely found himself one, there was a mystery which baffled his -understanding. Then the last words of the old German recurred to him, -and again he pondered as to whether they bore any significance or were -merely the murmurings of dementia. As the clock on the mantel-shelf -chimed seven, a knock sounded on the door, and in answer to his -“Entrez!” Johann entered. - -“Will Herr Arndt dress for dinner?” he asked. “Herr Captain Lindenwald -is not dressing, and thought perhaps Herr Arndt would dine with him in -the _salle à manger_. Fräulein von Altdorf is indisposed, and is having -some tea and toast in her room. - -“No, Johann,” Grey replied, after a moment’s consideration, “I won’t -dress. Give my compliments to the Herr Captain, and say that I’m -feeling a bit seedy and will dine here alone, if he will be so good as -to excuse me.” - -Johann bowed and was about to go, but stopped with his hand on the -doorknob. - -“Will Herr Arndt order his dinner now?” he queried; and Grey named the -dishes. - -His appetite, he all at once discovered, was excellent, and when the -table had been spread and the courses followed one another in leisurely -succession and with admirable service, he found himself eating with -the relish that betokens good digestion. It seemed, too, when he had -finished and lighted a cigarette that he could think more calmly and -coherently. The windows of his room opened upon a narrow balcony, and -placing a chair he stepped out and sat there meditative above the -changeful tide of the boulevard which flowed unceasingly below. - -He was no longer exercised over the possible effect of his cables, for -he reflected that Carey Grey, so far as all Paris save one man knew, -was still dead. A message or a messenger to the Hôtel Grammont would -find no such person. His changed appearance, his changed name, and his -changed associates were a disguise that must prove quite impenetrable. -He would therefore have ample time, unhampered by either enemies or -friends, to delve into the perplexing riddle that confronted him. -It would be policy, he argued, to delay his return to America until -he could trace his movements abroad. The difficulties that he must -encounter he did not pretend to belittle. When he strove to lay out a -plan of action he was balked at the very outset. To ask questions was -to betray himself, and yet it must be a very long and tedious, not to -say perilous, procedure to attempt to drift blindly with the current -without either chart or compass to warn him of rocks and shoals. - -The twilight deepened into night, and as the stars sparkled into the -darkening canopy above the electric lights flashed into a brighter -brilliancy along the boulevard below. Grey’s cigarette had been tossed -away, and he sat listlessly watching the vari-coloured lamps of the -cabs as they passed to and fro--now a green, now a red, now a yellow. -He had moved his chair to the space of balcony between the windows to -escape an annoying draft, and from where he sat he could neither see -into his room nor be seen from it. The scratching of a match inside, -however, was plainly audible. Someone evidently was lighting his -candles. And then the sound of voices came to him, and he pricked his -ears. - -“It is indeed a catastrophe,” he heard. The speaker was Johann. The -accent was unmistakable. - -“You have no idea. It is worse, a thousand times worse than you -know----” - -Grey, with difficulty, choked back an exclamation. - -“Lutz!” he muttered to himself, in astonishment. “By all that’s good! -Lutz! Here in Paris, and with me.” - -“Yes,” the valet continued, “Herr Schlippenbach was necessary to Herr -Arndt. Without Herr Schlippenbach, Herr Arndt is another man. He is -mad, Johann, and filled with wild notions. He does not know his own -people. He fancies he is someone else. Herr Schlippenbach was his -balance wheel.” - -“So!” murmured Johann. “So!” - -“I have a great fear we shall never get him to Kürschdorf at all.” - -“But the Herr Captain?” - -“Oh, yes, the Herr Captain will do his best, I am sure,” Lutz assented; -“but it will be a mad Prince, and not a sane one, he will have on his -hands.” - -The comment that Johann made was not distinguishable. They were going -towards the door, which Grey next heard open and then close sharply, -forced by the draft from the window. - - - - -IV - - -It lacked but a few minutes of midnight when Grey entered the -smoke-clouded air of the Café Américain. The great room was crowded and -the babel of voices and the clatter of glass and china were wellnigh -deafening. He stood for a moment near the door, looking about through -half-closed lids like one near-sighted. A dark, languorous-eyed woman, -gorgeous in scarlet silk and lace, smiled and beckoned him, but he -paid no heed. He forced his way between the closely aligned tables to -the centre of the room, glancing from right to left as he proceeded. -His imagination had pictured his correspondent as a youngish, fair -man, but he realised that his imagination was not to be relied on. He -must depend on being seen and recognised, since recognition on his -part was impossible. A waiter brushed against him, spattering him with -beer from jostled glasses. A pretty brunette in a white gown and a -great rose-trimmed hat of coarse straw seized his hand and pressed it -suggestively as she passed him on her way to the door. And then, over -near the mirrored wall to the right, he saw a man standing, his arm -raised to attract attention, a smile on his honest, sun-browned face; -and he knew it was “Jack.” He was tall and spare, all muscle and sinew, -and his hair was brightly red, as also was his rather close-cropped -moustache. - -“Gad, man,” he exclaimed, as Grey came to him, “I fancied you weren’t -to be here.” - -He spoke with the pleasant brogue of the North of Ireland, and his -voice and manner were as confidence-inspiring as had been his note. - -Grey smiled, with something of embarrassment in his eyes. The very -frankness of the other man was disconcerting. It had been comparatively -easy to hide his simulation from the others, but now it was different. -This big, hearty fellow was not only all honesty himself, but he -inspired honesty--he demanded it. - -“To tell the truth,” the American replied, feeling that a confession -was about to be wrung from him, “I’ve had a rather wretched day.” - -Jack looked at him keenly, his lips pressed tight in cogitation, as -Grey ordered a _grenadine_. - -“What’s the trouble, old chap?” he asked presently, throwing back his -head and sending an inverted cone of cigarette smoke ceilingward. “Tell -me about it; you don’t look well; you are pale and--by Jove! What’s the -matter with your voice? You don’t speak like yourself. If I didn’t see -you sitting there I’d fancy it was another man who spoke.” - -“Would you, really?” Grey asked. The information, seeing that it -was necessary for him to keep up his masquerade for awhile, was -disconcerting. - -“Really, you have quite lost something--or perhaps I should say you -have gained something. Your tone now has some colour, some modulation. -Yesterday you spoke like--you’ll pardon me, won’t you?--you spoke like -an automaton.” - -“Would you mind giving me an imitation?” Grey laughed. “Oh, yes, I am -serious. I want to hear you. After awhile I’ll tell you why.” - -“Since it is your pleasure, my dear Max,” Jack replied in an even drone -at low pitch, “I am only too delighted to do as I am bidden. There you -are! That’s not exaggerated the least bit, either.” - -“Thank you,” Grey said; and then he sat for a full minute in silence. -He was impelled to make a clean breast of the whole astounding affair -to this man and ask his aid. Though he was unacquainted even with his -name he felt he could trust him. In this sudden and inexplicable faith -his aversion for Herr Schlippenbach and Captain Lindenwald found its -antithesis. He nevertheless appreciated the importance of extreme -caution, and his judgment warred for the moment with his impulse. -Finally a truce was signed. - -“Was yesterday’s tone an affectation or is today’s?” asked the Irishman -jocularly. - -Grey took a sip at the pink contents of his glass. - -“Neither,” he answered, seriously; “yesterday I was asleep; today I am -awake.” - -“Tut, tut, man! Don’t talk in riddles,” the other protested. “You were -no more asleep last night at Maxim’s than you are this minute. By the -way, did you see your friend Sarema as you came in? She was sitting -quite near the door a little while ago.” - -“Sarema?” - -“To be sure. Come, come, my lad, has your mood changed as well as your -tone and voice? You certainly remember the odalisque from the Folies -Bergères.” - -Grey’s eyes showed that his astonishment was unfeigned. - -“Oh, but this is marvellous,” cried Jack, leaning forward, his arms on -the table. “You weren’t drunk, man. You--you certainly weren’t asleep.” - -“What is your name?” Grey asked, suddenly. - -“Fancy!” exclaimed the Irishman. “Have you forgotten that, too? John -James O’Hara, lieutenant in His Majesty’s Second Dragoon Guards, of -Kirwan Lodge, Drumsna, County Leitrim, at your service, sir. And you’ll -be telling me next, I suppose, that you don’t remember meeting me in -the smoke-room of the _Lucania_ the first day out of New York, and that -over two months ago. - -“As God is my judge,” Grey answered, solemnly, “I have no recollection -of ever seeing you before tonight.” - -O’Hara’s muscles stiffened and then relaxed. There was no incredulity -in his face, only wonder. - -“And have you forgotten your own name, too?” he queried, after a moment. - -“I never knew the name I am called by until today.” - -“Gad, man, you’re crazy,” the Irishman commented, lighting a fresh -cigarette. “You’ve got me all of a tangle. I’m damned if you’re not -uncanny. And your name is not Max Arndt at all, then?” - -“No.” - -“And Herr Schlippenbach. He is not your uncle?” - -“God forbid!” - -“And the Fräulein von Altdorf is not your sister’s daughter, I suppose?” - -“I never had a sister.” - -The dragoon guard threw up his hands. - -“Then, if it’s all the same to you,” he continued, “and not revealing -any State secrets, would you be so good as to tell me who you are? -Introduce yourself to me. For it seems that though we’ve been together -the better part of two months we’re still strangers.” - -Grey made a rapid but careful survey of his neighbours. Under the -circumstances it might not be well to speak his own name where it could -be overheard. He took another drink of his _grenadine_ before replying. - -“After all,” he said, “this is hardly the place for confidences. What -do you say to walking over to my hotel? We can have privacy there.” - -And Lieutenant O’Hara readily consented. - -At the door of the Hôtel Grammont a courier was in excited dispute with -the _portier_. - -“But he will be here tomorrow, perhaps. Is it not so?” - -“I cannot say. There is no Monsieur Grey here now, of a certainty.” - -“You are sure? You are most sure?” - -“Is it not that I have said it twenty--thirty--a hundred times?” -insisted the _portier_. “And you are not the only one who has asked. -There have been three others here, including an agent of police. Ah, -Monsieur Grey! He had better stay away, perhaps.” - -When at length the room of the American was reached and the door locked -on the inside, Grey turned to his friend. - -“Did you overhear the conversation below?” he asked. - -“I caught snatches of it. A wire for someone, wasn’t it?” - -“Yes; for me.” - -“For you?” O’Hara stared. “Then why in God’s name didn’t you take it?” - -“I couldn’t afford to, and yet I’d give a good deal to know its -message.” - -“But it was for a person named Grey, I thought. You are Grey, then?” - -“Yes.” - -“And the police officer! He was looking for--you?” - -“For me,” Grey confessed. “Now you can understand why I didn’t care to -talk in the café.” - -O’Hara dropped into a chair. - -“This is very interesting,” he said, and his blue eyes twinkled. - -Grey, his hands in his trousers’ pockets, was standing before the -chimney-piece. His expression was very grave. - -“I suppose,” he began, “that you think me rather a blackguard. -Appearances so far are against me, aren’t they? By my own admission -I’m here under an assumed name trying to evade the minions of the law, -who are hot-foot on my trail. Everything you thought you knew about -me I have informed you is false. Therefore you are not likely to be -predisposed in my favour. Consequently the story I’m going to tell -you now you’ll probably not believe. I’m free to admit that if the -situation were reversed I wouldn’t believe you; and yet--I--well, I -wouldn’t have taken you into my confidence if it were not that I’m sure -you’re a gentleman--an honest, high-principled, Irish gentleman who -loves right and is willing to fight for it.” - -O’Hara smiled encouragingly. - -“Drive ahead, my boy,” he urged; “the jury is absolutely unprejudiced.” - -Then Grey plunged into a detailed narrative of that surprising day. He -told of his strange awakening and parenthetically gave his hearer an -idea of his position at home and a glimpse of his previous life. He -rehearsed his conversation with Frothingham; he repeated word for word -the cables he had sent to New York; he summarized the articles he had -read in the _Herald_; he described the passing of Herr Schlippenbach -and recited his death-bed communication, and finally he gave, as nearly -as he could remember it, the conversation between Lutz and Johann. - -O’Hara listened with rapt interest, interrupting him now and then with -a question, at times smiling understandingly and at others scowling at -what he regarded as evidence of importance against the little group by -which Grey was surrounded. At the conclusion of the recital he sprang -up and impulsively grasped the American’s hand. - -“You’ll come out on top yet, boy,” he cried, “and it’s John James -O’Hara that’ll help to put you there. I’ve heard of such cases as this -before. They’ve been drugging you, lad, that’s as plain as the nose on -my face, and your dear uncle, Herr Schlippenbach, do you mind, has been -the chief drugger. It was because he was too ill to do his work that -the effects wore off. Now that he’s gone they’re worried to death over -you. Sure, you’re not so blind that you can’t see that yourself.” - -“But I don’t understand----” - -“Of course you don’t. Neither do I. There’s a lot we have got to find -out. But two heads are better than one; and you just put a big bundle -of trust in mine.” - -He was excited and his brogue, Grey thought, was delightful. - -“What do you suggest?” - -“In the first place it is probably best that I tell you what little I -know. Your memory, up until this afternoon, is a blank. Well, then, -I’ll give you the benefit of mine.” - -O’Hara lighted another cigarette and, taking a deep inhalation, started -pacing the floor, his head bent thoughtfully forward. - -“As I said,” he began, “we met in the smoke-room of the _Lucania_ -on the afternoon of Saturday, the seventh of April. You told me -your name was Max Arndt, that you were born in Kürschdorf, the -capital of Budavia, where your uncle, Herr Schlippenbach, whom you -accompanied, had at one time been tutor in the royal family. You had -spent your life, however, in the United States, had been engaged in -the importation of German wines, I think you said, in New York, and -were now on your way back to your native town, where, by the death of -a relation, you had recently come into large estates. The man Lutz was -with you, but he appeared to be old Schlippenbach’s valet rather than -yours. On reaching Liverpool you were met by Captain Lindenwald, who -is of the royal household of the Kingdom of Budavia, and by the fellow -Johann. After about a week in London your party was joined by Miss von -Altdorf, who had been at school somewhere in Kent. You told me she -was your sister’s child, an orphan, and that your uncle and yourself -supported her.” - -“Great God!” exclaimed Grey, amazedly, “and did I seem sane--rational?” - -“Perfectly,” O’Hara answered; “you were the character to the smallest -detail. Your voice was the only peculiar thing about you. You spoke -like a deaf man, with practically no inflection.” - -“Did you talk to Schlippenbach?” - -“Oh, yes; frequently. He was really very clever. He had a wonderful -fund of general knowledge. There was scarcely a subject with which he -was not familiar. But his specialty was phrenology. He told me that -in his youth he had known Dr. Spurzheim, the pupil of Dr. Franz Gall, -the founder of the science, that he had studied under him and gone -very deeply into the matter. He was a chemist, too, and from something -he let drop one day I got the impression that he had experimented -considerably with anæsthetics, narcotics, and that sort of thing.” - -“And to some purpose, apparently,” put in Grey. “But his object, -O’Hara? What in heaven’s name could have been his object? I never knew -him--never saw him to my recollection until he was dying.” - -“Ah, lad, we haven’t got that far yet, but we’ll know before we’re -through.” - -And then he went on with his story. He was with the quartet a great -deal in London, he said. He showed them about, and they were all very -appreciative. They stopped there until the middle of May and then they -moved on to Paris. Without any intention of prying into their affairs -he had observed that Herr Schlippenbach and Captain Lindenwald had a -good deal of correspondence with parties in Kürschdorf. - -“And what was my attitude towards them all?” Grey inquired. “Was I very -sociable or was I reserved?” - -“You were rather dignified,” O’Hara answered; “and now I come to think -of it, they treated you with considerable deference, though they -endeavoured to dissemble it whenever I was about. Miss von Altdorf -seemed quite fond of you, old chap, and it was amusing to note how -Captain Lindenwald insisted on making love to her at every opportunity, -only to be gently, but firmly, repulsed. As for that young woman I -found her most charming,--and you did too, apparently. Of course, as -she was your niece, you could take her to dine tête-à-tête and to -places of amusement unchaperoned, and you did very frequently, much to -Lindenwald’s annoyance. Whatever the plot is, Grey, I feel satisfied -that she is not in it.” - -“And now what do you advise?” - -“For the present at least to give no sign that you suspect anything. -You are well enough posted now, my boy, to go straight ahead. Give them -enough rope and they’ll hang themselves as sure as your name’s Grey -and mine’s O’Hara. Assume the tone I told you of, and they’ll never -suspect. They may be surprised, but they’ll be happy and they’ll be -unwary. Never take the initiative yourself. Leave it all to Lindenwald.” - -“But what will they make out of it?” Grey urged, curiously. “Surely you -have formed some theory?” - -“Yes, I have a theory,” O’Hara responded, “but it is probably just as -well for me to keep it to myself for a while.” - -“What do you think this talk about ‘thrones’ and ‘mad princes’ means?” - -“That is for us to find out. And unless I am more of a fool than I -think, it will very shortly develop. In the meantime you are anxious -about the answers to your cables, aren’t you? Since they are addressed -to Grey, you can’t accept them, that’s clear. But you shall know what -is in them just the same. I’ll undertake that for you.” - -“But----” - -“Never mind, lad; leave it to me.” - -“And the box with proofs that Schlippenbach spoke of? That is -important.” - -“To be sure. It is at the Gare du Nord in his name or yours, eh? I’ll -get it for you. But the key?” - -Suddenly Grey remembered. - -“There is a key in a wallet I found. Possibly that is it.” - -“Possibly.” - -And the thought of the wallet reminded him that a fifty-franc note and -some change was all the money he had in his possession. - -“I’m a little short of funds,” he said. “Do you happen to know how or -where I have been in the habit of getting money when I needed it?” - -O’Hara laughed. - -“The whole thing is so absurd,” he explained, “as well as serious. -Fancy your not knowing what you have done every few days since you -landed! Johann has your letter of credit and gets you whatever you -desire. All that is necessary is for you to sign your name.” - -When O’Hara had gone Grey sat for a long time brooding over his -extraordinary experience. His head was still aching, throbbingly, -and his nerves were still a-tingle. Whatever treatment he had been -subjected to its effects had not yet been entirely eliminated. He -undressed, got into his pyjamas and went to bed; but sleep was coy -and not to be won by wooing. He heard the clock strike two and three -and four, and he saw the first gray sign of dawn between his curtains -before he fell into a restless, troubled, unrefreshing slumber. - - - - -V - - -Mr. Herbert Frothingham had that evening been one of a dinner party of -six at Armenonville. He had sat between Miss Hope Van Tuyl and Lady -Constance Vincent, and across a plateau of primrose-coloured orchids -the charming Mrs. Dickie Venable had at intervals favoured him with -fleeting smiles. Nicholas Van Tuyl, sleek and ruddy, was at the left -of Lady Constance, who had for her vis-à-vis Sinclair Edson, a tall, -young, sallow-faced secretary from the United States Embassy. - -“I hope you haven’t failed to observe the notabilities,” this -latter-named gentleman was saying as he daintily dissected his _carpe -au buerre noir_; “there are quite a number here this evening.” His pose -as mentor was apt to grow annoying at times, but the Van Tuyls had been -in Paris only two days, and father and daughter were alike interested. - -“Oh, do show me that East Indian prince or whatever he is,” cried Hope -enthusiastically, her great dark eyes brilliant; “I’ve heard so much of -him. Is he here?” - -“The Maharajah of Kahlapore? Yes, he must be here, surely. I never come -nowadays but he is.” - -He turned his head and craned his neck in an effort to locate the Hindu -potentate. The piazza of the pavilion was, as usual, crowded. Every -table was occupied--and the throng was the acme of cosmopolitanism. -Five continents were represented. It was indeed a veritable congress -of nations. Monarchs, kings dethroned, and pretenders rubbed elbows. -Women of the world and of the half-world brushed skirts. Dazzling -toilets of delicate tints were silhouetted against coats of lustreless -black. Diamonds blazed; pearls reflected the myriad lights; gems of all -colours, shapes, and sizes glistened in the foreground and sparkled in -remote corners. - -“Ah, there he is,” Edson discovered, speaking without turning his face; -“there, off to the right. You can just see his white turban over the -head of that Titian-haired woman in the blue gown.” - -The whole party stared, stretching, twisting to get a glimpse. - -“Rather insignificant, isn’t he?” observed Mrs. Dickie disparagingly. - -“His turban accentuates his _café au lait_ complexion,” laughed Hope. - -“But you should see him at finger-bowl time,” suggested Lady Constance, -who had lunched next to him and his suite that day at Paillard’s. “He -is most original.” - -“Oh, tell us,” cried Hope pleadingly; “what does he do?” - -“It must be seen to be appreciated,” the Englishwoman replied. She was -auburn-haired, generously proportioned, and rather stolid. Her tone was -even more of a refusal than her words. - -“I’ll tell you,” volunteered Edson glibly. “He has a special bowl twice -the ordinary size and he plunges his whole face in it.” - -“Horrors!” shrieked Mrs. Dickie; “he should be arrested for attempted -suicide.” - -“But he isn’t the most interesting personage here by any means,” Edson -pursued, now thoroughly launched in the exercise of his _métier_; -“have you noticed the sallow-faced, heavy-browed and long-moustached -gentleman just three tables away, dining with the dark-bearded -president of the Chamber of Deputies?” - -“The man with that enormous, gorgeously jewelled star on his breast?” -asked Miss Van Tuyl, leaning back and gazing over Frothingham’s -shoulder. “Oh, what a brutal face he has!” - -“It is the Shah of Persia,” announced Edson; and then he glanced about -to revel in the effect of his revelation. - -“He’s a beast,” commented Lady Constance, disgustedly, “though I -believe his manners have improved somewhat since he was here last. -Do you know when he was in Berlin some years ago he sat next to the -Empress Augusta at a State banquet, and whenever he got anything in his -mouth that was not to his taste, he just calmly removed it!” - -“They say he thought nothing of putting his hands on the bare shoulders -of the women he met,” Edson added. - -“I saw the King of the Belgians as we came in,” said Mr. Van Tuyl, -presently, as a waiter passed the _filet aux truffes_; “one sees him -everywhere, eh?” - -“Oh, yes,” Edson hastened to observe; “he’s as omnipresent as the poor. -But did you see the woman with him? She’s the very latest, you know. -Was a _Quartier Latin_ model six months ago and is now regarded as the -most beautiful woman in Paris. _La Minette Blanche_, they call her. She -has a palace on the Boulevard Malesherbes and as many retainers as a -princess.” - -“The old scoundrel!” exclaimed Mrs. Dickie, vindictively; “I don’t know -which is worse, the Shah or he. He gained a reputation as a wife-beater -or something, didn’t he? At all events I’ll bet the devil is keeping a -griddle hot for him down below, and it’s pretty near time he occupied -it.” - -“How terribly spiteful!” laughed Frothingham; “His Majesty isn’t a bad -sort at all; a little fickle, perhaps, but with his love of beauty and -his opportunities you can hardly expect domesticity. And he’s done a -lot of good in his way.” - -“Speaking of royalty, that is rather an odd condition of affairs in -Budavia, by the way,” suggested Nicholas Van Tuyl. “Did you see the -paper this morning? The King is very ill. Can’t live a fortnight; and -there is a question as to the succession. It seems that the Crown -Prince was kidnapped when he was five years old and nothing has ever -been heard of him. They don’t know whether he is alive or dead.” - -“Oh, how interesting!” exclaimed Mrs. Dickie, putting down her fork to -listen. “And to whom does the crown go?” - -“To King Frederic’s nephew, Prince Hugo; as thorough a reprobate, they -say, as there is in all Europe.” - -“Wouldn’t it be funny if the Crown Prince should turn up at this -juncture?” suggested Edson; and there was something significant in his -tone. - -“Has such a possibility been hinted at?” asked Van Tuyl. - -“Well--” and Edson hesitated the briefest moment, “one can never tell.” -Whether intentionally or not, he gave the impression that he knew more -than he cared to divulge. “I had a call today from an officer of the -Budavian army. He is a member of the royal household.” He said this -with an air, and Frothingham muttered, “Snob!” under his breath. - -“I suppose he spoke of the situation, eh?” asked Van Tuyl. - -“Yes, of course, he referred to it. I met him last year in Vienna. His -call was purely social.” - -“Is he to be in Paris long?” asked Mrs. Dickie, quickly. “Bring him to -tea next Tuesday.” - -But Edson evaded a promise. He was listening to Frothingham, who was -saying: - -“You can never tell when or where or under what circumstances a lost -man will reappear. After today I shall make it a rule not to believe a -man is dead unless I have seen him buried.” - -“Why, whom on earth have you seen?” questioned Miss Van Tuyl. There was -just the slightest suspicion of a tremour in her voice, and her eyes -were apprehensive. The speaker, however, detected neither. He had, in -fact, quite forgotten, if he had ever heard, that there had been an -attachment between the man he had that day met on the _terrasse_ of -the Café de la Paix and the woman who sat at his side. - -“Carey Grey, the absconder!” - -The words struck her as a blow from a clenched fist. Her cheeks, which -had been a trifle flushed, went suddenly white as the damask napery. -Her jewelled fingers clutched the edge of the table. She felt that she -was falling backward, that everything was receding, and she caught the -table edge to save herself. - -“Carey Grey!” repeated Nicholas Van Tuyl, in amazement. “Surely you -must have been mistaken!” - -“Not a bit of it. I talked to him.” - -“The devil!” exclaimed Edson and then apologised. - -“You’d never know him,” Frothingham went on, after emptying his -champagne glass; “he has bleached his hair, and he is wearing a -bleached beard, too.” - -“Oh, horrible!” This from Mrs. Dickie. - -“Told a most remarkable story about not knowing anything for five -months; brain fever or something. I must admit he was very convincing.” - -“I wonder if that is the man I knew?” Lady Constance broke in. “He -came over with an American polo team; he was a great friend of Lord -Stanniscourt’s.” - -“Same man,” said Van Tuyl, with a glint of admiration in his tone. “He -was a capital polo player, and--yes, by Jove, a rattling good fellow in -every way. It was a surprise to everyone when he went wrong.” He had -been watching his daughter with no little anxiety. Now her colour was -returning and her hands were in her lap. - -“Yes, to everyone,” Mrs. Dickie volunteered, “the whole thing was -simply astounding. He had a good business, hadn’t he? What do you -suppose he wanted with that money?” - -“Nobody was ever able to conjecture,” answered Frothingham, as he -helped himself to some _caneton_. - -“And he is really here in Paris?” queried Edson, twirling the long stem -of a fragile wineglass between thumb and finger. “Where is he stopping?” - -Hope Van Tuyl unconsciously leaned forward to catch the address. - -“I don’t know. I never thought to inquire.” - -From the violins of the tziganes glided the languorous strains of -the “Valse Bleue,” and instantly all other sounds dwindled. Even -the clatter of knives and forks seemed gradually to cease and the -babble of tongues was vague and far away. Into the girl’s dark eyes -came an expression of melancholy, and the corners of her red-lipped -mouth drooped. The leaves of her calendar had been fluttered back -a twelvemonth by the melody, and she was out under the stars with -the cool breeze from the Hudson fanning her flushed cheeks. Through -the open French windows of the clubhouse at her back the music was -floating. Beside her, his arm girdling her waist, was the man to whom -she had just promised her love and loyalty--the man whose name she -would be proud to wear through all her days--Carey Grey. The ineffable -joy, the blissful content of the moment were, in some mystic manner, -reborn by the chords that sang and swelled and vibrated and whispered, -and yet over all, mingling with the delicious, intoxicating happiness -of this reincarnated experience, was an overpowering sense of -loss--dire, monstrous, crushing. - -“Hope, dear,”--it was her father’s voice that brought her back to the -present. His anxious eyes had still been upon her. “Drink your wine, -girl; you aren’t ill, are you? Mr. Edson has been speaking to you and I -don’t believe you’ve heard a word.” - -“Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Edson,” she ejaculated, recovering herself. -“I fear for the moment I was very far off. Would you mind repeating -what you said?” - -“I was proposing a coaching party to Versailles for Saturday, and as -everybody seemed to approve I took the opportunity to ask you if you -would do me the honour of occupying the box seat.” - -“With pleasure,” she accepted, smiling bravely, though a dull, leaden -pain was gripping her heart; “I think it will be simply lovely.” - -The sextet had come to the restaurant crowded into Mr. Edson’s big -touring car, and when at length the dinner was finished and the men had -smoked their cigars and the moon had come up from behind the trees and -floated like a silver boat in the deep blue sea of the heavens, they -took their places again and went spinning at frantic speed out into the -Allée de Longchamp. A quick turn to the left and in another instant -the Porte Dauphine had been passed and the machine was flying smoothly -down the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne with the Arc de Triomphe rising -massively white in the moonlight ahead. - -Frothingham found himself brought very close to Hope Van Tuyl by the -exigencies of the arrangement of six goodly sized persons in a space -designed for five; and he was glad that it was so. He had seen much -of her during the winter season in New York, and he had come abroad -chiefly because he knew that she and her father had planned to spend -the early summer in Europe. She was the type of woman he admired. She -was tall and athletic, fond of sports and clever at them, but not so -much of an enthusiast as to be open to the charge of having unsexed -herself. She was, indeed, intensely feminine. Though she could handle a -coach and four as dexterously as the average masculine whip and could -drive a golf ball well on to two hundred yards, her hands were as -delicately white and her fingers as long and taper as those of a girl -whose most strenuous exertion was the execution of a Chopin nocturne. -Her hair was dark, almost black, with glinting bronze reflections in -the sunlight. Her eyes were the brown of chestnuts and her eyebrows -black and perfectly arched. Frothingham had dreamed night after night -of her mouth--it was so red and so tenderly curved, and her lips seemed -always moist. - -He had noticed her preoccupation towards the close of the dinner, and -he had marvelled as to the cause. It was such an unusual mood for -her. Now, as they were sweeping with exhilarating speed down the long -avenue, with its double row of glittering lights that flashed by in -streaks--while all the rest were laughing, shouting, shrieking in the -exuberance of the moment--she was still abstracted, silent. - -Frothingham ventured to place a hand over one of hers, but she drew -her own away instantly, as though the contact were painful. He fancied -then that he had perhaps unwittingly offended her in some way, and he -whispered, close to her ear: - -“I hope you are not annoyed at me. Have I been guilty of any -discourtesy? I am sure I----” - -But it was very evident she was not listening, and he broke off in the -middle of the sentence. - -The Van Tuyls were stopping at the Ritz, and there Edson put them down. -Frothingham, who had taken lodgings not far away, alighted too, and -Nicholas Van Tuyl asked him in. - -“I feel like a brandy and soda,” he said, “and I want company.” - -Hope excused herself and went directly to her room. She was very -nervous and very _distraite_. The story that Carey Grey was not -only alive and in Paris, but had been ill, delirious and therefore -unaccountable, disquieted and distressed her. She had loved him more -than she knew until his crime and his flight, and, above all, his -desertion without a word of explanation, revealed to her the fulness of -her passion. Then she had battled with herself for a time; had grown -philosophic and had reasoned, and eventually had gathered together the -pages of her life that bore his name, had torn them out and, as she -believed, destroyed them utterly. And now they were here before her, -suddenly restored as a magician makes whole again the articles that he -tears into bits before his auditors’ eyes. - -As she entered her room her maid, who had been reading near a window, -arose, took up something from her dressing-table and came toward her -with it in her outstretched hand. - -“A telegram for m’amselle,” she said. She was a very pretty French -maid, and she had a very delicious French accent. She preferred to -speak in English, though Miss Van Tuyl invariably answered her in -French. “It came not ten minutes ago, m’amselle.” - -Hope walked listlessly to where an electric lamp glowed under a Dresden -shade, tearing open the envelope as she went. Unfolding the inclosure, -she held it in the light’s glare; and then the little blue sheet -dropped from her nerveless fingers, and she reeled. Had it not been for -Marcelle she might have fallen; but the girl, burning with curiosity -to learn the contents of the telegram--or cablegram, as it proved--had -followed her mistress’s every movement, and now her arm was about her -waist. - -“Oh, m’amselle, m’amselle,” she cried in alarm; “my poor m’amselle! Is -it that you hear the bad news?” - -But Miss Van Tuyl made no reply. Recovering herself, she crossed the -room and sat down in the chair by the window that Marcelle had just -vacated. The girl stood for a moment irresolute. Then she stooped and -picked up the sheet of blue paper, placing it on the table under the -lamp. As she did so her quick eye took in enough to satisfy her as to -its import. It was from Miss Van Tuyl’s brother in New York, and it -repeated a cable just received. The words made a very deep impression -on Marcelle because of one of them, of which, though it was quite as -much French as it was English, she did not know the meaning. - -“That he is here in Paris I can understand; and that he is alive and -well, oh, yes!” she iterated and reiterated to herself; “but what is it -he means by ‘_in-ex-pleek-able_’? ‘Conditions _in-ex-pleek-able_’? Oh, -I fear, I fear, that is something very terrible.” - - - - -VI - - -There came a gentle tap on Grey’s door; then a rap, louder and more -insistent; and then repeated knocking, aggressive, commanding; and -Grey, aroused suddenly from what was more stupor than sleep, sat up in -bed, startled, crying: - -“Come in! _Entrez! Herein!_” - -The door opened and Johann entered. - -“It is long after noon, Herr Arndt,” he said, bowing, “and the funeral -is arranged for three o’clock.” - -Grey rubbed his eyes and made an effort to collect his scattered senses. - -“Ah, yes,” he murmured, after a moment; “Herr Schlippenbach’s funeral.” - -“It is very wet,” Johann continued; “since six this morning it has been -raining. I have ordered Herr Arndt’s coffee. It will be here presently.” - -“And my tub?” - -“It waits, Herr Arndt.” - -While Grey, in bathrobe and slippers, was sipping his _café au lait_ -and nibbling a _brioche_, Captain Lindenwald presented himself. - -“I have arranged everything,” he announced, with an air of thorough -self-satisfaction; “for the present we will leave the remains here -in Paris. Later we can decide whether they shall be brought on to -Kürschdorf or sent back to America. I have placed all the details of -the obsequies in the hands of the _Compagnie des Pompes Funèbres_. The -temporary interment will be this afternoon at Père-la-Chaise. Will it -be the pleasure of Herr Arndt to attend?” - -Grey raised his cup to his lips and replaced it on the saucer before -replying. He wished to make sure that he could rid his tone of all -modulation. - -“Yes,” he answered, speaking with great care, “I will go.” If he was to -play the game it were better that he played every hand dealt to him. - -After a little he asked: - -“And the Fraülein von Altdorf? How is she today?” - -“Oh, much better,” returned the Herr Captain, his face beaming; “she -is more composed, more resigned. She is a wonderful young woman, Herr -Arndt; and oh, she is so beautiful!” - -“Yes, she is very lovely,” Grey acquiesced. - -But his thoughts at the moment were not of her. Lindenwald’s eulogy had -set vibrant a chord of emotion, had conjured a picture, had reproduced -a dream that seemed a reality. It was indeed difficult for him to -reconcile the remembrance of that sleep fantasy, so vivid was it in -every detail, with the knowledge that it was not a waking experience. -He had sat for hours, it seemed, beside Hope Van Tuyl, gazing into the -limpid depths of her sympathetic eyes, listening to the melody of her -clear, full-toned voice. They were in a great garden with parterres of -gay, sweet-scented flowers--roses and heliotrope and geraniums--and -smooth terraces of greensward with marble nymphs and satyrs on mossy -pedestals, and above them the kindly, protecting, leafy branches of an -old oak. He had, he thought, just found again the girl he loved--found -her after a long, long separation, and now she was close within his -hungry arms and her lips were always very near his own. He was telling -her some fantastic tale, like a bit culled from the Arthurian legends, -of how he was a great king, and had only been away to claim his own, -and now she was to be his queen and sit beside him on the throne in -robes of purple and ermine and help him rule his people with justice -and mercy. - -Yet here he was sitting in a Paris hotel bedchamber, with a man who -was almost a stranger, while the rain was pelting on the window-panes -and the room was so gloomy that he could scarcely see the face of his -visitor. The recollection of the dream thus contrasted filled him -with a spirit of rebellion. He was beset with an impulse to reveal -without further delay his true condition and let the culprits, whoever -they might be, escape with their object undefined and their plunder -unrestored. The craving to see and hold and talk to the woman he adored -obsessed him for the moment, and he felt that all else was trivial and -futile. - -It was in this mood still that Jack O’Hara found him an hour later. - -“I am off to America by the first steamer,” he said, joyously. “It is -all tommyrot following this thing up. I’m going back, tell everything -as far as I know, and let the police do the rest.” - -The Irishman looked at him in amazement. - -“What’s come over you, lad?” he asked, solemnly. “Have you gone off -your head or are you dreaming? Sure you’re not going to back out now -when we’ve got such a pretty little fight ahead of us, with the enemy -in ambush and afraid to show their colours?” - -“No, I’m not off my head,” Grey replied a little less gaily. He did not -like the suggested imputation of cowardice. - -“Then you are dreaming, sure.” - -“I have been.” The reply was ambiguous, but O’Hara took it that his -friend had changed his mind. - -“And you’re not now; you’re awake, wide awake, eh? And you’re going to -stop and rout ’em, horse, foot, and dragoon? That’s right, man. What -the devil put the going-home notion in your noddle? I’ll wager twenty -pounds it’s a woman you’ve been thinking of.” - -Grey stood by the window looking out on the drenched Boulevard. -O’Hara’s words were an inspiration, but the face and form of Hope were -still before him and her voice still echoed in his ears. The longing -would not easily down. - -“I’ve been looking after your blessed cablegrams,” the Irishman went -on. “There’s only one there for you. I told ’em my name was Grey and -opened it and read it. Then I gave it back to ’em, and explained it -must be for same other Grey. I told ’em my name was Charley, and that -that was addressed to Carey.” - -“Only one?” Grey exclaimed, in a tone of disappointment, turning. “I -don’t suppose Mallory will answer. What a damned blackguard he must -think me! He’s handed my cable over to the police, of course. I suppose -extradition papers are under way by this time. But the one? What was -it?” - -“Here, I wrote it down so as not to forget,” and O’Hara, after fumbling -in his breast pocket, produced an envelope on which was written: - - Overcome with joy. I never gave up hope. God bless you.--MOTHER. - -Grey turned to the window again, his eyes as wet as the panes. After a -little he asked: - -“And that was the only one?” - -“The only one.” - -Then Hope had not answered. She believed him guilty, of course. It -would have been better to have let her, like the rest of the world, -think him dead. What a trickster is the weaver of dreams! How real had -seemed his vision, and yet how untrue! And he had thought of going to -her as fast as the speediest ocean liner could take him. Oh, yes, he -was awake now; wide, wide awake. - -“I couldn’t get the box at the Gare du Nord,” O’Hara continued. “They’d -given a brass or something for it and had no record of your name or -Schlippenbach’s either. You had better ask Johann about it, or Lutz.” - -“I will,” said Grey. - -A hearse had stopped before the door, and he began now putting on his -gloves. - -“No,” he added as he buttoned the grey suèdes, “I’m not going back to -America, O’Hara. Maybe I’ll never go back. I’m going to Schlippenbach’s -funeral now, and I’m going to follow this thing to the end of the route -if it takes me through hell.” His face was very set and solemn, and he -spoke with a determination that made O’Hara’s eyes dance. - -“Bravo, lad!” he cried, enthusiastically. “I still have two months’ -leave, and I’ll go with you, hand in hand, every step of the way.” - -The drive to Père-la-Chaise was very long and very boresome. Captain -Lindenwald was not inclined to conversation and Grey dared not attempt -to lead in the direction he wished, for fear of revealing how little -he knew of what had been prearranged. He gathered, however, that it -had been planned to start for Budavia early in the following week and -that the death of Herr Schlippenbach was not to interfere with this -arrangement; but of what they were going for--of what was to follow -their arrival, he could glean no hint. - -On the return from the cemetery, however, an incident occurred which he -regarded as significant, though it only added to his perplexity. The -carriage had just crossed the Place de la République, past the great -bronze statue which adorns the square, and was rolling leisurely along -the Boulevard St. Martin, when Lindenwald suddenly drew back in the -corner in evident trepidation, catching Grey’s arm and dragging him -back with him. - -“For God’s sake!” he whispered, excitedly. “Did you see that man?” - -“What man?” Grey asked, a little annoyed. He had seen a score of men. -The day was waning; the rain had ceased and there was the usual crowd -that throngs the boulevards at the green hour. - -Lindenwald clutched him tightly for a moment, huddled away from the -window of the voiture. At this point the sidewalks are somewhat higher -than the roadway and they had both been looking up at the pedestrians, -more interested in the procession than in each other. - -“He was standing in front of the Folies Dramatiques,” Lindenwald -explained, presently; “his presence here means no good.” - -“But who?” Grey persisted. - -“It was the Baron von Einhard. You know who the Baron von Einhard is. -Ah! It is very plain. In some way, in spite of all our precautions, -Hugo has got word. We must now be more than careful. The Baron, my dear -Herr Arndt, would not hesitate one little--one very little moment to -cut your throat if he got the chance.” Lindenwald shut his teeth tight, -puckered his lips, and peered convincingly at Grey between half-lowered -lids. - -The American crushed back an exclamation of surprise. In its place he -substituted an inquiry. - -“What is the Baron like?” he asked, wondering whether he had seen him. -The question was a risk, but he ventured. - -“He is small, dark, sharp-featured. He looks more like an Italian -than a Budavian, and he is vengeful. He is, too, oh, so shrewd! Six -assassinations are at his door, and yet--positively, Herr Arndt, what I -say is true--not one of them can be brought home to him.” - -“You are quite sure it was he whom you saw?” - -“Oh, quite sure, of a certainty. I only trust he did not see us. But -his eyes are lynx-like. If he saw us you can be assured we are even -now being followed. Will it be too warm, do you think, if I lower the -shade? He is not here alone, and they are on the lookout.” - -“As you think best,” Grey replied. And Captain Lindenwald pulled down -the silk covering of the window. - -When at length they alighted at the Hôtel Grammont and entered the -courtyard the _portier_ informed the Captain that a gentleman was -waiting for him in the reading-room. He went in, with Grey, who wished -to look at a newspaper, closely following; and a tall, sallow-faced -young man, faultlessly attired, rose and came towards them. - -Grey turned aside to a table, but Lindenwald greeted the caller with no -little suavity of manner. - -“Ah, Monsieur Edson,” he said, affably, “this is indeed an honour. You -have not, I hope, been waiting long?” - -“I have a favour to ask,” the young diplomat replied, “and I shall take -only a moment of your time, Captain. I today received advices from the -State Department at Washington that there is an American stopping at -this hotel whose name is Grey, though they tell me here there is no one -of that name in the house. It seems he cabled to New York yesterday and -gave this as his address. He is wanted for embezzlement.” - -Grey overheard the words and stood motionless, tense, listening -eagerly. His eyes were bent over the table, but it was so dark in the -room that the print of the paper before him was but a grey blur. - -“And you would like me to--?” asked Lindenwald. There was no savour of -agitation in his voice, and Grey wondered how much or how little he -knew. - -“I thought perhaps you might aid me. Fortunately I have his -description. I dined in company with a man last night who has seen him. -He is tall, well set-up, and has fair hair, beard and moustache.” - -“There are many such,” replied the Captain, shrugging his shoulders. - -A servant entered with a burning wax taper, and Grey stepped aside for -him to light the gas over the table. As he did so he faced Edson, and -the illumination lit his features. - -“Ah, there,” the caller whispered, a little nervously, “standing by the -table behind you--there is a man of the very type. Perhaps that is he.” - -Captain Lindenwald turned his head. - -“Ha, ha!” he laughed, clapping his hand on Edson’s shoulder, “that is -very droll, very. Do you remember what I told you yesterday at the -Embassy?” - -Edson nodded. - -“Yes, yes, of course. But----” - -“Well, it is he.” - -“He?” - -“Yes, to be sure. In the strictest confidence, mind you. I would not -tell you were it not that I want to assure you beyond all question that -he, of all persons, cannot be suspected.” - -Grey smiled in spite of himself. - -“That man is----” - -“Sh!” warned Lindenwald his voice very low. “Yes, that man is His Royal -Highness, Prince Maximilian, heir apparent to the throne of Budavia.” - -In spite of the low tone of the speaker Grey caught the words, and the -blood went rushing to his head and set him dizzy. What monstrous lie -was this? He heir apparent to the throne of Budavia! He, a descendant -of plain Puritan ancestry, a republican of republicans, being posed -as a royal personage! It was staggering. And this was the solution to -the riddle. This was why they were going to Kürschdorf. Herr Arndt was -a name assumed. The Crown Prince was travelling incognito. It was all -too ridiculous. He had suspected some mad scheme from Schlippenbach’s -death-bed admonition and from Lutz’s overheard conversation with -Johann, but this comic opera dénouement was quite beyond anything he -had permitted himself to fancy. - -The young gentleman from the United States Embassy was evidently duly -impressed. He coloured and he apologised and he looked hard at Grey to -make sure that he would recognise Prince Maximilian should he again -chance to see him--dining at Armenonville, for instance. - -“I hope,” he added, with a faint smile, “that you will not mention my -stupid blunder to His Royal Highness. I should be mortified to have him -know.” - -“Ha, ha!” laughed Lindenwald again, “he would take it as a good joke. -Oh, yes, I must tell him. He will be so much amused.” - -Edson sidled toward the door and the Budavian officer turned to -accompany him, but stopped short, his face suddenly pallid. Standing -on the threshold, not five paces away, was the small, wiry, dark, -sharp-featured man he had noticed on the Boulevard St. Martin. - -“Good evening, Herr Captain,” said the Baron von Einhard, his eyes -twinkling. - -Captain Lindenwald saluted in military fashion, and the Baron returned -the salute as Edson brushed by him into the passage. - -“You did not, I suppose, expect to see me in Paris, eh?” the newcomer -observed. - -“You were the last man for whom I looked, Baron,” the officer rejoined. -“What is the latest news from Kürschdorf?” - -“You have not seen the evening papers, then?” - -“No.” - -“His Majesty is much worse. His condition became alarming this -morning, at nine o’clock. He cannot, the doctors say, live over -forty-eight hours.” He made the announcement with an air of pleasurable -anticipation. “I should fancy, Herr Captain, that your presence might -be required at the Palace. Or,” and there was a world of cunning -suggestion in his tone, “you have more important business here in -Paris?” - -“As you say, Herr Baron,” Lindenwald replied, visibly uncomfortable. He -was questioning whether the Baron had overheard his conversation with -Edson, and if so, how much. The man’s small eyes were like the eyes of -a snake, beady and sinister. They compelled against one’s will. - -“You remain here long?” von Einhard continued, smiling insinuatingly. - -“The length of my stay is undetermined.” - -“I trust we shall meet again,” and the Baron, still smiling, bowed, -turned on his heel and vanished. - -Grey, who had been listening, now rejoined the Captain. - -“He followed us, evidently,” he ventured. - -“He is a serpent,” Lindenwald commented, gravely, “and one to be -feared. He crawls in the grass, gives no sign and strikes with poisoned -fang where and when least expected. We must be very wary--very wary, -indeed, until we are quite sure he has left the city. Ah, and that is -not the worst--how can we ever be sure? This is a case, Herr Arndt, -where caution is more advisable than valour.” - -“And your advice is?” Grey queried. - -“My advice is never to go out unaccompanied. Already he is setting his -traps, arranging his pitfalls. You cannot conceive of his ingenuity. I -am vexed because I feel myself unequal to combat his trickery. In fair -fight I have no fear, but to fence with von Einhard is to be always in -danger of the impalpable.” - -When they had separated and Grey was alone in his room, he flung -himself into a comfortable chair, lighted a cigarette and gave himself -up to reflection. The gravity of the affair was not to be minimized, -yet he could not repress a smile as he thought of the triangular form -the matter had assumed and of the complications, ramifications and -cross-purposes that had developed. Personally his object was to detect -and bring to justice those persons who had, for some reason not yet -divulged, been using him as a cat’s-paw to attain an end of which he -was also ignorant. He had, of course, every reason to believe that in -this plot Captain Lindenwald was a prominent factor, and as such his -hand was against him. Meanwhile the machinery of international justice -had been set in motion to bring about his own apprehension, extradition -and punishment for a crime he had never contemplated and never -willingly committed. Whether to this infraction Captain Lindenwald had -been a party he had no means of knowing, but now it had turned out that -another enemy was in the field--an aggressive foe seeking his life--and -in this new battle Captain Lindenwald, strangely enough, was, it would -seem, his staunch ally. He wondered whether any man had ever before -been so harassed, so persecuted, so maligned, so humiliated through no -fault of his own; and his sense of injury waxed more galling and his -resentment more turbulently avid. He grew impatient of every hour’s -delay in the chase, restless under his enforced inaction and fretful -over the tardy revelation of past events and the development of future -plans. - -Then the thought of the box at the Gare du Nord recurred to him, and he -got up and rang for Johann. But the youth knew nothing of it. - -“Lutz, perhaps,” he said; “it is possible that Lutz knows. I will send -him to you, Herr Arndt.” - -And a little later Lutz came in. His air was timid and his manner -uneasy. His eyes were furtive and refused to meet his master’s, and his -fingers were in constant motion. - -“Ah, Lutz,” Grey greeted him composedly, taking great care to erase -all modulation from his tone, “there is somewhere, probably among poor -Herr Schlippenbach’s effects, a receipt or check for a box at a railway -station here in Paris--at the Gare du Nord, in fact. I wish you would -see if you can find it for me.” - -“Yes, Herr Arndt.” His gaze was on the carpet. - -“Immediately, Lutz.” - -“Yes, Herr Arndt.” - -“That is all.” - -When he had gone Grey began pacing the floor like a madman, his fists -clenched, his eyes blazing. - -“Was ever guilt more apparent?” he asked himself. “It is written all -over him.” - -And he wondered how he had controlled himself, how he had refrained -from catching him by the throat and strangling a confession from him -without more ado. - - - - -VII - - -Grey dined that evening across the Boulevard at the Maison Dorée, in -company with Fräulein von Altdorf and Herr Captain Lindenwald; and, as -the officer insisted that it was advisable for them to avoid as much -as possible the public eye, the trio dined in a _cabinet particulier_ -on the second floor with windows open on the street. It was not a very -gay dinner, in spite of the Herr Captain’s efforts to infuse some mirth -into it. Miss von Altdorf was apparently still grief-stricken over her -great-uncle’s sudden death, and though she strove valiantly to smile -at Lindenwald’s essays at wit and to respond with some animation to -Grey’s less jocose but cheerful observations, it was with such palpable -exertion as to rather discourage her would-be entertainers. - -Her youth was a surprise to the American. At first sight he had fancied -her three or four-and-twenty, but he was satisfied now that she could -not be more than eighteen. Her figure was distinctly girlish. - -She was all in white, from her great ostrich-plumed hat of Leghorn -straw to her tiny canvas bottines, because, young as she was, she -entertained prejudices against conventional mourning, and exercised -them. It was a question, however, whether in black or white she was -more beautiful. In the death-chamber Grey had seen her sombre-robed -and had pronounced her rarely lovely, and now in raiment immaculately -snowy she was equally alluring. Her expression was naturally pensive -and her recent sorrow had given to her big, deep-set, long-lashed blue -eyes a pathos that awoke the tenderest emotions. As the American gazed -at her across the table he experienced a thrill of sentiment that -was undeniable, and he had but to glance at Lindenwald to see in his -contemplation the same fervency of soul. - -“I should like it,” Grey said to her when the dinner was about over -and he was burning his cognac over his coffee, “if you would take a -trip with me tomorrow into the country. We will start early and have -_déjeuner_ at some inn, under the trees. It will do you a world of -good.” - -Something very like a frown gathered on Lindenwald’s brow, but it -passed before he spoke. - -“Do not forget my warning, Herr Arndt,” he interjected. “It would -perhaps be safer for me to accompany Fraülein von Altdorf.” - -“I will chance it,” Grey replied, decisively. “I feel that I, too, need -a little outing.” - -“It will be lovely, Uncle Max,” the girl responded, with more animation -than she had previously shown. “Let us go to Versailles. I have never -been, and I have read so much about it.” - -“Versailles it shall be, my dear,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, -while Lindenwald brushed his hand across his brow to hide a scowl. - -Grey’s broken, unrefreshing, dreamful slumber of the night before, -followed by a tiresome, distressing day, resulted early in the evening -in a drowsiness that he could not shake off. For a while he dozed in a -chair by an open window, but when the clock had struck eleven he arose -and prepared for bed, and in a little while he was sleeping soundly -behind his blue velvet curtains. - -The night, however, was warm and close after the rain of the day, and, -as the hours wore on, the sleeper grew restless and turned uneasily -from side to side, by-and-by waking at each turning and seeking a -cool spot between the sheets. At length sleep forsook him altogether, -and he lay quite wide awake peering into the darkness in an effort to -distinguish objects. But the night was very black and the room was -enveloped in a pall of ink, save where the reflection from the street -lamps spread patches of dim yellow light on wall and ceiling. The -stillness, too, was oppressive. The boulevard was dead, and within -doors no sound except the monotonous ticking of the clock on the -mantel-shelf was audible. - -He waited longingly for the clock to strike that he might know how many -hours must elapse before the dawn; and as he waited, his senses alert, -there broke softly on the silence the stealthy tread of feet in the -passage on the other side of the wall near which he lay. No sooner had -he heard the footsteps than they ceased, and the sound was succeeded -by a muffled, metallic clicking from the direction of his door. With -Lindenwald’s warning in mind he had turned the key in the lock before -retiring, and he recalled this now with a sense of satisfied security; -but even as he did so he was conscious of the door being pushed slowly -but creakingly ajar, and then the tread that he had heard without he -heard within. He held his breath, not in affright, for he was, he -realised, wonderfully composed, but lest he scare away the intruder -before the object of his visit was made plain. - -Another second and a figure had crossed in the dim light that came -from one of the windows. It was a rather undersized figure, Grey -thought, but its attitude was crouching, almost creeping, and he might -be deceived. Quickly a hand went to the cord loops at either side of -the casements and dropped the curtains, and now the room was devoid -of even the dim illumination from the street lamps. Then again, for a -heart-beat, there was a blade of light visible as the visitor’s arm -shot quickly between the lowered window hangings and drew cautiously -together the open sashes, first one and then the other. - -The steps now approached the bed--very slowly, haltingly, as though the -intruder stopped at each footfall to listen. Grey waited, with every -muscle tense, his nerves a-strain, wondering, speculating as to this -night prowler’s next move. For a little while his approach ceased and -the suspense grew maddening. The man had evidently halted in the centre -of the room. Then there came the faintest tinkle of glass touched to -glass, so faint that the ticking of the clock made question whether it -was not imagination; and then the stealthy stepping was resumed, but -more nearly silent than before, until the man in the bed, with heart -pounding, teeth shut tight and breath indrawn and held, knew that the -other was there beside him--leaning in over him, between the curtains, -with a hand outstretched.... - -Blindly, into the pitch dark, with all its power of nerve and muscle, -Grey’s clenched fist shot upward just as a cloth, wet with a liquid -so suffocatingly volatile as to stagger him for the instant, dropped -on his face. He heard a startled cry, half moan, half groan, and then -a crash as a body reeled backward and, losing its balance, toppled -over a chair. On his feet in a flash, Grey made haste to follow up his -advantage. His foot touched his fallen assailant and he flung his full -weight down upon him, groping wildly in the dark to find his arms and -pinion them. But the fellow wriggled like a worm--twisting agilely, -squirming from under his clutch--and his arms evaded capture. Locked in -a desperate embrace they rolled over and over, now half rising to their -knees, now thrown back again, upsetting tables and chairs, pounding -their heads stunningly on floor and wall, clutching at each other’s -hair, gripping each other’s throats--a wrestling match in which science -had neither time nor place; a struggle for capture on the part of one, -and for escape on the part of the other. - -Grey was the stronger of the two, the heavier, the more muscular, but -his foe was all elasticity, wiry, resilient, untiring, indomitable. The -minutes passed without any apparent advantage to either. The smaller -man was swearing in four languages and Grey was breathing hard. The -noise they were making, as they rose and fell and overturned furniture, -was thunderous. Each moment Grey expected the house would be awakened -and assistance would arrive. Perspiration was pouring from his every -pore; his pyjamas were in ribbons, his body and limbs half naked. -Vainly he strove to strike and stun his adversary. His blows were -dodged as if by instinct and his knuckles were bleeding where they had -come in contact with the floor. - -At length he succeeded in laying hold of the fellow’s face, his nose -and mouth in his iron grasp, but instantly the jaws wrenched open and -then closed savagely with Grey’s finger between viciously incisive -teeth. A cry of pain escaped him as for the smallest moment a wave of -faintness swept over him, and then he felt his antagonist slipping -sinuously from under him and he grabbed wildly for a fresh hold. He -caught a wrist and tried to cling to it, but the teeth were cutting to -the bone, grinding on the joint, and the wrist slid through his grasp -and the head followed in a twinkling. He rolled over and lunged out -again, but the steely jaws had at that instant released his mangled -finger, and even as he was striving to reach, struggling pantingly -to his knees, he heard the door open quickly and he knew that he was -alone. - -He sank back to a sitting posture, breathing hard and deeply, but the -air seemed suddenly to have grown thick and foul and choking, and -he clambered to his feet and sought in the darkness for a window. -Presently the touch of the curtains rewarded him. He thrust them -frantically aside, pushed open the sashes and then dropped down again -with his head and shoulders far out over the balcony, drinking in the -cool, fresh air of the very early morning. - -And it was here, in this position, a minute later that Johann, who had -after considerable deliberation decided to investigate the cause of the -disturbance, found him pale and exhausted, with the remnants of his -pyjamas spattered with blood from his bleeding finger. - -“Oh, Herr Arndt,” he cried, in perturbation, “what has happened? Have -you tried to kill yourself? Oh, it is suffocating here! The gas--the -room is full of gas.” - -Johann helped Grey to his feet, sat him in a chair by the window, and -having discovered the four gas jets of the chandelier which depended -from the ceiling in the centre of the room turned full on, he turned -them off, opened the other window and threw wide the door to effect a -draft. Then he lighted the candles and returned to make an inventory of -his master’s injuries. - -“I’m not very much hurt, Johann,” Grey assured him; “but it was a -pretty tough scrimmage while it lasted, and the brute did give my -finger a biting. He had teeth like a saw and jaws like a vise. His -original idea was asphyxiation, I suppose. He fancied I was asleep and -that he would make it my last. By the way, look in the bed over there. -You’ll find a chloroformed handkerchief, I think.” - -“And was it for robbery, do you imagine, Herr Arndt, that he came?” -Johann asked, as he went toward the bed. - -“God knows,” Grey answered. “It looks rather professional when a fellow -unlocks your door with a pair of nippers. The key was in the lock, you -see.” - -“You did not see his face, Herr Arndt? You would not know him?” - -“I’m not a cat, Johann, and I cannot see in the dark.” - -Then the valet hastened away to investigate, but returned without any -information worth the calling. He had aroused the _portier_ only to -learn that the street door had not been opened in two hours either for -ingress or egress. Whoever the depredator was he must either have come -in early and remained hidden or have entered through some unbarred -window in the rear of the hotel, probably escaping by the same means. -Having made his report Johann bathed and bound Grey’s finger, drew a -bath for him, got out clean nightwear, remade the bed, and, just as the -clock struck the half-hour after four, left him once more alone, still -with the chloroformed handkerchief in his hand, which he was examining -carefully for the third time. But it was merely a square piece of fine -hemstitched linen without any distinguishing mark whatever. In that, -certainly, there was no clue to his visitor. - -But just as he was about to blow out his candles his foot trod on -something hard, and he stooped and picked up a seal ring. It was very -heavy and richly chased, and it bore an elaborately engraved coat of -arms. In that last despairing clutch at the fellow’s hand he had -evidently stripped this from his finger--this which could not but -prove damaging evidence of his identity. The heraldic device was to -Grey unfamiliar, but it would be a comparatively easy matter to learn -to what family it belonged. Indeed, he had a vague recollection of -having noticed a ring of this pattern on the little finger of Baron von -Einhard’s ungloved hand the afternoon before in the hotel reading-room; -but the pattern was not uncommon, and-- but it was preposterous to -fancy that a man of his position, no matter what Lindenwald had said, -no matter what his reputation for chicanery, craft, and cunning, would -personally undertake a deliberate attempt at homicide. Such impossible -characters might figure in melodramas, but in real life they were out -of the question. And then he looked at the ring again, turning it over -and inspecting it very minutely in the light of the candle flame. - -Captain Lindenwald, when he was told of the affair, was quite sure -it was von Einhard even before he was shown the ring, and when that -was forthcoming he was willing to swear to it. The arms, he declared, -were the von Einhard arms, and the ring could have been worn by no -one save the Baron himself. He was for putting the matter in the hands -of the police and thus avoiding future dangers, but after a little -deliberation he realised that such a course would be impracticable. For -the present it was absolutely necessary, he knew, to reveal nothing as -to his and his charge’s whereabouts. Too much was known already; and -general publicity, even though it put von Einhard where he could do no -personal harm, would more greatly imperil the carrying out of the plans -that were indispensable. - -This, at least, was the impression he conveyed to Grey, though he was, -as usual, most guarded in his choice of words. Never yet, the American -observed, had he directly spoken of his mission, nor had he once so -much as intimated to him that he knew him as other than Herr Max Arndt. -That he was a crown prince _en route_ to the bedside of his dying sire -Captain Lindenwald had zealously refrained from uttering save to a -third party under stress of unusual circumstance, and then in a tone so -low that he could not reasonably be expected to hear. - -“If I may be permitted,” the Captain requested, “I will keep this ring -for a little. I may run across von Einhard, and I should like to give -him this one hint that his attempt on your life is known to us.” - -But for some reason which he could not define Grey demurred. - -“I have a whim to wear it,” he said, replacing it upon his finger; and -Lindenwald made no further plea. - - - - -VIII - - -It was deemed best not to mention the incident of the night to Miss -von Altdorf, and on their way to the Gare St. Lazare that morning Grey -accounted for his bandaged finger by the subterfuge of having caught -it in a door. He was not altogether satisfied with the spot chosen for -the day’s outing. Had he been allowed unaided to make the choice he -would undoubtedly have selected a resort of quite different character, -but the girl had expressed a wish to visit Louis XIV’s “_Abîme des -dépenses_,” and he had without demur acceded to her desire. After -all, to be alone with her and thus gather from her knowledge as much -information as possible concerning the mystery that surrounded him was -his prime object, and for this purpose Versailles offered as propitious -a background as Bougival or Croissy or a dozen other places that he -personally would have preferred. - -The day, washed clear and brilliant by the rain of yesterday, was not -uncomfortably warm, and, though the maimed finger ached distractingly -at times, Grey, in spite of his misgivings, found the little jaunt -delightfully diverting. The Fraülein had shaken off much of her -melancholy of the previous evening, and her mood was cheerful, if not -merry. Her appreciation, which was mingled with a joyousness almost -childish, was especially gratifying to her companion. Everything she -saw interested her, and her comment, while invariably intelligent, was -so unaffected and ingenuous as to be ofttimes amusing. - -When, after _déjeuner_ at the Café de la Comédie, they had come out -upon the terrace of the palace and stood overlooking the quaint, -solemn, old-fashioned gardens, cut up into squares and triangles and -parallelograms and ornamented with statues and vases and fountains -arranged with monotonously geometric precision, her face shone with -pleasure for a moment and then a shadow crossed it. - -“Are all landscape gardeners atheists?” she asked, naïvely. - -“I’m sure I don’t know,” Grey replied, smiling; “I’ve never -investigated their religious beliefs.” - -“Well, the one who designed all this,” she added, with a sweep of her -hand, “had very little respect for God’s taste.” - -And later, as they sauntered through room after room and gallery after -gallery of the palace, with their interminable succession of paintings -and sculptures, she was much impressed by the pictured ceilings. - -“I wonder why they put their best work where one must break one’s neck -to see it?” she queried; and then she laughed. “Do you suppose it was -to encourage the kings and queens and other grandees to bear in mind -their exalted position and to hold their heads high?” - -Grey had thus far refrained from broaching the subject which had -inspired the excursion. He had chosen first of all to study the girl -and gauge her character. Over her presence in the little party of -questionables in which he had so unexpectedly found himself he was much -perplexed. It seemed scarcely reasonable to suppose that she was not -in some way involved in the plot, but whether actively or passively, -with knowledge or without, was, or at least might be, open to question. -He certainly could gather no indication from her attitude, her manner, -or her utterance that she was other than artless and sincere. She -appeared, in fact, uncommonly simple-hearted, straightforward, and -guileless, and, after weighing the evidence, he reached the conclusion -that if she had a place in the scheme of his enemies it was most -assuredly without her ken or connivance. It was nevertheless clear that -she must be innocently aware of much that he wished eagerly to know, -and, as they wandered over the palace together, from the sumptuously -decorated _Salles des Croisades_, reflecting in picture, trophy and -souvenir the conquest of Jerusalem and the Holy Sepulchre, to the -magnificent _Galerie des Glaces_, with its many high-arched windows and -glittering, gilt-niched mirrors, he ponderingly strove to outline some -course of procedure that would yield him what he desired and yet not -reveal his own delicately fragile position. - -It was not, however, until they had finished their inspection of the -palace and had passed out into the gardens by the _Cour des Princes_ -that an opportunity offered to make trial of the plan he had conceived. -They had strolled under the orange trees beside that long stretch -of velvet lawn towards what is known as the basin of Apollo and had -found seats on the marble coping of the fountain. As they sat there -facing each other amid the perfume of the flowers and the spice of the -shrubbery, the balmy breath of summer fanning their cheeks and the -genial glow of a tempered June sun bathing them, the girl’s eye fell -for the first time upon the ring on Grey’s little finger, and she gave -an involuntary start of surprise. - -“Oh, is it you, then?” she cried, and there was something of awe in -her voice, though her eyes were smiling. “But no,” she added, quickly, -“that cannot be. I do not understand, Uncle Max.” - -“Nor I, child,” Grey replied, smiling back at her. He had not observed -her glance, and her exclamation had startled him. She took his hand in -her long, white, rose-tipped fingers and held it up before his eyes, -the ring glinting in the sunshine. - -“That!” she said. “What does it mean, your wearing it?” - -“Mean?” he hesitated, wondering. “Why should it mean anything? Has not -a gentleman a right to wear a ring if his fancy runs that way?” - -“Oh, yes, of course; some rings; but no ordinary gentleman has a right -to wear that one.” - -“But suppose I am not an ordinary gentleman?” he pursued. “Suppose I -have a title and bear arms, have I not a right to engrave those arms -upon gold and wear them on my finger?” - -She looked at him very seriously from out her deep-set, long-lashed -eyes of purplish blue, and then she said: - -“But it is the ring of the Crown Prince. And you are not the Crown -Prince. If you were you could not be my uncle.” - -Grey’s heart leaped. His decision had been confirmed. She was not -trying to put him on a throne to which he had no more right than -those workmen who were repairing the stone margin of the great canal -a hundred yards away. Yet, at the same time, she had filled him with -a new perplexity. It was evident that the ring was quite familiar -to her. Therefore it could hardly be von Einhard’s, and Lindenwald’s -assertion must not only have been false but knowingly false, and with -an object. If the Fraülein von Altdorf knew the ring as the Crown -Prince’s ring, Lindenwald must also have known it as such. It was for -that reason he did not wish Grey to keep it. He feared, probably, just -such a revelation as had come about. These points were plain enough, -but the whole intricate problem was growing more and more involved. -Its likeness to a maze again recurred. With every effort to extricate -himself he seemed to get further and more bewilderingly entangled. And -once more he was tempted to leave the path, which seemed to turn and -turn again on itself, and to cut his way through thicket and underbrush -regardless of consequences. - -“What a wise Fraülein it is!” he replied, after a pause. “What you say -is very true. If I am the Crown Prince I am not your uncle, and if I -am your uncle I am not the Crown Prince. Now which would you prefer to -have me?” - -“Oh, for your sake,” she answered, quickly, “I’d rather you were heir -to the throne; but for my sake I’d rather you were my uncle.” - -“But not being able to be both, suppose you should learn that I am -neither?” he queried, laughing. - -“But you are,” she protested, with conviction. “You are my uncle, that -is a fact.” - -“How do you know?” Grey asked. The situation was growing interesting; -disclosures were imminent, and they were coming quite naturally without -his having had to resort to the plan he had mapped out. - -“How does one ever know such things?” she replied, a little annoyance -in her tone. “You were my Great-uncle Schlippenbach’s nephew and I am -your niece. I call you Uncle Max and you call me Minna.” - -“Ah, yes, that is very true,” Grey went on, banteringly, and he -remembered what O’Hara had told him of how they had met in London a -week after his setting foot on English soil; “but you never saw me in -your life until two months ago. Do you remember how we first met?” - -“I have a very vivid recollection of it. It was at dinner at the -Folsonham, in London. I wore a pale green frock. And poor Great-uncle -Schlippenbach said: ‘Minna, my dear, this is your Uncle Max, who hasn’t -seen you since you were a baby.’” - -“And what else did he say?” - -“Oh, I don’t remember all the conversation.” - -“Did he say anything about where we were going, and what we were going -for?” - -“I don’t think he said anything then. But you must remember. You were -as much there as I was.” - -“Ah, but I was not listening,” Grey pleaded, his eyes a-twinkle. “I had -something better to do.” - -“What was that, pray?” - -“I had my pretty niece to look at.” - -The rose in Minna’s cheeks deepened and her eyes fell shyly. - -“Now you are teasing me again,” she said. - -Grey turned an uninterested gaze for a brief space on the sun-god and -his chariot which, surrounded by tritons, nymphs, and dolphins, rose in -heroic proportions from the centre of the basin. - -“I never knew much of my Uncle Schlippenbach,” he ventured, after a -little; “tell me about him.” - -“You should know more than I,” the Fraülein returned. “You were in New -York with him while I was in England.” - -“Yes, I know,” her companion went on, as he took a cigarette from his -case and struck a match, “but I don’t mean intimately, personally. Tell -me a little of his history.” - -“Everybody knew he was eccentric.” - -“Of course.” - -“Otherwise he would never have left Budavia. Just think of what he gave -up!” - -“That’s just it,” Grey interposed, eagerly. “What did he give up? I’ve -heard stories, to be sure, but I don’t know that I ever had the truth -of it.” - -“Oh, I’ve heard it a hundred times,” Minna responded, digging the -point of her parasol into the gravel. “You see, he was tutor to the -Court. He had taught King Frederic about all there was to teach, -and when His Majesty outgrew school books--of course he wasn’t His -Majesty then, but His Royal Highness the Crown Prince--Great-uncle -Schlippenbach accompanied him on the grand tour. They visited every -court in Europe and then went over to Africa and Turkey in Asia, and -I don’t know where else. Then when Frederic succeeded to the throne, -Great-uncle Schlippenbach was still retained, and after a while, when -a little prince was born to Queen Anna, he was constituted a sort of -kindergarten-professor to the royal infant.” - -“In other words, a mental wet-nurse,” suggested Grey. - -“Yes, exactly. I think he taught him to say ‘bah’ and ‘boo’ and -‘gee-gee’ and ‘moo-cow’--or rather their German equivalents--and led -him gloriously on to the alphabet. Then, just as he was beginning to -spell nicely in words of three letters, something happened. Nobody -ever knew just exactly what it was, but Great-uncle Schlippenbach took -offence. Her Majesty, Queen Anna, it seems, was to blame. He brooded -over the matter for weeks and months, growing more and more incensed, -more and more bitter. In vain King Frederic tried to mollify him. He -was very fond of Great-uncle Schlippenbach, and he wanted to smooth -matters over, but the royal tutor was not to be pacified. He broke out -in a torrent of rage, recounting his fancied wrongs and declaring that -he had wasted the best years of his life in a hopeless effort to grow -flowers of intellect from barren soil. The German Emperor would have -had him behind the bars for _lèse-majesté_, but King Frederic only -laughed and offered him a baronetcy. But Great-uncle Schlippenbach -scorned the offer. Having spoken his mind, he packed his boxes and -left the Court, left Kürschdorf, left Budavia, left Europe and went to -America to begin life anew. That was twenty-five years ago, and he was -forty years old.” - -“And the poor little Crown Prince had to learn his words of four -letters from someone less gifted, eh?” - -“Dear only knows from whom he ever did learn them,” Miss von Altdorf -continued. “He disappeared the very next week after Great-uncle -Schlippenbach.” - -“Disappeared?” repeated Grey. - -“Oh, yes, you remember that, surely. He was abducted, you know. Why, -that’s a part of the history of your own country. That’s why there’s so -much excitement now over rumours of his turning up at this late day. -Oh, dear, Uncle Max, why will you tease me so? You made me tell you -that whole story, and I’m sure you knew it quite as well as I.” - -Grey laughed joyously. - -“I love to hear you talk,” he told her, his gaze lingering fondly -on her blushing face. “And so,” he added, “they are looking for the -kidnapped baby to reappear a man and claim his own? Is that it?” - -But she was silent, her eyes downcast. - -“Won’t you answer me?” he pleaded. - -“I won’t again tell you what you already know,” she answered, a little -petulantly. - -“But I don’t know about this ring, really,” Grey urged. “Tell me about -it. What has it got to do with the stolen Crown Prince?” - -Minna looked up, regarding him searchingly. - -“Where did you get it?” she asked. - -“I found it,” he answered, quite truthfully. - -“In a jewel casket, within a great iron chest, inside an ordinary -travelling box?” she cross-questioned. - -The significance of the description was not lost on her hearer. - -“No,” he returned, frankly, “not in anything at all. On the floor of my -room.” - -Her eyes were round with surprise. - -“And how did it come there?” - -“I cannot imagine. That is why I’d like you to tell me what you know of -it.” - -“And before you found it on the floor of your room you had never seen -it?” - -“Never. I swear it by the sun-god yonder.” - -“My great-uncle never showed it to you--never told you of it?” - -“Never,” Grey repeated. - -“He showed it to me in London,” she confessed, reaching out for the -finger it adorned, “and told me all about it. It seems that when -he left Budavia it had in some way got in with his effects. He did -not find it until a year or more afterward. It had belonged to the -King before his coronation, and to his father before him, and to his -grandfather before that. The arms are those of the Prince of Kronfeld. -The Crown Prince is always, you know, the Prince of Kronfeld.” - -“And as the little Prince of Kronfeld had been kidnapped and Uncle -Schlippenbach did not know where to find him, he simply put the ring -away for safe-keeping, eh?” asked Grey, quizzically. - -“He was taking it back to Kürschdorf when he died,” Minna answered, -with rebuke in her tone. “As soon as he heard that the Crown Prince had -been found he started. He wished, he said, to put it on his finger with -his own hand. ‘His Royal Highness will probably travel _incognito_,’ he -said to me, ‘but I shall know him; and when we meet I shall give him -the ring. When you see it worn you will know that the wearer is the -Crown Prince.’” - -“And when you saw it on my finger you thought--just for a moment--that -I was he, didn’t you, Minna? But then, as I am your uncle I cannot be -the Prince of Kronfeld, so we will take it off and wear it no more,” -Grey concluded, slipping the golden circlet from his finger and stowing -it away in a pocket of his waistcoat. - -“But what I should like to know,” continued the Fraülein, “is how it -came on the floor of your room?” - -“And so should I,” her companion echoed; “how it got out of the casket, -and the iron chest, and the travelling box.” - -Presently the sound of many shuffling feet was borne to their ears, -accompanied by the discordant piping of high-pitched voices, and -turning their heads they saw approaching an army of tourists with a -gesticulating, haranguing guide in the lead. - -“It’s a case of ‘follow the man from Cook’s,’” Grey observed, annoyed -at having their privacy invaded. “We had better stroll on.” - -They walked rapidly for a while, keeping always to the right, until -they were out of sight and sound of the disturbing company, and then -they dawdled from terrace to terrace; leaned over lichen-stained -marble balustrades to see their reflections in the dark, silent pools; -loitered on banks of mossy turf beneath the shade of towering trees; -stopped to admire, to criticise, and not infrequently to laugh over -the sculptures that dotted the way, and came out at length upon an -avenue, long and straight and level and gleaming white in the afternoon -sunshine. - -“You want to see the Trianons, of course,” Grey suggested to the girl. -“I know you are familiar with many of the events that took place there.” - -And so, turning to the left, they sauntered on until they came to the -one-story horse-shoe shaped villa that Louis XIV built for Madame de -Maintenon. But Minna was tired of sight-seeing, and the porcelains and -the pictures proved alike uninteresting. The Petit Trianon pleased -her much better because of its associations with Marie Antoinette, -who had been one of her school-girl heroines, and over its delightful -English-looking garden she grew enthusiastic. - -They strolled along the winding paths, dallied on the shore of the -funny little artificial lake, and rested for a while in the “_Temple -de l’Amour_.” The number of visitors, however, was to both of them a -disturbing influence. They would have liked the place to themselves, -but they were at every turn running into couples and parties whose -presence, as Grey put it, “spoiled the picture.” - -They had just emerged from that group of homely, quaint cottages in a -far corner of the garden where the fair ladies of Louis’s Court were -wont to play at peasant life, when the rippling laughter of women and -the more hearty if less musical merriment of men broke jarringly upon -their hearing. - -“Can’t we have some milk at the _vacherie Suisse_?” Grey heard a -woman’s voice ask in the English of the well-bred. - -And then a man rejoined: - -“Milk! What for? There’s still an unopened case of champagne in the -coach.” - -Again the laughter echoed, but nearer. The little company were coming -towards them, hidden by the shrubbery. A second later and they came -into view--a tall, large woman with brilliant auburn hair, in gown and -hat of pale lavender; a middle-aged man, red-faced and well-groomed; a -dainty little dark woman, all in red, with a tall, dark man in grey, -and then--Grey went white as the whitest cloud overhead, for Hope Van -Tuyl was approaching, and with her was the young man from the Embassy -whom he had seen yesterday at the hotel. And there was Frothingham, -too, whom he had not recognised at first glance; and it was Nicholas -Van Tuyl, he saw now, who was with the red-haired woman in the lead. - -For a second he halted, undecided, a powerful impulse urging him to -speak to the woman he loved, at all hazards. His lips were framing -words, his eyes were beaming, his hand was half way to his hat, before -his judgment came to the rescue--and held him; told him that it would -be folly, that now as never before it was his duty to maintain his -disguise and thereby eventually establish his innocence. His eyes -cooled, his teeth closed on his embryo utterance, his hand dropped to -his side. - -“Carey Grey!” - -Hope’s voice rang out suddenly above the babble of the party. She had -seen him and recognised him. The others had passed on. Only she and -Edson were there beside him. With an effort that cost him the most -poignant torture he ever suffered he turned to Minna, murmuring words -that had no meaning and walked heedlessly by. - -Edson caught Miss Van Tuyl’s trembling arm. - -“Sh!” he warned, a little excitedly; “you’ve made a mistake. That isn’t -Grey.” - -“But”--and the colour came and went in her face and she breathed -quickly--“but I know it is. I know him, I’m sure; oh, quite, quite -sure. I cannot be mistaken. His hair is changed; yes, and he has a -beard, but his eyes--I should always know his eyes; and”--as she stood -gazing after him--“his shoulders. There isn’t another man in the world -who has shoulders just like Carey Grey’s.” - -“No other man, possibly,” added Edson, “except the Crown Prince of -Budavia.” - - - - -IX - - -On the way back to Paris Grey’s thoughtful silence contrasted so -markedly with his cheery loquacity of the morning that Fraülein von -Altdorf was led to observe: - -“I do believe you’re tired, Uncle Max.” - -“Tired?” he repeated, forcing a smile. “No, my child, not a bit. The -day has been a joy. I’ve revelled in it. Tired! The idea! Am I a -septuagenarian or am I an invalid?” - -“But you haven’t spoken for fifteen whole minutes.” - -“Haven’t I, really? I suppose I was thinking.” - -“Of what?” she asked, mischievously. - -Grey hesitated a little moment. - -“Of fortune and misfortune,” he answered, gravely; “of Fate and the -pranks she plays; of life and its inconsistencies; of right and wrong -and rewards and punishments; of love and hatred and jealousy; of fair -women and brutal, selfish men; of a hundred and one things more or less -interesting and absorbing.” - -“Oh, you _were_ busy!” the girl exclaimed. “I don’t wonder you didn’t -hear my question. Altogether I have asked it three times.” - -“I beg your pardon,” he pleaded contritely; “that was very rude of me. -Won’t you ask it once more?” - -They had a compartment to themselves and were seated opposite each -other. The train had just left Asnières and was crossing the Seine. - -“I was wondering whether you noticed the lady we passed in the garden -of the Petit Trianon. I don’t believe you did.” - -“We passed many ladies,” Grey temporised; “I can’t say that I noticed -them all.” - -“Oh, but this one was very beautiful,” she insisted. “She had such -colouring and such lovely brown eyes, and I think she thought she -recognised you.” - -“Why didn’t you tell me at the time?” he asked, striving to appear -unconscious. - -“Why didn’t I? That’s a nice question. I nudged you and I tried to -catch your eye; and, after we had gone on a few steps I begged you to -look back, but you wouldn’t heed me. Oh, you were thinking very hard -just then. Was it about fair ladies and brutal, selfish men, do you -imagine?” - -“Probably,” Grey answered. “I’m sorry I was so rude.” And once more he -relapsed into meditative silence. - -Very bitter indeed was his self-condemnation. If he could have had -a second more in which to make his decision he would have decided -differently. Of that he was sure. It may have been that he took the -course of wisdom, but wisdom and love have been enemies since time -began, and where his allegiance was due there he had proved traitor. -He contrasted his selfishness with her loyalty, and his ready -willingness to conclude that she believed ill of him with her now -proved steadfastness, even to the disregard of place and circumstance. -He had metaphorically given her a curse for a caress, and he mentally -and emotionally scourged himself for his brutality. The suggestion that -desperate ills require desperate remedies--that it was necessary to -be cruel that he might be kind--presented itself, but he refused to -admit that it had any application. He was consumed by a desire to make -reparation, to wipe out this blot of cowardice with some recklessly -bold bit of bravery. He would go to her hotel--the Van Tuyls always -stopped at the Ritz--and regardless of consequences he would present -himself, explain all, and, in abject abasement, beseech her pardon. -This, he argued, was the very least he could do. But when he reached -this conclusion doubts assailed him and robbed him of what little peace -he had garnered. Would she receive him? What right had he to expect -that she could permit him to speak to her, now that he had repulsed -her--cut her in the presence of her friends and further insulted and -humiliated her by appearing more than interested in another woman--and -a very young and very pretty woman, too? He most assuredly could have -no just cause for complaint should she adopt such an attitude. She had -indicated clearly enough that as long as only newspaper reports were -his accusers she was willing to await his side of the story, but when -she had given him an opportunity to defend himself, and he had chosen -to ignore it and herself as well, was it in reason to hope for any -further forbearance? - -It was in this mood that Grey’s return from Versailles was -accomplished; in this ill-temper with himself and this doubt of being -able to undo what he looked on as a more dire menace to his happiness -than all the charges of defalcation and embezzlement and all the -dangers of extradition. - -When at length he and Miss von Altdorf reached the Hôtel Grammont they -found O’Hara awaiting them. He came running out to the _fiacre_ and -gave a hand to the young woman, assisting her to alight. - -“Where on earth have you been?” he asked, smiling; but Grey caught a -note of concern in his voice. - -“To Versailles, for the day,” the Fraülein answered, gaily. “And oh, -such a lovely day, too! I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.” - -“Didn’t they tell you?” Grey asked. “Lindenwald knew.” - -“I haven’t seen him.” - -“Johann knew.” - -“I haven’t seen Johann either.” - -It was not until the two men were together in Grey’s room that O’Hara -broke his news. - -“They’ve cleared out,” he said, bluntly. “What do you think of that for -a rum go?” - -Grey, who had been drawing off his gloves, stopped midway in the -process. - -“Cleared out!” he repeated, in astonishment. “Who have cleared out? -What do you mean?” - -“The whole crew,” declared O’Hara, “Lindenwald and Lutz and Johann. I -understood at first that you and the Fraülein had gone with them, but -the _portier_ told me that you and she had started earlier and that -your traps were still here.” - -“But they?” Grey pursued, eagerly. “Where have they gone? Did they -leave no word?” - -“Devil a word,” returned the Irishman. “They paid their bill--that is, -the Captain did--and departed, kit and all.” - -“What does it mean?” - -“That’s what I’d like to know.” - -Grey drew off his other glove. - -“They’re frightened,” he decided; “they have grown suspicious. They -never knew at what minute they would be pounced on. Their plot was -clear enough. What they wanted to do was to palm me off as the Crown -Prince of Budavia and put me on the throne when the King dies, as he is -going to, if he has not already.” - -“What rot!” exclaimed O’Hara. “Have you gone clean daft? What would be -their object? How could they hope to do it?” - -“I don’t know anything about their object,” Grey continued, calmly; -“that’s still a puzzle to me; but they might hope for a lot with me in -the condition I was in a few days ago. I apparently did their bidding -to their utmost satisfaction.” - -“It’s very improbable,” the Irishman insisted; “you’ll never be able to -make any one believe it.” - -“Won’t I?” the American demanded. “Well, then, wait and see. I’ve -learned a lot since I saw you last. As much as I’ve told you is very -plain. I have witnesses to prove it. And the other proofs--my God! What -do you suppose has become of that box at the Gare du Nord? I sent Lutz -for the check or receipt last night, and he never brought it. And this -ring!” he went on, talking more to himself than to his companion, -“it was in that box. Of course it was. And--” He ceased speaking--his -thoughts were coming now too rapidly for words--and stood with lips -pressed and eyelids drawn, gazing through his lashes into space. - -He was satisfied that someone--he suspected it was Lutz--had got the -box from the railway station, had rifled it, had abstracted the ring, -had made so bold as to wear it. Yes, when Lutz had come in answer to -his summons of the previous evening, he was wearing it even then. -It must have been too large for him. He had been nervous, his hands -had been twitching, and it had dropped from his finger, and--but no; -could it be possible? Was it--_was_ it Lutz who had returned in the -early morning with intent to smother him? Was it he with whom he had -wrestled? Was it from his hand that he had stripped this heirloom of -the Budavian Court? And Lindenwald’s assurance that it bore the von -Einhard arms? What could that mean, other than that Lindenwald was in -league with Lutz and striving to shield him? And now their flight.... - -“Will you kindly tell me whether you are subject to these attacks?” -asked O’Hara, interrupting his train of thought. “If I’m to be your -lieutenant and serve in your campaign, it strikes me that I should have -your full and entire confidence, and yet you are keeping something from -me.” - -“I’ll tell you everything after dinner,” Grey consented. “We’ll have a -council of war and we’ll map out a plan of action.” - -When O’Hara had run away to dress, promising to meet Grey and the -Fraülein in a private room of the Café Riche at seven-thirty and dine -with them, the American’s thoughts reverted to his resolution to see -Hope Van Tuyl at all hazards. The disappearance of Lindenwald and -the others, however, had again somewhat altered the situation. It -was now more than ever necessary that he retain his freedom in order -to track and run down the fugitives, and he recognised the risk he -took in going to a hotel patronised largely by Americans and sending -up a card bearing his real name. Once more his judgment was in the -ascendency--wisdom had gained a slight advantage over the little blind -god. - -Sitting down at his table Grey took up a pen and wrote: - - MY DARLING: For the last two hours I have been in purgatory. What - must you think of me? I would come to you at once if I could, but - it is impossible. Tomorrow morning, though, I must see you. At - the end of the Tuileries gardens, near the Place de la Concorde, - there is, you may remember, a grove of trees. Arrange to be there - with your maid at eleven o’clock. There will be few there at that - hour. - -This he despatched to the Ritz by messenger. - -“Fancy Captain Lindenwald going off!” cried Minna, as, promptly at -twenty minutes past seven, she joined Grey in the drawing-room. “Where -has he gone, do you suppose? And Lutz, too, and even Johann.” - -“They’ve gone to the seaside over Sunday,” was Grey’s jesting reply. -“Paris was getting too warm for them.” - -“But,” she protested, at fault, “I understood we were all to start for -Kürschdorf tomorrow night.” - -“Were we? Who said so?” - -“Captain Lindenwald, last evening.” - -“Well, Captain Lindenwald has changed his plans.” - -“It is certainly very mysterious,” she concluded, perplexedly. “I -couldn’t believe it when the chambermaid told me.” And the great solemn -eyes were graver than usual. - -When, after dinner, they returned to the hotel, Grey’s glance detected -a telegram in the rack addressed to the decamping Captain and he made -haste to appropriate it. A little later, in his room, he handed it to -O’Hara. - -“It may be of service,” he said, significantly. “I don’t much like -prying into another man’s affairs, but in this case his and mine are, -in a way, identical.” - -The Irishman nodded. - -“We’ll keep it until you’ve told me all you know without it,” he -suggested, taking out a briarwood pipe and filling it, “so drive ahead, -lad, and don’t omit any details.” - -And then Grey told his story, beginning with the glimpse of von -Einhard, on the Boulevard St. Martin; following with the visit of Edson -and the overheard announcement that he, Grey, was the Crown Prince -Maximilian; the reappearance of the Baron; Lutz’s suspicious demeanour; -the attempt on his life; the finding of the ring; the ring’s history; -and, finally, his own deductions. - -O’Hara listened attentively, blowing great clouds of smoke from under -his red moustache. Occasionally he interrupted with a question. When -the recital was concluded he got up and extended his hand. - -“Well done, man,” he exclaimed; “you have been making hay in sun and -rain alike. I wonder if we could lay our hands on this Baron von -Einhard. It seems to me that he is just the chap we want to make -friends with.” - -“I dare say he is still hanging about,” the American replied; “he -probably has not lost sight of me. I’d know him if I saw him again. -We’ll have a look in at the cafés a little later. And now about -Lindenwald and the others. Didn’t the _portier_ know which way they -went?” - -“No, they hailed a couple of passing _fiacres_, and he didn’t hear what -directions were given.” - -Grey tore open the telegram which O’Hara had tossed onto the table. It -was dated Kürschdorf. “The King is dead,” it read; “wire when you will -be here,” and it was signed, “Ritter.” - -He pushed it across to the Irishman, remarking: - -“He probably had that news from some other source before he left.” - -“You think it hastened him?” - -“In a way, yes. At least it directed him,” Grey said, with conviction. - -O’Hara looked at him inquiringly. - -“You surely don’t imagine the three of them have gone to Kürschdorf?” -he blurted, in a tone of surprise. - -“I do mean that exactly.” - -“But why there, of all places? If Lindenwald is expected to bring the -Crown Prince with him he surely wouldn’t go there empty-handed. What -excuses could he make?” - -“I don’t pretend to conjecture his excuses,” Grey replied, smiling, -“but it seems very clear to me that Kürschdorf is his only sanctuary. -There he will be with friends. Whatever he says is likely to be -believed. If he fled elsewhere he would be in constant danger of -arrest. His very flight would be evidence of his guilt.” - -O’Hara nodded. - -“You’re probably right,” he acquiesced; “anyway he turned he had -to take chances, and Kürschdorf must have looked to him the least -dangerous. What do you propose to do?” - -“Follow him,” Grey answered, promptly. “Take the Orient Express -tomorrow night.” - -“And once we are there; what then?” - -“The Crown Prince claims the throne.” - -O’Hara put down his pipe and sat staring in amazement. - -“Claims the throne?” he repeated, “the Crown Prince?” - -“The Crown Prince claims the throne.” Grey reiterated it with calm -decision. - -“You mean that _you_ will claim the throne?” the Irishman persisted, -still perplexed. - -“Precisely.” - -The dragoon guard got up and walked the length of the room, smoking -very hard. - -“That’s a dangerous business,” he said, as he came back and stood -with the tips of his fingers resting on the table, “a very dangerous -business.” - -“There’s no other way in God’s world to find out who are in the plot,” -Grey returned, grimly. - -“I don’t quite see--” O’Hara began, but the American interrupted him. - -“I haven’t mastered all the details myself,” he said, “but that’s the -kernel of the nut we’re cracking. Perhaps von Einhard can aid us. He -must know the conspirators, and he can give us the names of the men -into whose hands we are supposed to play. I have a suspicion that the -Budavian Minister here in Paris is one of the lot. But it won’t do to -take that for granted. Otherwise I’d see him before leaving.” - -“I have been thinking over the idea of consulting the Baron,” O’Hara -ventured, after a pause. “Suppose he won’t believe you?” - -“Oh, but he will,” the other insisted; “I’ll make it quite clear to him -that I am an American and that I’m a victim and not an aspirant for -kingly honours, except in so far as goes to set matters right and bring -the guilty to justice.” - -“It’s a risk that you take there, lad,” the Irishman argued; “the more -I think of it the bigger it looks. He’s just as likely to fancy it’s -only a game of yours to throw him off the scent and secure your own -ends. I don’t believe Lindenwald exaggerated his shrewdness. I’ve -heard of him myself.” - -Grey rose, leaned over the table and took a cigarette from a tray. - -“Come,” he said, as he struck a match, “we’re liable to find him about -this time.” - -During the past twenty-four hours he had experienced a gradual -reawakening of faculties that had previously lain dull or dormant. His -five months of lost memory had had an after-effect in what he could -only describe as a mental thickness. His thoughts had run slowly and -sluggishly; he had lacked keenness of perception and the ability to -draw deductions; he had been all the while conscious of a timidity, an -indecision, a hesitation, a tendency to rely upon others, against which -he strove with but little effect. His actions were dictated by outside -suggestion rather than by his own judgment. And with this, too, was a -contrasting dignity of demeanour unnatural to him, and all the more -annoying in that it was, he knew, superficial and at discord with his -temperament. - -The clearing of his brain, the reassertion of his naturally alert -mentality, the recovery of his self-reliance, were now becoming -evident; but that unwonted, and to him unwelcome, exaggeration of -dignity in his carriage and demeanour gave no sign of deserting him. - -O’Hara observed the change and delighted in it. The soldier in him -could find only admiration for the manner in which Grey had risen -mentally in one day from a subaltern to a commanding officer; and the -dignified, distinguished air which had seemed, he once thought, a -little incongruous appeared now as most fitting and admirable. - -Together they went in search of the Budavian Baron. Into one café after -another they wandered, but always without success. They encountered -acquaintances by the dozen--men and women whom Grey and O’Hara had met -since their arrival in Paris, and whom Grey had no recollection of ever -having seen before--but the little, wiry, sallow-faced Italian-looking -nobleman was nowhere in evidence. - -It is never safe, however, to assume that a visitor to the French -capital is abed and asleep simply because he cannot be found in any of -the boulevard cafés around the hour of midnight. - - - - -X - - -At the door of the Hôtel Grammont, Grey and O’Hara stood for some -little time in conversation. As they were about to part, O’Hara asked: -“You haven’t a revolver, have you?” - -“No,” Grey answered, carelessly. “Shall I need one, do you think?” - -“After your experience of last night it seems to me it would be just as -well to sleep with one under your pillow.” - -Grey laughed. - -“I don’t fancy I shall be disturbed again,” he said. - -“I’ll run over to my place and get you one,” O’Hara insisted. “I shall -be back in ten minutes.” - -As he went off at a brisk walk Grey turned into the wide passage that -gave entrance to the court. The _portier_ was not visible, but at the -foot of the narrow stairway to the right a man who in the dim light -had the appearance of one of the hotel valets, addressed him. - -“Captain Lindenwald has returned, Monsieur Arndt,” he said, quietly, -respectfully; “he met with an accident and has come back. He begs that -Monsieur Arndt will see him before retiring.” - -For a moment Grey stood silent in surprise. - -“An accident?” he queried, recovering himself. - -“Yes, monsieur. His train ran into an open switch at Villieurs. His -leg is broken in two places, and he is injured internally. I will show -monsieur to his room.” - -As he led the way to the floor above and along a passage towards the -back of the house where Herr Schlippenbach’s room had been, Grey -marvelled over this new twist in the thread of fate. That the Captain -had returned to this hotel and had sent for him argued, he thought, -that there must have been some mistake or misunderstanding as to his -departure. If he had meant to desert his charge he would not under any -circumstances have acted in this fashion. Perhaps--indeed it was quite -possible--he had left a letter which some stupid French servant had -failed to deliver, or it might simply have been his intention to spend -Sunday out of Paris, giving Lutz and Johann permission to take a brief -holiday as well. O’Hara had said something about their luggage being -gone, but that might have been an error, too. - -At a turn in the passage Grey’s guide halted before a door and rapped, -playing, as it were, a sort of brief tattoo on the panel with his -knuckles; and at the same time a waiter passed on his way to the rear -stairway. - -An instant later the door was opened by someone who shielded himself -behind it. The man who had led the way and done the rapping stepped -back, and the American, his eyes a little dazzled by the light, put -a foot across the threshold. Just what followed Grey never exactly -knew. A myriad brilliant, sparkling, rapidly darting specks of fire -filled his vision. In his ears was a thunderous rushing sound like -a storm sweeping through a forest--a swollen river churning through -rocky narrows. His body seemed dropping through interminable space, -gaining momentum with every foot of its fall, but shooting straight, -straight downward without a swerve; the lights flashing by him, the -winds roaring past him as he sped. An agony of apprehension seized -him. He was going to be crushed to atoms; mangled, broken, distorted. -He tried to raise his arms, to clutch at the impalpable, but they were -held down as if by leaden weights. To bend a knee, to lift a foot, to -cry out, were alike impossible of achievement. And then, with a crash -that split his ears, that tore every joint asunder, that racked every -nerve, muscle, sinew and tendon, the end came. The myriad sparks, like -the countless flashing facets of countless diamonds, were drowned in -blackest night and the terrifying rush of furious winds and frantic -waves was hushed in a silence profound and awful--the blackness and the -silence of unconsciousness. - -Very gradually, but in much shorter time than he fancied, or than his -assailants expected, he recovered command of his faculties and became -aware that he was lying upon a couch, an improvised gag in his mouth, -his arms pinioned in a most uncomfortable way at his sides, and his -feet bound together with cords that cut cruelly into the flesh of his -ankles. He realised then that he had been led into a trap and had been -sandbagged or otherwise assaulted as he entered it. His mind was still -busy with Lindenwald and his motives, he fancied at first that he was -responsible for this outrage, and warily, between his lashes, with -his eyes scarcely opened, he glanced about the room in search of this -gallant member of the Budavian royal household. - -There were, however, but two persons present, and Lindenwald was not -one of them. One was the little man whom he had mistaken for a hotel -valet and who had lured him to his downfall; and the other was a tall, -burly, bearded fellow, with a low forehead and sinister, bloodshot -eyes. The two were standing near an open window and the larger man had -in his hands a thick hempen rope, one end of which Grey observed was -knotted about the heavy post of an old-fashioned mahogany bedstead -which stood against the opposite wall. On more careful inspection he -saw that the man was deliberately making a slip knot of the pattern -known as a hangman’s noose. The only light in the room was that given -by a single candle, but it sufficed for Grey to gather these details. - -The smaller man leaned out of the window for a moment, and on drawing -in his head he turned to the other with the remark: - -“The carriage is there. Make haste with your knot. I’m not in love with -this business.” - -He spoke in German and his partner replied in the same tongue. - -“Have patience,” he said, calmly; “it’s a heavy body we’ve got to lower -and the knot must be strong. There’s plenty of time. He won’t come to -himself for hours, and there’s no fear of anyone interrupting us now.” - -“Don’t be too sure of that,” was the reply, in a tone of nervous -apprehension; “we have been here too long as it is. If we should fail -at the last minute, the Baron would----” - -“S--sh!” warned the other, “no names is safer. Just another wrapping -now and she’ll hold all right. Some wrap it seven times and some only -five, but I’m giving it nine, to be sure.” - -He had scarcely finished the sentence when a blow, aggressive and -imperious, sounded on the door. The younger man started nervously, but -the other just phlegmatically lowered his work and raised his head. - -“What’s that mean?” he whispered. - -“God knows!” the other replied, agitatedly. “What’s to be done?” - -“Done? Nothing. Keep still, that’s all. Blow out that candle,” he -commanded. Though he spoke very low his voice penetrated and Grey -caught every word. - -Again a heavy blow struck the door, repeated blows, accompanied by a -demand: - -“_Ouvrez la porte!_” - -The voice was O’Hara’s. Grey recognised it with a thrill. He had -returned with the revolver, and not finding him in his room had set out -in search of him. But how, he wondered, could he have traced him here? -And then he thought of the waiter he had seen in the passage, who had -evidently recognised him. Yes, the waiter must have told. - -Now Grey heard other voices outside. There was the shuffling, too, of -many feet. Still, the men within made no sound. The candle had been -extinguished and the darkness was intense. - -The knocking became clamorous. There was a general ominous murmur like -low growling thunder from the other side of the door. - -Bang! bang! bang! resounded the blows. - -“Open the door! Open at once or I’ll break it down,” O’Hara roared. - -Grey’s enforced silence and inertia were maddening. He bit at his gag, -contorted his mouth, tugged at his arms, but could accomplish nothing, -beyond a wriggling change of position. - -“Perhaps they have gone,” he heard someone say, whose voice was -sonorous, “perhaps they have gone. Escaped by the window. There is no -light there; and no sound.” - -“Stop!” It was O’Hara speaking. “Listen!” - -With an effort Grey squirmed to the edge of the couch and dropped his -bound body to the floor with a thud that echoed through the silent room. - -“Damn him!” he heard the bigger of his two companions hiss through his -teeth. - -From outside there came a yell of triumph; and then a heavy, crashing, -catapultian mass fell upon the fragile portal. There was a crackling, -splintering sound of wood rent apart, and through the aperture thus -made, in the dim light of the single gas-jet in the passage, O’Hara -came plunging with half a dozen of the hotel employés at his heels. - -At the same instant a head disappeared below the sill of the window, -and the rope from the bedpost was stretched taut and creaking with the -weight of two descending bodies. - -The Irishman, crossing the room in a flash, missed the form of his -prostrate friend by a hair’s-breadth and dived headlong for the open -casement. But quick as he was the fleeing scapegraces, realising their -danger, were even more speedy. As his head shot out into the night -the strain on the rope relaxed and there came up from the darkness -below a patter of feet on the stone flagging of the alley. His pistol -was in his hand and he fired once--twice--three times--blindly into -the blackness beneath, guided only by the echo of those retreating -footsteps. - -Meanwhile, one of the Frenchmen--Baptiste, the waiter, by the way, -who had told O’Hara that he saw Monsieur Arndt enter this room--was -removing the gag from Grey’s mouth, while others were cutting the -cords that bound his limbs. For a moment the American’s view of the -Irishman’s broad back was cut off by those surrounding him, but the -next minute he was on his feet and--but in that instant O’Hara had -disappeared. Clutching the dangling rope, he had swung himself out of -the window and had slid down nimbly in pursuit. - -Grey’s impulse was to follow, but at the first step he reeled dizzily -and would have fallen had not Baptiste thrown an arm about him and -aided him to a chair. His head was aching splittingly and his legs and -arms were numb. For a little while he was lost to everything save the -racking torture of physical pain. Then the voluble, excited clatter of -the men about him recalled him to a sense of what had happened. - -“What are you standing here for?” he cried, vexedly. “Get down to the -street, every one of you. Monsieur O’Hara may need you. Off, I say. Be -quick!” - -“But, monsieur,” urged Baptiste, hanging back as the other five made a -hasty exit, “is it not that monsieur would like a surgeon?” - -“Surgeon be damned!” yelled Grey, excitedly. “Out with you!” - -But in five minutes they were back again in augmented numbers, with -O’Hara accompanied by a _sergent de ville_ at their head. - -“They got clean away, the beggars,” the Irishman announced; and then -seeing Grey very white, he exclaimed: “Are you hurt, lad? What in God’s -name did they do to you, the scalawags?” - -“I’m only a little knocked up,” the American answered, with a forced -smile; “it was a pretty hard rap on the head they gave me, though.” - -The police officer had taken out a notebook, and now he began to ask -questions. There was very little, however, that anyone could tell him. -Grey described his assailants as accurately as he knew how, and gave -him the benefit of his suspicions. - -“By whom was the room engaged?” asked the _sergent_, addressing -Baptiste; but Baptiste did not know. Then a messenger was sent to -arouse the _portier_, who had been abed for an hour or more, and when -at length he came in, still rubbing his eyes, the information that he -gave conveyed nothing. - -The room, he said, was taken that evening by a man of ordinary -appearance who gave the name of Schmidt. His brother and a friend would -occupy it, he told the _portier_, and he paid one day’s rent in advance. - -“Was the man tall or short?” asked the officer. - -The _portier_ shrugged his stalwart shoulders. - -“I do not know,” he replied. - -“Was he dark or fair?” - -“I cannot tell you, monsieur,” he repeated; “I did not notice.” - -“Of what age?” - -“It is impossible that I should conjecture, monsieur,” with another -shrug. - -Grey laughed, sneeringly. “He evidently paid more than room rent,” he -said to O’Hara. “The Baron von Einhard is very clever.” - -And when, a little while after, he thought of looking through his -pockets he had reason to reiterate and emphasise this opinion. Not a -penny of his money had been touched; his watch and chain were still in -his possession, as were indeed all of his belongings save one. The ring -of the Prince of Kronfeld alone was missing. - - - - -XI - - -Resentment--fierce, vengeful, absorbing--took possession of Carey -Grey. That he should have been disgraced, dishonoured, robbed for a -time of his reason and his memory, his friends made to suffer, his -life put in jeopardy, and all without the slightest provocation, was -an outrage so heinous that he considered no punishment too great for -its perpetrators. The fact that the one who was apparently mainly -responsible for the inspiration and the execution had been summoned to -a spiritual tribunal to answer for his misdeeds tempered not a whit -the victim’s bitter animosity. Indeed, he felt that death had cheated -him of what he craved as a meagre compensation for his wrongs--the -opportunity to visit personally upon the arch-offender his own -retribution. But if Herr Schlippenbach had been snatched from his hands -by a too kindly Providence there were others remaining who should feel -the weight of his relentless vengeance. - -In this mood, wakeful and dreamful by turns, a cold compress on his -bruised head, Grey worried through the early hours of the morning. With -the first sign of the blue dawn, however, he became more composed. -His meditations took on a more gentle guise; his brow, which had been -wrinkled with frowns, smoothed; into his eyes came a tenderness that -routed spleen, and his mouth softened its tensity of line. The day held -for him a joy the anticipation of which was a benison. - -After all, heaven was not wholly unkind. He had been made to suffer -cruelly and undeservedly, but there was at least one compensation--the -woman he loved was here, near him, in the same city; in a few hours -he would meet her, talk with her, feel the warmth of her hand in -his, experience the benignant sympathy of her eyes and the caressing -graciousness of her voice. With the dawn had come confidence, and he -smiled as he recalled his doubts of the previous afternoon. Her love -was steadfast, enduring, immutable. Of this he felt assured. And her -faith and loyalty were like her love. He lay for hours in blissful -contemplation of the character, disposition, mind, manner and person of -the woman he adored. - -He recalled their first meeting at a barn dance at Newport, when she -was in her débutante year; and then, an event of the following day -came back to him vividly as in a picture. The scene was the polo field -at Point Judith. He had just made a goal by dint of hard riding and -unerring strokes, and a hurricane of applause had followed, led, it -seemed to him, by a tall young woman in white, with great, shining -brown eyes and flushed cheeks, who was standing up in her place atop -a coach, clapping her hands in frantic delight. And this picture was -followed by others--a panorama in which the same girl figured again and -again--always beautiful, always smart, always gracious. - -He attired himself, this fine Sunday morning, with more than usual -care, despite the absence of his valet, and set forth early for the -rendezvous he had chosen. Already the boulevards were alive. Many of -the chairs in front of the cafés were occupied by sippers of absinthe -and drinkers of black bitters. From the gratings in the sidewalks -arose the appetising aroma of the Parisian _déjeuner à la fourchette_. -He crossed the Avenue de l’Opéra and, turning into the rue de la Paix, -was presently passing the entrance of the hotel that sheltered her who -filled his thoughts--her whom he had come out to meet. A _fiacre_ was -at the curb, and, fancying that it might be awaiting her, he hastened -his steps so that he should not encounter her in so public a place. -From the summit of the Vendôme Column the imperial-robed Napoleon cast -an abbreviated shadow across his path as he cut across the _place_ into -the rue de Castiglione. A man he did not remember bowed graciously as -he passed him at the corner of the rue de Rivoli, and a little further -on a somewhat showily gowned woman in an enormous picture hat, probably -on her way to the Madeleine, leaned from her carriage to smile upon -him. And she, likewise, was without his recollection. - -At the corner of the rue Cambon he made a diagonal cut to the garden -side of the street, and a minute later reached the broad and imposing -Place de la Concorde in all its bravery of bronzed iron and granite -fountains, sculptured stone figures, rostral columns and majestic -Obelisk. - -As he turned into the gardens of the Tuileries, Grey glanced at his -watch to discover that the time still lacked five minutes of eleven. -He looked back in expectation of seeing a cab approaching, but, though -there were many crossing the place at various angles, there was none -headed in his direction. He strolled off between the flower-beds -into the little grove at his right. Just ahead of him he descried a -figure in pink, and his heart bounded; but he overtook it only to meet -disappointment. He lighted a cigarette, sat down on a bench, and dug -in the gravel with his walking-stick; his eyes, though, ever on the -alert, looking now one way, now another. He took out his watch again. -The minute hand was still a single space short of twelve. He got up and -retraced his steps towards the entrance with the object of meeting her -as she came in. Again he gazed across the wide, sun-washed area of the -place, but without reward, and then a dour melancholy threatened him. -He was assailed by forebodings. She would not come. He had offended her -beyond reparation. The day suddenly grew dull. A cloud hid the sun. -The gaiety of those who passed him became offensive. The sight of a -youth with his sweetheart hanging on his arm filled him with rancour. -He walked back and forth irritably. He was depressed, heavy-hearted, -apprehensive. - -Another five minutes dragged by, with a corresponding increase in the -young man’s dejection. His imagination was now active. It was quite -possible she had left Paris. His messenger, perhaps, had failed to -deliver his note. He wondered if by any chance she might be ill. - -He was standing, pensive, by the fountain, undecided whether to wait -longer or to go on to the Ritz in search of her, when the rustle of -skirts behind him caused him to turn. - -“Ah--h!” exclaimed a laughing voice, “it is then you after all. I was -not sure. I looked and I looked, but you are so changed, Mr. Grey!” - -It was Marcelle, Miss Van Tuyl’s maid, and at the sound of her peculiar -accent Grey recognised her instantly. He realised, too, that it was she -whom he had seen on the moment of his coming--the figure in the pink -frock. - -“Miss Van Tuyl sent this note, Mr. Grey,” she went on, handing him an -envelope which he noticed was unaddressed. - -His spirits rose a trifle. She had not left Paris, then, and she had -received his message. - -“Miss Van Tuyl is not ill, I hope?” he questioned, anxiously. - -“Oh, no, Mr. Grey,” and Marcelle shrugged her plump shoulders and -raised her black eyebrows, “but--” and she hesitated just the shade of -a second “she is--oh, I fear she is most unhappy.” - -“Thank you very much, Marcelle,” he said, ignoring her comment, though -the words were as a sword-thrust, and handing her a louis. “Is there an -answer?” - -“I do not know, monsieur; but I think not.” - -Grey tore open the envelope and glanced over the inclosure. - -“No,” he announced, his face very set and suddenly pale. “Give my -compliments to Miss Van Tuyl,” he added, “that is all.” - -When the girl had gone he turned again into the little grove and once -more found the seat under the trees where a few minutes before he had -impatiently dug the gravel with his walking-stick. He sat now with his -forearms resting on his thighs, the note crushed in his hand, his eyes -bent, thoughtful but unseeing, on the grass across the walk. - -She had refused to come to him. It was probably better, she had -written, that they should not meet again. She could imagine nothing -in the way of explanation that would form an adequate excuse for his -action of the afternoon before. And that was all. Only five lines in a -large hand. - -The self-chastisement of the man was pitiless; his contrition pathetic. -He was willing now to make any sacrifice, to suffer any abasement, to -risk any punishment, to sustain any loss if by so doing he could gain -forgiveness, achieve reinstatement in favour--aye, even attain the -privilege of pleading his cause. He had been so sure of her; it had not -seemed possible that she could ever be other than love and devotion and -loyalty personified. Her smile was the one sun he thought would never -set and never be clouded. And now she had taken this light from his -life forever. With that gone, he asked himself, what else in all the -world mattered? What were honour, position, credit, fortune, if she -were not to share them? - -He smoothed out the crumpled sheet and read it again, slowly, -carefully, weighing each word, measuring each phrase, considering each -sentence. And then the utter hopelessness of his expression changed. -“It is probably better,” he repeated, quoting from the note, and the -“probably” seemed larger and more prominent than any other eight -letters on the page. There was nothing absolutely final about that. It -was an assertion, to be sure, but there was a lot of qualification in -that “probably.” And further on, she had not said: “There is nothing in -the way of explanation you can offer,” but “_I can imagine_ nothing.” -He thanked God for that “I can imagine.” Oh, yes, indeed, there was -a very large loophole there; and so he took heart of grace, and even -smiled, and got up swinging his stick jauntily. All he wanted was a -fighting chance. He had won her a year ago from a score of rivals, and -he would win her now from herself. And not from herself, either, for -with the return of hope he felt that he would have no more stanch ally -than she. It was with her sense of what was fit and becoming that he -must battle--her pride and her self-esteem which he had outraged. He -would go to her, bravely, as he should have done before, instead of -asking her to meet him in this clandestine fashion. He had been a fool, -but he would make amends and she would forgive him. Yes, he was quite -sanguine now that he could win her pardon. - -He retraced his steps briskly to the Place Vendôme and turned in at -the Ritz with head erect and chin thrust forward. He had no cards, -of course, but he scribbled “_Carey Grey_” upon a slip of paper and -asked that it be sent to Miss Van Tuyl at once. And then he waited, -nervously, smoking one cigarette after another, walking back and forth, -sitting down, only to get up again, agitatedly, and to resume his -pacing to and fro. - -“Miss Van Tuyl is not at home, monsieur.” - -It was the _portier_ who delivered the message. Grey stood for a full -half-minute, staring stupidly. He had not counted upon this. He had -been all confidence. That she was in the hotel he felt very certain; -but she would not see him. He might have foreseen that consistency -demanded this attitude of her. To send him a note one moment refusing -to permit him to explain and at the next to grant him an audience -was not to be expected of a young woman of Hope Van Tuyl’s sterling -character. There was, therefore, but one course open to him. What he -had to say he must put in writing. - -“I’ll leave a note,” he said to the _portier_; and he went into the -writing-room and sat down at a table. But when he came to write he was -embarrassed by the flood of matter that craved expression. There was -so much to tell, so much to make clear, so much to plead that he was -staggered by the contemplation. Again and again he began, and again and -again he tore the sheet of paper into tiny bits. He dipped his pen into -the ink and held it poised while he made effort to frame an opening -sentence; and the ink dried on the nib as one thought after another was -evolved only to be rejected. - -For the fifth time he wrote: “My Very Dearest,” and then, nettled over -his laggard powers, he dove straight and determinedly into the midst -of the subject that engrossed him, writing rapidly and without pause -until he had finished: - -“I cannot find it in my heart to question the justice of your -decision,” he began. “Viewed in the light of your meagre knowledge, -or rather ignorance, of facts, I must look indeed very black. But I -am guiltless; that I swear. Under the circumstances you must know how -anxious I am to prove this, and how, in justice to you and myself, I -must let no opportunity pass to discover and convict the real culprits. -To have recognised you at Versailles yesterday before the man you were -with would have been to ruin every chance of accomplishing what I have -set out to do. Imagine, my dear, the alternative from which I had to -choose. Had it been simply a question of my personal liberty, you -cannot doubt which course I should have taken. I was burning to speak -to you--to look into the eyes I love, to hear the voice I adore--and -yet for both our sakes I had to deny myself. The child who was with me -is sweet and charming, and in no way implicated in the plot against me. -When you know her, as I hope you will one day, you will be very fond -of her. But I can understand how the situation must have appeared to -you. I would give all I have and all I hope for if I could but be with -you and tell you everything. All I ask now is that you trust me. I am -leaving Paris this afternoon for Kürschdorf by the Orient Express. I -cannot say when I shall return. But when I do it will be to search for -you, and with honour vindicated and no further need of secrecy. My -heart is with you always, my darling. _’Au revoir._” - -The letter dulled, in a measure, the keenness of Grey’s disappointment -and reinspired him to the accomplishment of the task that lay before -him. After luncheon he had up his trunks from the hotel storeroom and -with Baptiste’s assistance accomplished his packing. Already O’Hara -had engaged places for three on the train, for Miss von Altdorf’s -destination was the same as theirs. She had a married sister living -in Kürschdorf, and she was most anxious to join her at the earliest -possible moment. - -By half-past five everything was in readiness for their departure; -Baptiste had retired with a liberal tip, and Grey and O’Hara were -making themselves ready for the journey. Just at this juncture there -was a knock at the door, and in answer to Grey’s command to enter, -it swung open to reveal, bowing on the threshold, the sturdy little -figure, pale face, and close-cropped yellow head of Johann. - -The two occupants of the room stood astonished, their eyes wide with -surprise. - -“Johann!” they exclaimed together. - -“Yes, Herr Arndt,” said the lad, bowing again; “it is as you see--I -have come back.” - -“Back from where, Johann?” Grey asked. - -“I started for Kürschdorf with the Herr Captain Lindenwald; but I am -come back from Strasburg.” - -“And why?” queried the American, very much puzzled. - -“Because, Herr Arndt, I knew it was not right for me to be going with -the Herr Captain. I was in your service, and perhaps if you were seized -with madness you have all the more need of me.” - -“Madness!” repeated Grey, frowning. “What is this? Who said I was mad?” - -“The Herr Captain and Lutz,” confessed Johann, stolidly, with scarce a -change of expression. - -O’Hara laughed. “Oh, ho!” he shouted, dropping into a chair, “now we -have it. You are mad, and so you cannot go to Budavia to claim your -own.” - -Johann nodded; and Grey, leaning against the edge of the table, was -lost for a moment in thought. - -“But the Fraülein?” O’Hara questioned. “What did they say of her? Was -she to be left with the madman?” - -“No, Herr O’Hara; only for a little. The Herr Captain Lindenwald had -arranged, Lutz told me, to have Herr Arndt taken to an asylum by the -doctors and then the Fraülein was to be brought to Kürschdorf.” - -Grey smiled, grimly. “The doctors were the gentlemen you chased out of -the window last night, Jack,” he said. And then he asked of Johann: -“Did they say anything of Baron von Einhard?” - -“No, Herr Arndt.” - -“You are quite sure?” - -“I have not heard of his name, Herr Arndt.” - -Then Johann was told of the plan of departure and was sent off to -telephone for another place on the Orient Express for himself. When he -returned the American said to him: - -“It was very good of you, Johann, to come back.” - -“Ah, Herr Arndt,” he returned, in a tone of appreciation, “I could not -do less. Can I ever, do you think, forget that it was you who saved my -life?” - -Grey’s surprise must have shown in his eyes, but he asked no questions. -Later, however, just as they were about to start for the Gare de -Strasbourg, he found himself alone with O’Hara for a moment and put the -query to him: - -“What is this about my having saved Johann’s life?” - -“You don’t remember it? Oh, of course not,” the Irishman answered. -“Well, you had your pluck with you, lad, if you didn’t have your -memory. We were in that fire at the Folsonham, in Piccadilly. It -happened in the early morning when the whole house was asleep, and -that the death list was not larger was little short of a miracle. The -front stairs were burning as Schlippenbach, the Fraülein and you and -I reached them. When I got to the bottom I missed you, and looking -back saw you through the smoke still standing at the top. ‘For God’s -sake, make haste, man!’ I called, ‘the stairs may fall at any minute.’ -But you had seen a figure staggering down, half suffocated, from the -floor above. Well, instead of saving yourself you went back to help -that figure, which proved to be Johann. And even at that moment the -staircase fell with a crash. But you caught the stumbling, dazed -Budavian from out a hurricane of sparks, rushed him through a room -filled with blinding smoke and climbed with him hanging limp over your -shoulder out of a window onto an already burning ten-inch cornice. -And there you held him, against the wall, God only knows how, until a -ladder was run up and the pair of you brought safely to the street just -as the cornice crumbled and went down. And, good Lord, but didn’t the -crowd cheer! Only fancy your not remembering anything of it!” - -“I’m glad I managed it,” said Grey, simply. But the story depressed -him. What else had he done in those five months of somnambulism? The -thought of that period and its possibilities had grown distressful to -him. He had committed a great crime and he had performed a brave deed. -They were the opposite poles of that world of sleep. But what other -acts lay between? What other incidents of right and wrong filled the -intermediate zones? He shrank from asking general questions on the -subject, and speculation was as distasteful as it was futile. When, as -in this instance, accident had revealed something, the result was a -sort of emotional nausea. - - - - -XII - - -On the platform of the Gare de l’Est, with ten minutes to spare before -the departure of the Orient Express, Grey and O’Hara, with the fair -Minna von Altdorf between them, strolled leisurely up and down beside -the long and lugubrious train of _wagons-lit_. There was the usual -bustle incident to the leaving of the great transcontinental flyer. -Passengers were nervously seeking their locations; blue-overalled -porters wheeling trucks piled high with trunks and boxes hurried -towards the luggage vans, and others with smaller impedimenta in hand -crowded on the narrow platforms of the cars and ran into the still -smaller passageways upon which the compartments opened. English and -American tourists unable to speak the language of the country were -besieging the interpreters; friends and kinsfolk with lingering -handshakes, effusive embraces, and kisses upon either cheek were -bidding departing travellers farewell, and dapper-uniformed guards -were at intervals repeating the stereotyped command: “_En voiture, -messieurs!_” There was the distracting hissing of escaping steam, the -shrill piping of whistles, the rumble and roar of arriving trains. And -over all hung an atmosphere of intolerably humid heat. - -O’Hara and the Fraülein were chatting animatedly, but Grey was still -depressed and silent. The delay irritated him. He was impatient to be -gone. For the hundredth time he was wondering whether he had said too -much or too little in his letter to Hope Van Tuyl; wondering how she -regarded it; whether she was still obdurate. He had not given her an -address and there was no way in which she could communicate with him. -He regretted this now. A word from her would be a talisman. - -His memory of her as he had seen her yesterday at Versailles was very -vivid. It was only a glimpse, but in that instant he had drunk in -greedily the marvellous perfection of her beauty; and the picture had -dwelt with him since. Sleeping and waking he could see the bronze dusk -of her hair, the gentleness of her eyes, the softly flushed curve of -her cheek, the tender sympathy of her mouth, the supple grace of her -figure. The portrait was not new to him, to be sure--he had many times -revelled in fond contemplation of those rare features--but absence -had its usual effect, and it had been centuries, it seemed, since his -vision had been so blessed. Against the dull, dun, grimy background of -the railway station this radiant reflection was projected, clear and -sharp. He saw her mentally just as he had seen her physically on the -previous afternoon. - -And as he gazed a miracle was wrought. For into and out of the image -came and grew the reality, and he suddenly realised that she was -standing before him, that in one hand he was holding his hat and that -his other hand was clasping hers. All the sights and sounds of the -platform died away, and he saw only her, more beautiful even than he -had dreamed, her eyes alight with love, her lips smiling forgiveness. - -O’Hara and the Fräulein had passed on, and he and the one woman in the -world had drawn aside out of the hurry and scurry. A few steps away -stood Marcelle, the maid, her interest decorously diverted. - -“Oh, how good you are!” Grey was saying, his heart in his voice; “how -very, very good you are!” - -Her hand answered the ardent pressure of his. - -“I just couldn’t let you go without seeing you,” she returned. “You -cannot imagine what I have suffered. I tried to be brave--I tried so -hard, dear; but I’m only a weak woman and my soul longed for you every -minute.” - -What bliss it was to hear her speak! It set the man’s pulses surging. -His face was flushed and young and happy again, as it had not been -since his awakening. - -“The whole thing has been frightful,” he told her, clenching his teeth -at the recollection. “You haven’t an idea what a net of circumstance -has been thrown around me.” - -“Yes,” she hastened, “I know--they told me you had been ill, -irresponsible; that you had had brain fever or something, and--oh, -Carey, why did you do that?” and she pointed to his beard. - -He smiled grimly. - -“I didn’t do it,” he answered, with emphasis. “You surely don’t think -I’d be guilty of such a ridiculous transformation, do you?” - -“But----” - -“I’ll explain some day, dear heart,” he interrupted her, “but there -isn’t time now; the train leaves in about five minutes, and I want all -of that in which to tell you how very beautiful you are and how very, -very much I love you.” - -She wore a perfectly fitting gown of white with rich lace, and a large -hat of pale blue with a circling ostrich plume of the same delicate -tint. Her tall and shapely figure was quite unavoidably a little -conspicuous, and a target for admiring glances. - -“Leaves in five minutes?” she repeated, dolorously. “But I can’t let -you go in five minutes. I have so much to say to you. It has been -five months since I spoke to you. You must wait and take the next -train--wait until tomorrow.” - -“If only I might!” Grey replied, his eyes in hers. “If it could only be -we should never part again, never! Ah, my own, how my arms ache for -you!” - -“But you can stay,” she urged. He was still holding her hand, and now -she placed her other hand over his as she pleaded. “There is no reason -why you shouldn’t. What difference will twenty-four hours make? Are you -going for the King’s funeral? It is set for Friday, you know. We are -thinking of going ourselves. Wait until tomorrow, and you and papa and -I can go together.” - -“But, my darling,” Grey protested, arguing against his inclination, -“don’t you see that that would be quite impossible? Your father could -not afford to be seen with me. I am a supposed fugitive from justice. -He would be guilty of aiding and abetting a criminal,” and he smiled -grimly again. - -“What would he care?” the young woman demanded, airily. “He doesn’t -believe you guilty. He knows you are not. He has said as much. I can’t -let you go, dear; I can’t--I won’t.” - -“Please, please don’t make it more difficult for me to part from you -than it is already,” he begged. “You know how much I long to have you -with me, and yet another day’s delay might ruin everything. I should be -in Kürschdorf at this very minute.” - -Her eyes glistened and tears hung on her lashes. - -“Why?” she asked, simply. - -“All my hopes of undoing the wrong that has been done me lie in that -direction,” he answered, gravely. “It was a conspiracy, dear, involving -men high in the Budavian government. The work of unmasking them will -grow more difficult with each hour it is put off.” - -She gazed at him in sudden alarm. - -“You are going into danger,” she murmured. Her voice trembled. Anxiety -was in her tone. She pressed his hands nervously, convulsively. “Tell -me the truth. You are, aren’t you?” - -Grey laughed to reassure her. - -“Not a bit, my darling,” he answered, with an assumption of -nonchalance; “the whole affair can, I think, be adjusted most -peacefully.” - -For a moment she was silent, her eyes reading his thoughts. - -“I’m going with you,” she exclaimed, suddenly. - -Grey stared at her in surprise. - -“I only wish you could,” he said, refusing to take her seriously, “but -I don’t see just how----” - -“I’m going,” she interrupted, determinedly. “I shan’t be in the least -in your way, that I promise. But I’m going. I refuse to be left behind.” - -“_En voiture, messieurs et mesdames!_” - -The guard’s command had grown imperative. The second bell had rung. - -Grey pulled out his watch. It showed thirty seconds of starting time. -O’Hara was standing at the car’s step looking anxiously towards him. -Johann was at his side, his hat deferentially raised. - -“The train is now to start, Herr Arndt,” he said. - -The man turned to the woman he loved. - -“I am going with you,” she reiterated before he could speak; and she -beckoned to Marcelle. - -“_En voiture!_” shouted the guards. - -There was no time for further protest or parley. The four crossed -the platform hurriedly. Hope entered the car, her maid following; -and then Grey, with O’Hara at his heels and Johann bringing up the -rear, stepped from the platform of the station to the platform of the -_wagon-lit_. - -The third bell rang; the locomotive whistled its piping treble, gates -clashed, doors slammed, and the Orient Express drew slowly and solemnly -out of the hot, dingy station into the red glare of the torrid June -sunset. - -After the presentation of Miss von Altdorf and Lieutenant O’Hara had -been accomplished Grey left Hope in their company and went in search -of the conductor. As it happened, there were several berths to spare -in the sleeping-car, and he arranged for the accommodation of Miss Van -Tuyl and her maid. There would be no stop, however, he learned, until -they reached Château-Thierry, at 8.15. From there, the conductor told -him, a telegram might be sent. - -Before returning to the compartment Grey lit a cigarette and stood for -a few minutes in the refreshing draft that swept through the narrow -passage. To have Hope with him was a joy undreamt, and yet he could -not repress a little uneasiness over her action. He feared that in -a calmer mood she might regret her impulsiveness as savouring too -strongly of a sensational elopement. He wondered how Nicholas Van Tuyl -would regard it. He was, Grey knew, the most indulgent of fathers, -but his anxiety over her absence would necessarily be poignant, and -there was no possible means of getting word to him of her safety until -hours after he had missed her. But in spite of these reflections Carey -Grey was experiencing a gratified pride in the fact that the girl had -acted as she had. She was proving her love for him and her faith in -him by a disregard of convention that was undeniably very flattering, -particularly grateful after his recent trying experiences, and his -affection for her, if possible, waxed warmer under the stimulus of -appreciation. - -Meanwhile the trio Grey had left to their own devices, with scarcely a -word of explanation, were getting into a wellnigh inextricable tangle. - -“Fancy my deciding to run off this way on the spur of the moment, -without even a handful of luggage,” Miss Van Tuyl had exclaimed, “but -Mr. Grey and I have so much to talk about I just couldn’t think of -waiting another twenty-four hours, and he said he couldn’t possibly -stop over another day in Paris.” - -Minna had recognised her minutes before on the platform, as the -beautiful lady she had noticed the previous afternoon at Versailles, -and she had been and was still wondering how it came about that her -Uncle Max had not seen her and spoken to her there. And now this -mention of a Mr. Grey perplexed her. Was he in another car or another -compartment? And if she had so much to say to him why had she stood -talking to another man until the train was on the point of leaving? and -why was she sitting here now instead of being with him? - -“American women are such fun,” O’Hara was saying, his cheery, ruddy -face one broad smile. “I admire them awfully. They’re so superbly -self-reliant.” - -“You’re an American, Miss Van Tuyl?” the Fräulein ventured. “Oh, of -course. It was in America, I suppose, you met Uncle Max?” - -Hope stared questioningly. - -“Uncle Max?” she questioned. “I don’t understand you. Who is----” - -“Didn’t you know he was my uncle?” the girl asked, a little embarrassed. - -“Really, I--” she began again. And then O’Hara came to the rescue: - -“Our mutual friend, Miss Van Tuyl. After all, what’s in a name? Miss -von Altdorf calls him ‘Uncle Max’ and you--what is your favourite pet -name for him? Or is it rude of me to ask?” - -“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Hope implored, addressing the fair-haired -girl beside her; “how stupid of me! Yes, of course; I met him in -America when we were both very young. You were with him yesterday at -Versailles, weren’t you? I remember you distinctly. Mr. Grey wrote me -something very nice about you.” - -“About me? Mr. Grey?” It was the Fräulein’s turn to be audibly -perplexed. - -“Yes, certainly, Mr. Grey wrote me about you.” - -“But I don’t know any Mr. Grey.” - -O’Hara laughed aloud. Should he or should he not, he asked himself, -set them right and thus end this game of cross-purposes? It was very -amusing, it appealed to his native love of fun and he enjoyed it, so -he concluded to let the play go on. - -“Why, my dear Miss von Altdorf,” Hope insisted, “do you mean to tell me -that you don’t know your Uncle Max’s name is Grey?” - -Minna’s eyes were wide with amazement. Could it be possible that her -uncle was known in the United States by another name? The supposition -was preposterous. - -“My Uncle Max’s name is Arndt,” she said, very decidedly. “He is my -mother’s brother, and my mother’s name was Arndt before she married.” - -Hope leaned back in the hot, stuffy cushions of the railway carriage, -nonplussed. This was altogether beyond her understanding. And the -Fräulein, a little nettled, but triumphant, sat looking at her with -something of pity in her great long-lashed blue eyes, while O’Hara on -the seat opposite was bent double in a convulsion of merriment. - -“I don’t really see, Mr. O’Hara,” Minna observed, rebukingly, a moment -later, “what there is to laugh over. Would you mind telling me?” - -The Irishman, who had more than a passing fondness for the girl, -pulled a straight face on the instant. - -“I’m sorry, Miss von Altdorf,” he apologised. “It’s too bad of me, -isn’t it? And I beg Miss Van Tuyl’s pardon, too. I’d like to explain -the whole blessed thing to you both, but to tell the truth, I fancy -the gentleman of the mixed nomenclature had better be after doing it -himself.” - -But when Grey arrived and the situation was laid before him, the -explanation was not at the moment forthcoming. He evaded it as deftly -as he knew how, which, if the truth be told, was not by any means to -the taste of either of the ladies. It would have been an easy matter -to clear the mystery for Hope, but he hesitated to confess to Minna, -in the presence of the others, that he had been sailing under false -colours. She was a sensitive child, and serious, and he had no relish -for inflicting the pain that his unmasking would, he knew, entail. So -he simply said: - -“Ah, that’s a long story and we’ll have it at another time. Just now I -want to know what Miss Van Tuyl is going to wire to her doting father.” - -O’Hara excused himself and went out, and Miss von Altdorf extracted a -novel from her satchel and buried herself in its pages. - -“Wire him,” Hope directed, “that I’ve gone on with you unexpectedly to -Kürschdorf to secure rooms for the royal obsequies, and that he is to -follow tomorrow night with the luggage.” - -“But he won’t get it until late tonight, you know; possibly not until -tomorrow morning,” Grey told her. - -“No, he won’t get it until after two o’clock tomorrow, at the -earliest,” she replied, smiling. - -“How do you know that?” he asked, surprised. - -“Because he went to Trouville last night to see a man,” she laughed. -“He does not leave there until nine-one tomorrow morning, and it takes -these crawling French railway trains five hours to make the journey.” - - - - -XIII - - -“Kürschdorf,” the guide-books will tell you, “is the Capital of the -Kingdom of Budavia; 118 miles from Munich and forty-nine miles from -Nuremberg. It stands on both banks of the Weisswasser, united by -the Charlemagne and Wartberg bridges, 400 yards long. Surrounded by -towering mountains its King’s Residenz Schloss, erected 1607-1642, -rises like the Acropolis above the dwellings and other buildings of -the city. The steep sides of the Wartberg (1,834 feet) rise directly -from amid the houses of the town, and it is on one extremity of the -elevation that the imposing royal palace is located, with its 365 -rooms, frescoes and statues, a ‘Diana’ of Canova, a ‘Perseus’ of -Schwanhaler, a ‘Sleeping Ariadne’ of Thorwaldsen, and casts. The -palace gardens are two miles long, and consist of a series of terraces -overlooking the Wartberg valley on one side and a fertile plain on the -other.” - -The guide-books, too, will tell you of the Königsbau, a quarter-mile -long, containing a coffee house, the Bourse, and the Concert Hall; and -of the Museum, where the chief treasures of Kürschdorf are on view -daily (10 A. M. TO 4 P. M.); and of the Hof Theatre, and of the beer -gardens. And they will give you a long and detailed description of the -cathedral, completed in 1317, with its spire 452 feet high, ascended -by 575 steps, its wonderful astronomical clock, and its great west -window. They will even tell you that the best shops are in the Schloss -Strasse, and that the Grand Hotel Königin Anna is a first-class and -well-situated hostelry. But in no one of them will you find any mention -of the most ancient dwelling house in all Kürschdorf, a quaint, dark -stone building, on the Graf Strasse, only a stone’s throw from the -Friedrich Platz and two blocks away from the Wartburg Brücke. - -At the moment Carey Grey was sending his telegram from the railway -station at Château-Thierry to Nicholas Van Tuyl, in Paris, Count -Hermann von Ritter, Chancellor of Budavia, was standing at a rear -window of this venerable Kürschdorf mansion, gazing out upon a spacious -and orderly rose garden. He was very tall and very angular. From a -fringe of silver-white hair rose a shining pink crown; from beneath -bushy brows of only slightly darker grey appeared small, keen black -eyes; and a moustache of the same colour, heavy but close-cropped, -accentuated rather than hid a straight, thin-lipped, nervous mouth. His -head was bent thoughtfully forward and his hands, long and sinewy, with -sharply defined knuckles, were clasped behind his back. - -The drawing-room in which he stood was large and square, with high -walls hung with many splendid pictures in heavy gilded frames. The -furniture was massive and richly carved. Rococo cabinets held a wealth -of curios--odd vases and drinking cups of repoussé work in gold and -silver; idols from the Orient, peculiar antique knives--bodkins and -poniards, and carvings of jade and ivory and ebony. The polished floor -was strewn with Eastern rugs of silken texture, and at the doors and -windows were hangings of still softer fabric and less florid colour and -ornamentation. - -After a little the Count crossed to a table on which stood lighted -candelabra, and taking out his watch glanced at it with some show of -impatience. Almost at the same moment a bell jangled, and very soon -after a portière was raised by a servant wearing the Court mourning -livery. - -“Herr Captain Lindenwald, your Excellency!” he announced. And the -Captain entered, saluting. - -He was flushed and somewhat ill at ease, and the Chancellor’s icy -manner as he bade him be seated was not altogether reassuring. - -“I am very much distressed over the news conveyed by your telegram,” -began the older man, when he had taken a chair at a little distance -from his visitor. “Any delay at this juncture, you must understand, is -only calculated to result in complications. Was His Royal Highness so -violent that to bring him with you was impracticable?” - -Lindenwald hesitated for just the shade of a second, his fingers -playing nervously with the arm of his chair. - -“I regarded the risk as too great,” he ventured. - -“That is no answer,” the Count returned, irritably. “I asked you if he -was violent.” - -“Yes, Count, he was,” replied the Captain, with sudden assurance. “He -was very violent at intervals. It would have been impossible to get -him here without his causing a scene at some stage of the journey and -probably revealing his identity. Besides, it was most dangerous. He was -liable to evade his watchers and throw himself from the train.” - -The annoyance of the Chancellor increased. - -“You have never heard, Captain,” he said with a sneer, “that there are -such things as handcuffs and strait-jackets.” - -“Ah, but Count,” pleaded the other, in a tone of conciliation. “His -Royal Highness! Could I put the Crown Prince to such humiliation? You -know yourself that I would not be justified. It was better, it seemed -to me, to have him safely confined in a private hospital in Paris for -the present. In a little while, perhaps, his mind will clear.” - -“What is the form of his mania?” - -“It is most peculiar,” explained the Herr Captain. “You understand, of -course, that until five months ago he had no idea whatever that he was -who he is. He was, as you have been told, a valet, but a very superior -man of his class. It is most certainly true that blood counts. He had -all the inherent dignity of birth. His mind was far above his assumed -station. All this you know. You may not have heard, though, that he was -employed by an American stock broker named Grey who one day embezzled -four hundred thousand marks and ran away.” - -“Yes,” put in the Count, “I was informed of that as well.” - -“Just so. Well,” continued the Captain, “His Royal Highness now, -strangely enough, imagines that he is Grey.” - -“Imagines that he is an embezzler?” queried Ritter. - -“Precisely. He even cabled to New York giving his Paris address, and -the United States Embassy there was for arresting him and having him -extradited.” - -“And when did this mania develop?” - -“After the death of the Herr Doctor Schlippenbach.” - -The Chancellor sat thoughtfully rubbing together his long, virile hands. - -“But I thought that this man Grey, this embezzler, committed -suicide--was drowned or something.” - -“He was,” Lindenwald assented, “at least he is supposed to be dead.” - -“It will be possible, I presume,” the Count pursued, after another -moment of meditation, “to have the present temporary regency continued -by simply proving that Prince Maximilian, the heir apparent, is alive -and mentally incapacitated, though to have had him here in the flesh -would have been far better. And now as to these proofs--I am in -possession of copies of the papers, but where are the originals?” - -The Captain shifted uneasily in his chair, and his eyes refused to meet -those of his interlocutor. - -“That is a question, Count,” he replied. - -“A question!” cried the other, surprised and annoyed. “Why a question? -Surely you are in possession of them!” - -“Alas, I am not!” - -His Excellency, his face crimson, sprang to his feet. - -“My God, Captain!” he exclaimed in a rage, “you exasperate me beyond -all bearing.” - -“I am deeply sorry, Count von Ritter,” returned Lindenwald, “but if you -will hear me for one moment you will know that I am not to blame.” - -“Excuses will not avail,” he retorted, glowering. “You are a bungler, -sir, a bungler. You have been either criminally careless in this matter -or intentionally--yes, Captain, intentionally criminal.” - -“Your Excellency!” The Captain arose with a fine assumption of anger. -“I permit no man, your Excellency----” - -The Chancellor’s lips were close pressed. His beady eyes were two -points of fire. - -“Tut, tut,” he said, “this is neither the time nor place for that -sort of thing. I am pained, distressed, mortified. From first to last -your mission has been a series of blunders. Delay has followed delay; -excuse has followed excuse; and now, at the crucial moment, comes the -climax of your incapacity. A child could have done better. Knowing the -importance of getting the Prince of Kronfeld here while His Majesty -still lived you, on one pretext and another, dawdled away week after -week in London and Paris; you permitted knowledge of the existence of -the Prince to leak out; you could not even hide your stopping place -from Hugo’s emissaries--ah, you see I am well posted--and finally you -come here not only without the heir but without the documents that are -absolutely essential to the continuance of the direct succession.” - -Lindenwald listened, cowed and speechless. After a little, however, -he spoke falteringly, while the Count, his hands behind him, strode -excitedly up and down the large, square drawing-room. - -“If you will but hear me,” he protested, sullenly, “I think--I am -indeed almost certain, your Excellency, that I can show you I am at -least not altogether to blame. The Herr Doctor was ill when he landed -in England. He was, moreover, most eccentric and most self-willed. -And His Royal Highness was of the Herr Doctor’s mind, always. For -me to make a more expeditious journey was, under the circumstances, -impossible. It appeared to me that it was the Herr Doctor’s object -to delay our arrival until after the death of His Majesty. Then, as -you know, Herr Doctor Schlippenbach died, somewhat suddenly, and the -madness of the Prince ensued.” - -“But the papers, the papers?” cried von Ritter, irritably, halting in -his walk. “What of them?” - -“The Herr Doctor never so much as showed them to me, Count. They were, -I understand, in a strong-box, of which he and Prince Maximilian had -duplicate keys. But the strong-box when we reached Paris was not -brought to our hotel. Schlippenbach seemed to think it would be safer -at the railway station. I argued with him, but to no avail. There was -a fire, you remember, at our hotel in London, and that it and its -contents were not destroyed was simply miraculous. It was that which -frightened the Herr Doctor, and he refused to risk it in another hotel. -Well, your Excellency, after his death we could find no trace of the -box. The receipt for it had disappeared. I did my utmost to locate and -secure it, but as yet I have been unsuccessful. I have tracers out, -however, and it may be discovered any day.” - -“Bah!” almost shrieked the Chancellor, irascibly, “and a throne hangs -on the slender thread of that ‘may be.’ Unless the box is found, -Captain, it will be well for you to--but it is needless for me to -suggest. You yourself know that your life, henceforth, would be not -only useless, but a burden.” - -Lindenwald’s chin dropped and his eyes sought the floor. - -“The box shall be found,” he said; but the assurance in his tone was -meagre. - -“And His Royal Highness,” continued von Ritter, “is in a sanitarium in -Paris?” - -“Yes, Count; the sanitarium of----” - -But a rap on the door cut short his answer, and the name either was not -pronounced or was drowned in the Chancellor’s stentorian: - -“_Herein!_” - -A footman handed His Excellency a telegram, and with a “Pardon me, -Captain!” he opened it. - -Years of diplomatic training had given the Count von Ritter a command -of his facial muscles that was perfect. Not by so much even as the -quiver of an eyelash did he signify the character of the tidings thus -conveyed to him. Having read the message at a glance he refolded the -paper with some deliberation, and then turning to Lindenwald again, -asked: - -“In whose sanitarium did you say?” - -“Dr. De Cerveau’s.” - -“You saw him there yourself?” - -“Yes, Count.” - -“And there is no possible chance of his escaping?” - -“None whatever, Count.” - -His Excellency took another turn to the window overlooking the rose -garden, his head bowed meditatively. Lindenwald was still standing, his -arm resting on the high back of the chair from which he had risen. - -“You are quite sure,” His Excellency pursued, when he was again -opposite the Captain, “that we need have no apprehension on that score?” - -“Quite sure, Count von Ritter.” - -Very slowly, and with a care and precision that emphasised the action, -the Chancellor again unfolded the telegram he held and extended it -towards Lindenwald. - -“Then you will, perhaps, explain to me what that means?” he said, with -a calmness that was portentous. - -The face of the Herr Captain went ashen white. He caught his breath -sharply, and his left hand gripped the chair back where a second before -his arm had rested. - - “_Am leaving this evening, Orient Express_,” he read. “_Have me - met on arrival._ ARNDT.” - -He made as if to speak, but his lips emitted no sound. - -“Well? Well?” queried the Count, impatiently. “What is it? Explain it. -That is from His Royal Highness, isn’t it?” - -“I--I--you see, I--” stammered the Captain, dazed and affrighted, “I--I -am not so sure. It may be a hoax--a trap.” - -Von Ritter’s eyes poured out upon him their contempt. - -“A hoax, a trap,” he sneered. “No, no, unless it be a trap in which -to catch a certain officer of the Army who is not so very far away. I -think, Captain, that it is useless to prolong this interview,” and he -pressed an electric button in the table under his thumb. - -Captain Lindenwald bowed, but said nothing. - -At the same moment the footman reappeared and at a signal from -the Chancellor lifted the portière, and the Captain went rather -shamefacedly from the room. - -When the Count heard the street door close he pressed the button in the -table again, and to the footman who entered he said: - -“Otto, I wish to speak to the Chief of Police. Call him up, and when -you have him on the telephone let me know.” - -He walked to the window again. The moon had risen, and the rose garden -was clad in luminous white with trimmings of purplish grey and black -shadows. - - - - -XIV - - -Passengers for Kürschdorf by the Orient Express change cars at -Munich, which, if the train is on time, is reached at 12.24 on the -day following the departure from Paris. On this particular Monday the -express was nearly forty minutes late, and, as the connecting train -was timed to start at 1.02, the transfer was of necessity accomplished -with somewhat undignified expedition. That it was accomplished at -all, however, and that the quartet, of which Carey Grey was one, was -so fortunate as to secure a compartment to itself, were subjects for -mutual congratulation. - -The journey from the French to the Bavarian capital had been rife with -explanations. To Hope Van Tuyl, Grey had made the entire situation most -clear, though he considerately refrained from revealing any feature -or incident that would tend to alarm her. In his interview with Minna -von Altdorf he had brought to bear all the tact of which he was -possessed. It was no easy matter for him, in view of his duplicity that -day at Versailles, to make her a completely veracious statement of the -facts; and it was especially difficult because of her veneration for -her great-uncle, the late Herr Schlippenbach, whom Grey could not but -regard as an egregious knave. - -She had been startled, surprised, pained, and bewildered by turns as he -told her the story, but she never once questioned the truth nor doubted -the honesty of the narrator. - -“I simply can’t understand it,” she said, with distress in her pathetic -eyes. “Why should Great-uncle Schlippenbach do such a thing? Why should -he? How could he?” - -“And I am just as much in the dark as you are,” Grey answered, -soothingly. “I have thought it over continually, and I can’t arrive at -any satisfactory conclusion. I don’t remember ever having seen him, and -why he should have selected me for this great honour--for, after all, -it is an honour to be elevated to the throne, isn’t it?” he laughed--“I -can’t imagine.” - -“We always knew he was eccentric,” the Fraülein went on. “He had -most marvellous ideas on certain subjects, but I won’t believe he was -criminal. He must have been just a little bit insane.” - -And then Grey asked her how it came that she joined the little party in -London. - -“You see, Great-uncle Schlippenbach wrote me that he was going to -Budavia and asked me if I would like to go with him and see my sister -in Kürschdorf,” she explained. “That was reasonable enough--there was -nothing insane about that, was there? My school term had just ended, -and it was a question whether I should make my home with my sister over -here or return to America with him.” - -“And he told you I was your uncle?” - -“Oh, yes. You know I have an uncle in New York. His name is Max Arndt. -That is true. And he told me that you were he.” - -Grey shook his head in token of his perplexity. - -“What became of your Great-uncle Schlippenbach’s luggage?” he asked, -suddenly, after a pause. - -“I have it with me,” the girl answered, frankly. “I shall take it to my -sister’s.” - -“Have you opened it?” - -“No. I thought that she and I would open it together.” - -“It is possible, you know, that it may contain something that will give -us a hint as to his motive in this matter,” Grey said, in explanation -of his interest. - -“Oh, I do hope so,” the Fräulein returned. “I am so anxious about it.” - -Grey was on the point of leaving the compartment, when he felt a hand -holding the hem of his coat. - -“I have just one question to ask,” said the girl as he turned. She was -not looking at him, but she still retained her hold. - -“Well?” he queried, laconically; and his voice was kindly inviting. - -“Would you mind very much if I--that is to say, may I, still, although -you are not really, but--may I go on calling you Uncle Max?” The -hesitating embarrassment of the first part of her utterance was -followed by a nervous blurting of the question in conclusion. - -“I shall feel very much hurt, Minna,” Grey answered, “if you call me -anything else.” And he took the little hand from his coat and pressed -it affectionately. - - * * * * * - -When the train for Kürschdorf arrived at Anslingen, on the Budavian -border, there was more than the ordinary delay. There was, moreover, -evidence of something unusual in the throng upon the platform and the -suppressed excitement of those composing it. Johann, who had sprung -out instantly from the third-class carriage in which he and Marcelle -were travelling--his object being to secure the passage of the party’s -luggage through the Custom House--was at once recognised and besieged -by a horde of questioners. - -“The Prince!” they cried with one accord. “You are with him, are you -not? Where is he? In which carriage? What is he like?” And he had no -little difficulty in shaking them off and attending to the business in -hand. - -By some mysterious means the report had spread, and what was at first -mere rumour had later found substantial confirmation in the discovered -presence at the station of two distinguished personages: General -Roederer, Commander of the Budavian army, and Prince von Eisenthal, -conservative leader of the Budavian Assembly; each accompanied by a -more or less gorgeously uniformed retinue. - -Grey, looking from the carriage window, noted the crowd with some -little apprehension. He glanced at O’Hara and saw that he too suspected -the cause. To the two ladies of the party nothing had been said of the -telegram addressed to the name appended to the Lindenwald despatch, and -they consequently saw less of significance in the demonstration, though -they noted the gathering as extraordinary. - -As Grey peered at the constantly increasing throng he wondered whether -his message had been ill-considered. He had, in a way, sent it blindly, -not knowing whether Ritter was an ally or a dupe of the conspirators, -and he had sent it knowing that, in either event, Lindenwald was on -the spot to take whatever ground he chose and to use whatever argument -he deemed most fitting. If the Captain so fancied he could have him -arrested on the charge of being a pretender to the throne, and would, -armed with that strong-box left by old Schlippenbach, have small -difficulty in proving his allegation. For exoneration he himself might -appeal to his Government, but as an absconding defaulter he could look -for meagre assistance from that quarter. O’Hara had told him it was -dangerous business, but he had spurned advice, and now he was face to -face with the consequences, whatever they might be. He was a trifle -nervous, his heart was beating faster than its wont, and there was a -red spot in each cheek; but even while looking on the darkest side of -the picture he regretted nothing. This crisis had to be faced in one -form or another, and he was glad the moment for facing it had arrived. - -There was a movement in the crowd a few yards down the platform. The -police were ordering the people back and clearing a lane beside the -railway carriages. Grey thrust his head from the window and saw coming -down this lane, in company with the train conductor, an army officer -in olive green uniform and black helmet. Upon his breast was pinned a -rosette of crepe, the insignia of mourning for the dead monarch. - -At the door of each first-class compartment the two men halted for -a second, asked a question and came on. But before they reached the -carriage in which Grey was waiting, Johann, who had discerned their -object, overtook them and led the way. Meanwhile, though Grey had not -spoken, his companions had, intuitively, or by some other occult means, -become aware of what was impending, and sat in breathless expectation. - -And then, suddenly, before anticipation had been quite dethroned -by realization, the officer was saluting, was being joined by his -superiors and the rest of their retinues, and Grey was standing erect -and dignified, listening to a little formal speech of welcome from the -bearded lips of Prince von Eisenthal. - -The crowd cheered lustily, of course, and cried: “God save Prince Max!” -And a band played the Budavian national anthem. After which, or rather -in the midst of which, the Prince and General Roederer entered the -compartment with Grey and his friends, their suites finding places as -best they could elsewhere, and the train, with much ringing of bells -and blowing of whistles, moved off into the valley of the Weisswasser, -its locomotive now gay with many Budavian flags and streamers of red -and white bunting--colours of the royal house of Kronfeld. - -Grey’s relief from the tension of uncertainty found expression in -an interested animation that impressed Prince von Eisenthal most -favourably. He asked many questions concerning the affairs of the -little kingdom, both political and commercial, and exhibited a concern -over the conservative policy of the late King that was especially -pleasing to the leader of the conservative forces. General Roederer, -meanwhile, addressed himself to the ladies and Lieutenant O’Hara. He -was a bluff but gallant old fellow, with ruddy complexion and iron-grey -hair, and he possessed a quaint humour that kept the little company in -gay spirits throughout the hour of the trip from the frontier to the -capital. - -“I am deeply regretful, your Royal Highness,” he said to Grey, as the -towers and spires of Kürschdorf came into view, “that we are not at -liberty to offer you such a demonstration on your arrival as I should -have liked. But His Majesty, the late King, you understand, is still -above sod, the Court is in mourning, and the Prince Regent deemed it -unfitting to give you more than the most informal of welcomes.” - -Grey bowed his acknowledgment. - -“I am glad,” he said, tactfully, “though I do not fail to appreciate -the expression of good will in your desire. The Prince Regent’s views -and mine, in this matter, are in perfect accord.” - -But, however well the ideas of the supposed heir and the Prince Regent -may have coincided, the populace was by no means of the same mind. It -is not every day that a Prince of Kronfeld arrives in Kürschdorf--not -every day that a new King comes from across the sea to take his place -as ruler of his people--and the loyal townsfolk, despite the brevity of -time between announcement and arrival, and the expressed opposition of -their temporary ruler to anything in the nature of an ovation, hung gay -banners amid the mourning drapery of their house fronts, closed their -offices and shops and turned out in gala dress and mood to crowd the -streets, the squares and the cafés. - -As the train drew slowly into the railway station Grey leaned over and -took Hope’s hand. - -“I’ll probably have to leave you for a little,” he said, regretfully, -“but O’Hara will see that you get to the hotel, and I’ll try to look in -this evening.” - -Outside the station a landau, its panels decorated with the royal arms -and drawn by six cream-white Arabian horses in glittering, gold-mounted -harness, stood in waiting, with coachman, footman and postillions in -the purple and scarlet livery of the Court; while thirty yards away, in -line along the opposite side of the Bahnhof Platz, was a troop of the -King’s Cuirassiers, their breastplates and helmets of silver and gold -glinting fiery red in the glow of the sunset. - -Cheer after cheer rang out as Grey, with the Prince on his right and -the General on his left, passed through the station, followed by the -welcoming company that had escorted him from Anslingen, and took his -place in the waiting carriage. And, as the little procession of which -he was the dominating feature wound through the boulevards and streets -of the new town and across the beautiful Charlemagne bridge over the -turbulent Weisswasser into the more ancient and picturesque quarter -of the city, the cheering, it seemed to him, grew louder and more -continuous. At one point a group of young girls in white frocks and red -ribbons ran out into the roadway to spread flowers in the path of his -equipage, and at another a chorus of a hundred students, crowded on the -balconies of a _Brauerei_, greeted his coming with a patriotic glee, -sung as only male voices of Teutonic breeding and training can sing -choruses. - -Grey’s emotions during this drive were novel and complex. There were -moments when he almost felt that he was indeed the Prince--not that any -marvellous transubstantiation had taken place, but that he had always -been so--and that all this homage, this enthusiastic applause and -adulation were his by right; and there were moments when his heart grew -sick at the fraud, the imposition, the error, and he knit his brows and -reproached himself for letting the deception go so far. - -The magnitude the affair had suddenly assumed appalled him. Heretofore -he had regarded it as a mere personal matter. He had been outraged, -his honour sullied, his life threatened, and he was justified, he -had told himself, in using every means within his power to bring -his enemies to book. But he had not perceived the possibilities of -permitting this line of investigation to run on unchecked. In a -single moment the adventure had become a matter of national import. -He was guilty now of masquerading as heir to the throne of a European -monarchy. Hitherto the crime lay at the doors of a few conspirators, -who, to serve certain nefarious ends of which he knew nothing, had -striven to secure for him the crown. In that plot he had personally -had no part. Everything had been done without his cognisance or -consent; but now it was not they alone who were forcing the scheme -to a consummation. He had, practically, for the time being at least, -joined hands with them and was passively allowing their plans to be -carried out, though fully aware of the impious character of the whole -proceeding. - -And the enormity of his thoughtless offence was at each foot of the way -made more and more apparent by these cheering masses of people. When -they should learn that they had been tricked, what explanation would -serve to assuage their resentment? Love and homage would be turned to -hatred and vengeance, and no excuse that he could offer would have any -weight against their sense of outraged loyalty. - -Then his thoughts took a new trend, and he asked himself how it was -possible that old Schlippenbach and his fellow-plotters had been able -thus to fool the conservative leaders of a great nation regarding -a matter so vital to the very existence of their most cherished -institutions as the legitimate succession to the regal sceptre. What -incontrovertible proofs had it been possible to offer in order to bring -about this ready acceptance of a man whom the Budavian people had never -seen to rule over their nation’s destinies? After all, there was where -the blame must lie. The preposterousness of the proposition, it seemed -to him, should have been apparent to the most simple-minded. - -And, as he thought, the landau, with the flashing cuirassiers galloping -ahead and behind and on either side, began the tortuous ascent of the -Wartburg by the wide, wooded avenues that wind from the palace gates -through the sumptuous royal gardens up to the imposing Residenz -Schloss on the mountain’s apex. Now and then, through rifts in the -foliage, Grey got glimpses of the vast, formidable, castle-like pile -of sombre stone perched far above him, the outline of its battlemented -towers showing sharp and clear against the pink of the sunset-tinted -sky; and it seemed to frown forbiddingly, resembling more a great -fortress at this distance than the magnificent palace it is. - -Twenty minutes later, to a musical fanfare of bugles, a clinking of bit -chains and a rattle of steel-shod hoofs on stone paving, the carriage -swept in under the great grey _porte-cochère_; the massive oaken doors -of the Schloss swung impressively inward, and Chancellor von Ritter, -in his robes of office, with a dozen attendants at his back, stood in -token of formal welcome on the threshold. - -To Grey’s immense relief, however, the ensuing formalities were of -the briefest description, and almost immediately he found himself -proceeding under the Chancellor’s guidance and direction toward a suite -of rooms in the Flag Tower that had been prepared against his coming. - - - - -XV - - -The Grand Hotel Königin Anna at Kürschdorf is much like the -Schweitzerhof at Lucerne. It stretches its long, yellow front, bordered -by a stone terrace, along the wide Schloss Strasse, on the other side -of which, shaded by four rows of leafy linden trees, is the Königin -Quai, skirting the fast-flowing Weisswasser. At one end of the Quai is -the Wartburg Brücke, and at the other the Kursaal. - -At about ten o’clock on the morning following his arrival in -Kürschdorf, O’Hara appeared on the terrace with a troubled expression -on his usually care-free face and a newspaper in his hand. The events -of the previous evening had filled him with an apprehension greater -even than that which had beset his friend. Being himself a subject -of monarchical rule, and appreciating by reason of his breeding and -environment the very serious nature of the affair, he viewed these -late developments with less leniency than would naturally temper the -consideration of a citizen of a republic, whose knowledge of the ethics -of dynasties had been gleaned chiefly from books. - -Grey, in allowing himself to be invested with royal honours, had cut -loose from O’Hara’s counsel. The Crown Prince was no longer travelling -_incognito_. He was now within the very shadow of the throne that -awaited him, and was consequently hedged in by all the formalities -of the Court. Yesterday they were able to consult as man to man on -an equal footing. Today a gulf divided them. It would be possible, -of course, for O’Hara to present himself at the Palace and crave an -audience, but it was doubtful whether anything approaching a private -consultation could be managed. The American now, oddly enough, was not -his own master. Otherwise he would have come to the hotel the evening -before, as he had planned. He belonged to the state, and, if rumour -spoke truly, he was, and had been since his arrival at the Residenz -Schloss, under the strictest surveillance. - -There was a hint of this in the paper that O’Hara carried, and the -very air was pregnant with more or less detailed gossip, sensational -in the extreme. At breakfast the Irishman had overheard a conversation -at the next table to the effect that the Crown Prince was quite mad -and had been locked in a dungeon under the Palace in the care of a -half-dozen burly wardens. Everyone was talking on the same subject. An -officer in uniform, connected with the Royal Horse Guards, was reported -to have said that Prince Max had attempted suicide on his way from -Paris, and O’Hara, knowing this to be untrue, discounted most of the -other tales as equally baseless. Nevertheless, he was very considerably -disturbed. He longed to act, but realised that his hands were tied. All -that was left for him to do was to wait with what patience he could -command until something further developed. And so he lighted a cigar -and strolled forth across the Schlosse Strasse to the Quai, where, -presently, he was joined by Miss Van Tuyl and the Fräulein von Altdorf. - -They, too, had heard the rumours with which the very atmosphere was -vibrant, and they came to him with long faces seeking reassurance. - -“Isn’t it possible to find out something definite?” Hope asked, -plaintively. “Surely there must be some authority somewhere. You are -his friend and you have a right to know. Why not go to see General -Roederer? Let us get a carriage and we will all three go.” - -“I should be only too glad, Miss Van Tuyl,” O’Hara replied, “if I -thought anything was to be gained by it; but the truth of the matter -is, you are unnecessarily alarmed. Carey is all right. Don’t you pay -any attention to these cock-and-bull stories. He has done this thing -with his eyes open, and if we go interfering we may upset all his -plans. We shall hear from him some time during the day, I feel certain. -But if we don’t I’ll see that you have the facts before you sleep -tonight. By the way, have you heard from your father?” - -“Oh, yes. I had a telegram late last night. He is on his way. He will -be here this evening.” - -“Good. Two heads are better than one, and when he arrives we’ll find -out what we want to know if we have to blow up the palace to do it. -But I really feel that we shall have tidings from His Royal Highness -before many hours.” And he laughed in his characteristic rollicking -fashion. - -“It all seems just like a dream to me,” said Minna, soberly. “I’m -completely dazed. So much has happened in the last week that I hardly -know what I’m doing. And now I shouldn’t stop here another minute, for -I’m sure my sister will be at the hotel and those stupid people will -not know where to tell her to find me.” - -“We’ll all go over and sit on the terrace,” suggested O’Hara. “The band -will be playing before long, and they tell me it is a very good one.” - -On the journey from Paris the Irishman and the Fräulein had been much -in each other’s company, and the growth of their mutual interest had -been more than once remarked by both Grey and Miss Van Tuyl. Now, as he -gazed at her fresh young beauty, there was a tenderness in his eyes, -the meaning of which there was no mistaking. Hope saw it, and when the -terrace was reached she excused herself and went inside, leaving them -together. - -“You will be going to your sister’s today, then, I suppose,” said the -soldier, when they had found places under the shade of an awning not -too close to the band stand and well away from the other loungers; in -his tone was regret. - -“Yes,” Minna answered, and her accent, too, was regretful. “Her house -is to be my home after this, you know.” - -“And there’ll be somebody that will miss you very much,” O’Hara -ventured. His eyes had grown worshipful, and the girl’s colour deepened -as she looked into them. - -“And I shall miss somebody very much,” she returned, with a tincture of -coquetry; adding, after a briefest moment, “Miss Van Tuyl is lovely. I -feel as if I had known her always.” - -“But I wasn’t speaking of her,” he protested, softly. “She’ll miss you, -I dare say; but there’s a man who’ll miss you a whole lot more--miss -you as he never thought it would be possible for him to miss anyone.” - -The girl’s eyes drooped under the ardour of his gaze, and her cheeks -flushed pinker still at his words. Her heart fluttered with an -emotion that was new to it, and that she did not quite understand. -She had experienced it once or twice before, in lesser degree, on -the train when this big, hearty, boyish fellow had--not altogether by -chance--touched her hand. It made her mute then, and now her tongue was -again for the moment tied. - -“But I am not going far,” she replied, when utterance returned; “my -sister’s place is only a mile or two out of town, and the man has told -me that he is very fond of walking.” - -“And may he come?” he pleaded, eagerly, his face suddenly alight with -the smile she had grown to regard as not the least of his attractions. -“May he?” - -“Why not?” she asked, laughing lightly. - -“Yes, why not?” he repeated, joyously. “Since he will want to see her -very much, and since she has not denied him.” - -Frau Fahler, Minna’s sister, was much older than she; a woman of -thirty-four at least, short, stout and fair-haired, but with eyes of -that deep pansy blue which was a family characteristic. She arrived -about eleven o’clock in a rather quaint-looking country wagon, and she -carried off the Fräulein almost immediately, in spite of the urging of -Hope and O’Hara that she would stop for luncheon and delay the parting -until afternoon. - -Minna was naturally loth to leave until some tidings had been received -from the Palace, but her sister had a dozen reasons for her haste, and -so it was arranged that when towards evening her luggage was sent for, -the messenger should be given whatever news had arrived. - -Hope’s anxiety meanwhile had grown with every passing minute. O’Hara’s -assurances were well intentioned, but, backed only by surmise, they -were by no means satisfying. - -“I don’t suppose he can come himself, or he would be here,” she said, -in reply to his oft-repeated explanation that a Crown Prince is not -wholly his own master, “but he certainly could send Johann or some one -with a note.” - -But the afternoon wore away without any message. On the other hand, -the rumours of the morning grew more ominous. A special session of the -Budavian Assembly had been called for that very evening. A question, it -was said, had arisen as to the legitimacy of the alleged heir apparent. -Certain members of the Royal household were reported under arrest, -charged with no less a crime than treason. The adherents of Prince Hugo -were in the highest feather. Already the more optimistic were speaking -of him as His Majesty. In the crowded cafés, the _Brauerei_ and the -beer gardens but the one subject was discussed; and the newspapers got -out special extras, which hinted guardedly at the mystery, but gave -absolutely no facts. - -At seven o’clock Hope Van Tuyl drove to the railway station and met -her father. She was nervously excited to the verge of hysteria, and -Nicholas Van Tuyl had some difficulty in piecing together her somewhat -disconnected and, it seemed to him at times, irrational statements. -Eventually, however, by dint of careful questioning he became -acquainted with the salient points of the situation; and later, at -dinner, the Irishman supplied what was lacking in important detail. - -“I agree with Lieutenant O’Hara,” said Mr. Van Tuyl, in a tone that -smacked of the judicial; “it is a very delicate problem, and one that -must be handled with the utmost care. At the same time, my dear child, -your anxiety is natural, and, though I think you have exaggerated the -seriousness of the affair, I can well understand your impatience for -facts. And facts we are going to have.” - -He smiled confidently, and his daughter’s face brightened on the -instant. - -“All the time you have been telling me your story,” he went on, “I have -been trying to think of the name of a man I met in Munich a few years -ago. He holds some high position here, and would be just the chap to -help us now. We were excellent friends, and when we parted he begged me -to come to Kürschdorf and visit him. Strange I can’t think of his name.” - -“What about the American Minister?” O’Hara suggested. - -“I doubt that he would know. Besides, under the circumstances, there’s -no use taking chances. If we told him the truth it would be a case of -out of the frying-pan into the fire. Grey is extraditable, you know. I -wonder if we could learn anything by attending this Parliament meeting?” - -“We couldn’t get in. I thought of that at once and made inquiries. It’s -an executive session.” - -Van Tuyl was silent for a minute or more, evidently deep in thought. - -“I don’t suppose you know the names of the high monkey-monks here, do -you?” he asked, presently. - -“I know a few,” O’Hara answered. “There’s Prince von Eisenthal, and -Herr Marscheim, and Count von Ritter, and----” - -“Aha!” cried the New York man, gleefully, “now you’ve hit it. Von -Ritter--Count von Ritter. He is my Munich friend. What is he? What -position does he hold?” - -“He is what they call Chancellor, I believe; but in reality he’s a sort -of Prime Minister.” - -“That’s our man, by all that’s good!” Van Tuyl exclaimed. “We’ll find -where he hangs out and call on him. And, girlie,” he added, turning to -his daughter, “you’ll know all about it in a few hours.” - -“He’ll be at the Assembly session, of course,” said O’Hara. - -“Certainly. We’ll go there and send him in a message, and I’ll bet -ten dollars to a cent he’ll come a-running. He owes me a debt of -gratitude; I put him in the way of placing a government loan at very -good figures when the Budavian credit wasn’t the best in all Europe by -any means.” - -Hope smiled her gratitude. She had great faith in her father. He was of -the type of successful Americans that do things. - - - - -XVI - - -The apartment in the Flag Tower to which Carey Grey was conducted by -Chancellor von Ritter was at the top of two flights of winding stone -stairs, and the barred windows of its four rooms commanded a view of -varied and picturesque loveliness. In the foreground were the Palace -gardens, with their series of descending terraces, their fountains and -statuary, their parterres of gay flowers, their gracefully curving -driveways and gravelled walks, and their wonderful old trees of every -shade of green leafage. Beyond the gardens were the red and grey roofs, -the spires and steeples and domes and turrets of the city, divided by -the sparkling silver-white waters of the rushing river, and beyond -these stretched the fertile valley checkered with fields of ripening -grain--yellow and orange and russet--and olive patches of woodland, and -dotted with farm houses and cottages and barns and hayricks. - -The rooms, themselves, were somewhat sombre. There was a small library, -panelled and finished in black oak; a _salon_, long and high, with -much tarnished gilt ornamentation and red upholstery; a tiny bare -dressing-room, and a bedchamber with a great canopied bedstead, beside -which stood a quaintly carved _prie-dieu_. - -“Your Royal Highness will, I trust, be comfortable here,” said the -Chancellor, when he had walked with Grey from one room to another and -the two were standing together in the long _salon_. - -The American hesitated a moment before replying. He was revolving -mentally several alternatives of action. It was his duty, he knew, not -to let this farce proceed further; and yet he had thus far learned -absolutely nothing. - -“I shall,” he said, at length, “be quite comfortable.” - -“If there is anything your Royal Highness desires,” continued the -Chancellor, “you have but to make it known.” - -The invitation arrested the whirl of indecision and settled the course -of procedure. - -“If you will be so good as to answer me a few questions, Count,” Grey -began, “I shall be indebted. Won’t you sit down?” - -Count von Ritter found a place for his angular length upon a settee -beside a pedestalled bust of King Oswald the First, and Grey sank into -a chair near by. - -“I am entirely at your Royal Highness’s disposal,” the Chancellor -avowed, amiably; and the American, not without some trepidation, it -must be confessed, began: - -“You understand, of course, that events in my career have followed one -another in the most rapid succession during the past few months; and -regarding some of the most important details I am entirely uninformed. -You will be surprised, perhaps, to learn, for instance, that I do not -know with any degree of definiteness how my identity was established. -Herr Schlippenbach was my discoverer, of course, but with whom did he -consult here and by what means was it made clear that I am really the -abducted heir of the Budavian crown?” - -Count von Ritter listened to the question with growing suspicion. -Here were, perhaps, the first indications of that insanity of which -Lindenwald had spoken. - -“It does seem hardly possible, your Royal Highness,” he replied, “that -on such a vital matter you should have been left in ignorance. It was, -I think, nearly a year ago that the first communication from the Herr -Doctor Schlippenbach was brought to me by Herr Professor Trent.” - -“And who is Herr Professor Trent?” Grey asked, quickly. - -“The Herr Professor,” answered the Chancellor, “is the head of the -University of Kürschdorf.” - -“And his reputation is, of course, beyond reproach, eh?” - -“Quite beyond reproach, your Royal Highness.” - -“And what steps followed?” Grey pursued, inquisitorially, crossing his -legs and leaning back in his chair. - -“I took up the matter personally,” the Count responded, with frankness. -“I entered into correspondence with Schlippenbach at once, and after -some months of writing back and forth he placed before me a very -circumstantial story, which he afterward confirmed with documentary -evidence--old letters, photographs, affidavits.” - -“And then?” - -“When I had thoroughly assured myself of the authenticity of all he -claimed, I brought the subject to the attention of the Privy Council, -and eventually it was laid before His Majesty. In the meantime the -Budavian Minister at Washington had been investigating, and the -Budavian Consul at New York as well. But all that, of course, you know.” - -Grey nodded, dissembling. He was studying Count von Ritter as he -spoke; noting every accent, every inflection, every expression, in an -endeavour to decide whether he were innocent or guilty. Thus far he -had been inclined to regard him as honest. It hardly seemed possible -that one occupying his position could stoop to such chicanery. And the -head of the university appeared likewise as too impregnably placed to -be open to suspicion. The Budavian Minister and the Budavian Consul, -however, he concluded could not be guiltless. - -“And how did Captain Lindenwald chance to be chosen to meet me on my -arrival in England?” he asked. - -“Captain Lindenwald,” answered the Chancellor, “is an officer of the -Royal household--he was the late King’s equerry--and he is, moreover, -the brother of our Minister to the United States.” - -Grey smiled in spite of himself. Of Lindenwald’s complicity he had -had no doubt from the first. The fact that the Budavian Minister at -Washington was his brother made it all the more probable that that -dignitary was also criminally involved. - -“Now, just one more matter, Count,” the American continued. “Can you -tell me anything of this Baron von Einhard?” - -The Chancellor shrugged his square shoulders. - -“The Baron is a supporter of Prince Hugo,” he answered. - -“That much I know,” Grey returned. “And in his loyalty to his leader he -is apt to be unscrupulous to the Prince’s opponents?” - -Count von Ritter smiled a trifle cynically. - -“I have been led to understand so,” he answered. - -“He would pay well, I suppose, to get Prince Max out of the way just at -this juncture? Is it not so?” - -“The price asked would probably not deter him.” - -“And Captain Lindenwald--But no, of course not. It is silly of me to -suggest such a possibility. You are satisfied of that officer’s fealty, -I am sure?” - -The Chancellor straightened in his seat and leaned forward with an -exhibition of concern that had hitherto been lacking. - -“You do not make yourself altogether clear, your Royal Highness,” he -ventured. “Am I to understand that you have reason to suspect that -Captain Lindenwald and the Baron von Einhard are----” - -“Pardon me,” interrupted Grey, pleased nevertheless at the awakened -interest of the Chancellor, “I did not say so. I merely asked a -question. You are satisfied of Captain Lindenwald’s entire honesty and -loyalty, are you not?” - -“The Captain,” von Ritter replied, guardedly, “has not been as eager as -I could have wished at times, but I have never regarded him as venal.” - -“Then his explanation of why he left me in Paris, without so much as a -word as to his going, and why that night an attempt was made to abduct -me by persons in the employ of Baron von Einhard--I suppose he has made -such an explanation--was entirely satisfactory to you?” - -Grey sprung the question suddenly and noted scrutinisingly the effect. - -The Chancellor’s usually immobile features gave perceptible token of -his surprise. His bushy brows raised the merest trifle, and his keen -black eyes widened. - -“His story was, I must confess, not altogether satisfactory, your Royal -Highness,” he answered, quietly; “it was, I may say, lacking in detail.” - -“I would suggest,” continued Grey, in a tone equally repressed, “that -you question him in the line I have indicated.” - -The Chancellor bowed. - -“I have to thank you,” he said, gravely. “I shall do so. That is very -certain.” - -Grey arose and Count von Ritter got to his feet instantly. The American -stood for a moment in indecision, very tall, very erect. There was no -denying that he looked every inch the Prince. Whether to declare that -he was not he hurriedly debated. Meanwhile the Chancellor was still -striving to detect the madness of which Lindenwald had spoken. To each -question he had given the most searching mental scrutiny; to each -gesture, to each intonation he had paid the closest heed, but he had -discovered practically no indication of the malady charged. With Grey’s -next utterance, however, all the fabric of his assurance fell crumbling. - -“Count von Ritter,” he said--he had been for a moment gazing out -through the window at the varied landscape now dimming with the dusk, -but as he spoke he turned and faced the Chancellor--“Count von Ritter, -I can delay no longer in confiding to you a matter so grave that I -scarcely know how to frame it in words. May I ask you to again be -seated?” And he waved his hand towards the settee from which the Count -had risen. - -The Chancellor seated himself without speaking, and Grey resumed his -place in the chair near him. - -“The reason I have asked you what I have,” continued he, speaking -slowly and with more than his usual deliberation, “is that I have -been--I was about to say astounded, but that is too weak a word--I -have been stunned and dumfounded by the proved credulity of a nation -which has the reputation, next to Russia, of possessing the most astute -diplomats in all Europe. That a government so fortified could be -tricked into placing its sceptre in the hands of an American citizen, -whose ancestry shows no trace of Budavian blood and whose antecedents -are an open book, seems out of all reason; and yet it is precisely what -you and your confrères, Count, have, as is now conclusively evidenced, -been led into.” - -Upon the Chancellor’s face was an expression which Grey could not -fathom. He was neither startled nor incensed. There was, indeed, just -the faintest suspicion of amusement in his keen black eyes, mingled -with a spirit of kindly indulgence. - -“You mean,” he said, quietly, “that you are not the heir?” - -“Most assuredly,” Grey answered, in amazement at his companion’s -inscrutable manner, “I am no more the Prince of Kronfeld than I am the -Prince of Wales. I am Carey Grey, of New York, an American born and -bred, who was drugged, hypnotised, mesmerised or what you please; made -unknowingly to commit a theft, made unknowingly to cross the Atlantic, -to travel under a false name, to attempt to usurp a title and a throne.” - -Count von Ritter’s foot tapped the floor nervously. He laced his long, -knotted fingers and unlaced them again. - -“This is a very grave matter,” he said, his voice low and steady, “and -I shall lose no time in looking into it. As you say, such a thing would -appear beyond the bounds of reason. Your Royal High--I beg your pardon! -Mr. Grey, did I understand?” And there was a humouring leniency, not -to say pity, in his tone--“you can imagine how much this statement of -yours at this late hour will involve in the way of complications.” - -“That you were not enlightened earlier, Count,” Grey continued, -“was due to my desire to learn just how far the conspiracy had been -carried. As a matter of fact, until I reached Anslingen this afternoon -I had no positive assurance that the affair had gone further than Herr -Schlippenbach and Captain Lindenwald. Of their intentions I was well -satisfied, but concerning the chances for the ultimate success of their -plans I was in the dark.” - -Again the two men stood up. - -“And now,” said the Chancellor, “as to dinner. A state banquet has been -prepared at which your--pardon me!--at which _His_ Royal Highness was -to have presided. Under the circumstances, however, I presume you would -prefer not to attend. If I may be permitted,” he added, tactfully, “I -will explain that His Royal Highness is indisposed.” - -“Thank you,” Grey acquiesced, cheerily; “that’s the better course--the -only course, in fact. Unless you can yourself join me--and I suppose -that is impossible--I’ll dine alone here. And afterward I should like a -conveyance to the Hotel Königin Anna. I have some friends there that I -must see this evening.” - -The Chancellor bowed. The next moment he was gone, and Grey crossed to -the open window and stood for a long while lost in thought. Meanwhile -the gloom deepened over the valley and the room behind him grew dark. - -He was awakened from his reverie by a rapping on the door, and in -response to his permission to enter Johann came in, followed by porters -with his luggage. Then the candles were lighted, and a little later his -dinner was served. - -Afterward he got into his evening clothes, and when he was quite ready -he sent Johann to see if the carriage he had ordered was in waiting. -But the boy returned with dismay mantling his usually placid features. - -“The carriage is not coming, your Royal Highness,” he said, with an -accent of apology, as though the fault was his. - -“Not coming?” Grey repeated in astonishment. “Why is it not coming?” - -“None has been ordered, your Royal Highness.” - -“Then order one at once.” - -“I tried to, your Royal Highness; but I was not permitted.” - -Grey’s customary calmness gave way to palpable irritation. - -“What the devil do you mean?” he asked. “Am I a prisoner here?” - -Johann’s distress increased. - -“It is not I, your Royal Highness, on whom the blame lies. Outside this -door is a guard. He will not let me pass. He will not let your Royal -Highness pass. He has orders.” - -The American strode angrily towards the door. - -“We will see,” he said, determinedly. - -Outside a soldier was standing. - -“What does this mean?” he asked, in as repressed a tone as he could -muster. “Why will you not let my man do as I bid him?” - -The sentry saluted respectfully. - -“I have been ordered by my commanding officer, your Royal Highness,” he -answered. - -“Ordered to what?” cried Grey. - -“Ordered, your Royal Highness, to permit no one to leave the Flag -Tower.” - -And he saluted again. - - - - -XVII - - -The realisation that he was a prisoner aroused in Carey Grey a spirit -of revolt. He thought that he had calculated the cost. He had foreseen -that his confession would bring about complications, and had counted on -perhaps a long and trying investigation, but he had not imagined that -he would be deprived of his liberty pending the question’s settlement. -The fact that he had been honest should of itself, he argued, have -entitled him to consideration; but his frankness had been misjudged and -his candour rewarded with punishment. - -Smarting under the indignity, he wrote a witheringly sarcastic note -to Count von Ritter, and demanded that the guard should see to its -expeditious delivery. At the end of an hour he received a brief reply: - -“The Chancellor,” it read, “regrets deeply that he is unable to aid -Mr. Grey. The Chancellor repeated his interview of the early evening to -His Highness, the Prince Regent, and it is by His Highness’s command -that the present temporary restraint exists.” - -Thereupon Grey set about devising some means of escape; but the barred -windows and the armed guard, which, he learned from Johann, was not -alone at his door but on the landings above and below and surrounding -the Tower as well, were seemingly insurmountable obstacles. He thought -of bribery, and as an entering wedge endeavoured to have a note taken -to Miss Van Tuyl, offering a sum of money out of all proportion to the -service, but the offer was phlegmatically declined. - -It was very late before he threw himself upon the great high bed in the -dingy bedchamber and tried to snatch a few hours’ sleep; and he was up -again at dawn. But if his slumber had been brief, Johann’s had even -been briefer. He had spent hours in conversation with the soldier in -the passage, and he had gathered at least one fact of interest, if not -of importance--there were other prisoners on the floor above. How many, -he was unable to learn, and of the strength of the guard he was also -uninformed. There would be a change, though, at seven o’clock, and then -it would be possible to ascertain. - -From the window of the library which was over the Tower door the -approach of the relief and the departure of the night watch could be -seen. The bars were too close to permit of a head being thrust between -them, but the barracks were at some distance from the Palace, and the -route, Johann said, lay diagonally across the uppermost terrace in -full view of this particular window. There Grey watched, and promptly -at seven, as the bell in the Bell Tower on another corner of the -quadrangle clanged the hour, a cornet sounded and seven armed infantry -men came marching over the stone pavement. That, he concluded, meant -one man on each of the three landings and four men on guard below. Not -counting the guard on the floor above, there were six against two, -and escape under these conditions appeared hopeless. If, however, the -prisoners on the floor above could be communicated with and a plan -of concerted action agreed upon there might be a fighting chance of -success. But the question was, how to reach them. The ceilings were -high and the floors thick, and to invent and execute a code of signals -by rapping would be a tedious and not at all promising undertaking. -Nevertheless Grey was more than half inclined to try it. By piling one -piece of furniture on another the ceiling could be reached readily -enough, and by giving each letter of the alphabet its number it would -be possible to hammer out words. Those above might not be able to hear -or, hearing, might not be clever enough to understand, but the American -was desperate, and, notwithstanding the odds against him, he determined -after some little consideration to make the effort. - -Upon a large table in the centre of the _salon_ he and Johann lifted a -smaller one which they brought from the library, and upon this in turn -they placed a chair. To the top of this edifice Grey climbed, armed -with a heavy walking-stick, with which he began a series of regular -and irregular blows upon the heavy oaken panelling which ceiled the -room. Having continued this for something like three minutes without -intermission, he paused in the hope of some response. But none was -forthcoming, and he repeated the signalling with increased vigour. When -he halted again there was a distinct reply--an exact reproduction, in -fact, of his rhythm--and the serious, anxious expression he had worn -gave way to one of relief, if not indeed of triumph. - -His next move was to repeat in strokes the entire alphabet, beginning -with one for A, two for B, and so on. This was a long and rather -laborious operation, but when he had finished he was given the -prompt gratification of an alert understanding from those above, -for immediately taking the cue, the answering thuds spelled out the -word “window,” and turning his glance in the direction of the barred -casement he saw hanging there, at the end of an improvised string made -of torn and tied strips of linen, a fluttering piece of paper. - -With a single bound he reached the floor, and the next instant he was -reading with eager interest the pencilled words: - -“Write what you wish to say, attach it, pull gently twice, and we will -raise it.” - -“Johann,” he cried, enthusiastically, “see this! If those fellows have -as much nerve as they have wit we’ll soon be out of here, all right.” - -And while Johann read and smiled his approval Grey sat down and wrote. - -For an hour or more questions and answers, propositions and -suggestions, went back and forth from floor to floor by means of this -novel line of communication, and by the end of that time a complete -scheme of escape with all its details had been arranged and was -mutually understood. - -There were two prisoners above--a gentleman and his man; just as -there were two prisoners below--a gentleman and his man. Who the two -gentlemen were was not asked by either. That they were guarded in -the Flag Tower was proof that their offences were political merely. -Nevertheless, the two gentlemen resented the indignity put upon them, -and both were anxious to escape. The two men were loyal to their -masters and could be depended upon to act with valour. The gentleman -above was unarmed, but the gentleman below had a revolver. The time -agreed upon for the delivery was two o’clock in the morning. As that -hour sounded from the Bell Tower the guards on their respective -floors were to be called in on some pretext, overpowered and stripped -of their uniforms, which would be donned by the two gentlemen. Their -weapons would be appropriated, likewise, and thus disguised and armed -it would be comparatively easy to make captive the guard on the first -landing. There would then remain but the four soldiers outside the -Tower, and the chances of their subduing were largely in favour of the -prisoners, three of whom would by this time be as well equipped as -the watch, while the fourth would have Grey’s revolver. The advantage -is invariably with the surprising party, and the plan was to take the -guardsmen unawares and effect their capture before they were even -conscious of attack. - -All this having been definitely decided on there was nothing to do but -wait, and the hours, for Grey at least, dragged interminably. Again and -again at intervals he rehearsed the plan with Johann, so that there -could be no possible chance of error, but this after a while grew -monotonous and he looked about for something interesting to read. The -books he found in the library, however, were not diverting. They were -for the most part historical and written in the heaviest of German; -nevertheless their very ponderousness was in a way an advantage. They -provoked somnolence, and late in the afternoon the uninterested reader -fell asleep and was so snugly wrapped in slumber when his dinner was -brought in that Johann found it a rather difficult task to rouse him. -He had slept but little the night before, and his rest on the train the -night previous to that had been broken and fitful. His nerves needed -just this repose, and when he finally awakened it was with a clearer -eye and a steadier hand. He ate heartily of the distinctively Teutonic -dishes that were provided, and when he finished he remarked to Johann -on his general fitness, indulging in an Americanism which the valet -vainly tried to interpret. - -“I feel tonight, Johann,” he said, stretching himself with arms -extended and fists doubled, “that I could lick my weight in wildcats -and paint whole townships red.” - -As the hours wore away he sat with one leg thrown over the arm of his -chair, smoking placidly and with evident enjoyment. It was not until -some time after the Bell Tower had bellowed its single note that Grey -alluded to the business of the night. - -“Everything is ready, is it, Johann?” he asked; “where are the thongs -you made from the sheet?” - -“Safe in my coat pockets, your Highness,” the youth answered. - -“Now you may bring me my revolver,” the American continued; “it is on -the cheffonier in my dressing-room.” - -The revolver was brought, and Grey examined its chambers once again -to make sure that it was fully loaded. Then, throwing the end of his -cigar through an open window, he lighted a cigarette and continued in -desultory talk with his valet. - -A few minutes before two he rose and went into his dressing-room, -which separated the _salon_ from the bedchamber. In the latter candles -were alight, but the dressing-room was in darkness. He stepped behind -the curtains, close to the wall, and stood there, silent, hidden, and -shortly from the Bell Tower solemnly sounded the hour. Simultaneously -Johann tried the door which gave from the little library on to the -landing. But it was locked and bolted from without. Then he hammered -loudly, a little excitedly; and very promptly the bolt was drawn and -the key turned. - -“Quick!” he cried to the guard, who swung open the heavy oaken -planking. “Quick! His Royal Highness is ill! I fear that he is -dying! Come!” And he started off hurriedly, the soldier following -unsuspectingly. - -In a second the little comedy was played. At the entrance to the -dressing-room Johann stepped back and the guardsman went in ahead, to -find his arms caught in a flash from behind by Grey and held hard and -fast in spite of his struggles, while Johann slung about his wrists -the heavy linen thongs and knotted them with deft and muscular hands. -Meanwhile the fellow was kicking and stamping viciously, but, barring -a barked shin for Johann and a bruised toe for Grey, the effects were -not material. And, once his arms were bound and the glittering barrel -of the revolver brought to his attention, his rebellion ceased. Then -Johann bound his feet as well, having first marched him into the -bedchamber and compelled him, protesting, to stretch himself upon the -high, old-fashioned bed. - -Grey was in the act of unbuckling the captive’s belt when a pistol -shot, muffled but unmistakable, echoed from overhead, and he stopped, -breathless, just as a hoarse shriek split the silence which for an -instant followed the report. The door from the library to the landing -had been left open, and from that direction now came a scuffle of feet -on stone, mingled with a succession of crashing, thumping, jolting -noises, alarmed shouts and angry imprecations. - -Through the three connecting rooms Grey dashed, revolver in hand and -with Johann close at his heels. The lantern the guard had left on the -landing had been knocked over and was out, but by the light from the -open doorway they at once discovered the huddled, distorted body of -a man, whose groans added to the bedlam of hurrying feet and excited -voices from below and oaths, cries, and sounds of struggle from above. - -And as they looked there came bounding down the stairs, by jumps of -a half-dozen or more steps at a time, another figure, followed by -futile shot after shot from rapidly belching revolver and rifle. The -fugitive’s feet landed on the groaning, doubled heap on the landing, -and that he did not stumble to his death was a miracle. But he kept -his balance, flashed by down the next winding flight, and, striking -the first of the ascending guards, toppled him backwards against his -followers. - -For the space of a heart-beat Grey and Johann paused, staring at each -other. In that instant of his passing both had recognised the fleeing -prisoner. It was Captain Lindenwald. - -And then, as they stood inert, the guard from above, his rifle still -smoking, reached the landing, tripped over the crumpled body and went -staggering, lurching, clutching at the air, towards the confusion below. - -The moment for action had now come; and Grey, calm and collected in -spite of the flurry of events, motioning to Johann to follow, ran -swiftly down the stone stairs, which, once they were out of the meagre -glow from the library, grew dark as Erebus. The struggling, swearing, -wriggling mass blocked the way at the next landing, but Grey and -the lad, guided by the sounds, were not taken unawares. They were, -moreover, for the moment on their feet, which no one of the others -was; and though they were caught by desperate hands and more than once -dragged to their knees, their clothing torn and ripped, their hands -scratched, and their arms and legs wellnigh disjointed, they kept their -wits and gained the last flight of steps without serious injury. - -Down this they veritably hurled themselves, and with no further -impediment to delay them reached the open door of the Tower and dashed -out onto the stone flagging of the upper terrace, into the brilliant -starlight of the early morning. - -“So far, so good,” said Grey, inhaling deeply of the cool, clear air; -and catching Johann’s sleeve he pulled him back into the shadow of the -buttress. “But,” he added, “we are not free yet, are we? The gates of -the Palace Gardens are locked at night, I suppose.” - -“Yes, your Royal Highness,” the youth answered. - -“Never mind that Royal Highness business now, Johann,” he directed; -“Herr Arndt will do for the present. I’m no more a Royal Highness than -you are.” - -“Yes, Herr Arndt,” acquiesced Johann, imperturbably, without change of -tone, “and the walls are very high.” - -“Nevertheless, we had better move on in the direction of some exit,” -Grey advised, in a whisper; “it won’t do to stop here. They may come -rushing down on us at any minute. You know the way; you lead.” - -Johann started off to the right, hugging the Tower walls, and Grey -followed. At a distance of fifty yards they came to a clump of -shrubbery, into which the younger man plunged with Grey still close -behind. Through this a gravelled path led into a wood, under the trees -of which they walked in silence for at least a quarter of an hour, -their course one of gradual descent. - -“Without our hats we’ll be suspicious figures in the streets of -Kürschdorf,” Grey observed, despondently, as they came out upon a -driveway, “and our recapture is certain. After all, I don’t see that we -have gained a very great deal. The gates won’t be open till morning, -and by that time, if we are not captured inside, every exit will be -guarded against us. Are the walls too high to scale?” - -“Yes, Herr Arndt,” answered Johann, respectfully, but he did not -slacken his pace. - -“What do you propose, then? Come, now, this is serious. You know every -inch of ground here, don’t you? Is there no way we can get out?” - -“Yes, Herr Arndt,” came the stereotyped answer. - -“There is? Then why didn’t you say so? How? In God’s name, Johann, how?” - -The youth halted and turned. - -“At the head gardener’s is a long ladder,” he answered; “we are going -to the head gardener’s, Herr Arndt.” - -At the head gardener’s they very shortly arrived. Johann’s familiarity -with the place was now more than ever evident. Without hesitation -he entered one of the larger greenhouses, the door of which stood -invitingly ajar, and, though it was quite dark within, he very promptly -laid his hand upon a ladder which lay stretched against the wall to -the right of the entrance. Having thus assured himself that it was in -its usual place, he groped to the left and from a row of pegs there -secured two hats; one of green felt and the other of dark straw, soiled -and dilapidated, it is true, but in the present strait of the fugitives -of inestimable value. - -The high wall of the garden was, it subsequently developed, but a -stone’s throw distant, and the work of carrying and placing the ladder, -climbing to the coping and springing over onto the border of soft turf -without was a matter of a very few minutes. - -“And now,” said Grey, as with the faded and stained green hat upon his -head he stood looking up and down the dark, silent street, “where are -we to go? Our presence at a hotel would simply invite detection. It is -too early for me to call on the American Minister. All of your usual -haunts will be searched before sunrise.” - -“The sister of the Fräulein von Altdorf,” suggested Johann, “to whom -the Fräulein herself was going, lives in the country, about two miles -away.” - -“You know where?” cried Grey, delightedly; “you can find it?” - -“I know it well,” answered the youth; “at the next farm I was born, -Herr Arndt.” - -“Then we will go there, by all means.” - -And they set off walking rapidly through the narrow side streets of the -old town to the bridge of Charlemagne, and thence across the river, and -on through the wider avenue of the new city out into the silent lanes -of the sweet-scented suburbs. - -Both were busy with their thoughts and neither was inclined to -conversation. After twenty minutes’ trudging, however, Grey asked: - -“Do you suppose that fellow on the landing will die, Johann?” - -“That fellow?” repeated the valet, “which, Herr Arndt? Do you mean -Lutz?” - -“Lutz!” exclaimed Grey, surprisedly, “was Lutz there?” - -“Of a certainty, Herr Arndt. Did you not see his face? It was Lutz who -lay outside our door.” - - - - -XVIII - - -The rumoured meeting of the Budavian Assembly proved, like many other -rumoured events, to be a canard, the only foundation for which was a -hastily called session of the Privy Council. Before this august body, -over which the Prince Regent presided, Chancellor von Ritter laid -all the facts that had come into his possession; and very startling -facts they were, including a confiscated letter from Baron von -Einhard addressed to Captain Lindenwald, telling of the failure of -the abduction plot and of the securing of that precious heirloom, the -signet ring of the Prince of Kronfeld. - -This communication gave indubitable proof that Lindenwald had been -false to his trust, and it fully justified the Chancellor in having him -placed under arrest. It did not tend, however, to throw any light on -the mystifying main question. Was the man who had been welcomed with -such acclaim on the previous evening really the Crown Prince, as every -bit of evidence up to the time of his arrival tended to prove, or was -he, as he claimed, simply the cat’s-paw of a company of conscienceless -conspirators? - -The von Einhard letter would in a way indicate that his title was -clear and genuine, as, had it been otherwise, there would have been no -necessity to conspire with Lindenwald to bring about his abduction. -Yet, if Lindenwald knew him to be the Crown Prince, why should he -run the risk of dickering with the Baron, seeing that greater good -fortune than he could possibly hope to earn by such a course lay in the -direction of his faithful carrying out of his mission? - -Upon these points the Privy Council debated long and eagerly, if not -altogether wisely. Men are slow to confess even to themselves that -they have been imposed upon, and the State Council had months before -by an overwhelming majority declared its faith in the integrity of -the claimant. It was, therefore, no more than to be expected that -the majority should still favour the theory that Prince Max, in his -assertion that he was simply a plain American citizen, was labouring -under an hallucination. There had been a strain of dementia in the -ruling line for seven generations, and this exhibition of mental -malady was to those who now recalled the fact but another evidence of -legitimacy. - -On the minority who were known to be partial to Prince Hugo the proof -of von Einhard’s treachery served as an effective gag. They could not -afford to imply sympathy for such conduct by opposition to the ruling -notion; and so it happened that, while every phase of the question was -discussed with much earnestness, there was ever an underlying sentiment -that promised but one conclusion--the unqualified endorsement of the -fancied unfortunately demented young Prince in the Flag Tower. - -As the session was approaching its close, a card was brought to Count -von Ritter. The Chancellor, however, deeply interested in the speech -of the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, which was then in progress, laid -it on the table before him without adjusting his glasses to read it, -and had it not been for the dullness of the speech of the Secretary -of War which followed, the session would probably have come to a vote -and adjourned before he gave it heed. But as it chanced, bored by the -prosiness of the speaker, he took up the piece of pasteboard, placed -his _pince-nez_ on the bridge of his nose, and read the name: “Mr. -Nicholas Van Tuyl,” with a pencil scrawl beneath: “Your friend of -Munich and the Monterossan War Loan.” Whereupon he arose instantly and -tip-toed from the Council Hall into the ante-room adjoining, where Van -Tuyl and O’Hara were with some impatience waiting. - -Their reception by Count von Ritter was cordial in the extreme. The -sentiment of the Council had served to lift a load from his shoulders, -and he was in fine good humour. - -“Remember you!” he cried, wringing Van Tuyl’s hand, his small eyes -alight, “of course I remember you; and my debt to you, too--Budavia’s -debt to you. Why, my dear sir, you should have had a decoration. The -late King was very remiss in not sending you one. But we will do what -we can to make up for it.” - -“Ah,” returned the New York banker, “you are very good indeed, Count, -and I am going to hold you to your word. Lieutenant O’Hara and I have -come for something this evening--something we want very much, and -something I feel sure you can give us.” - -The Chancellor bowed and stretched forth his hands with palms upturned -and open, in signal of his willingness to give. - -“What we desire,” continued Nicholas Van Tuyl, smiling his recognition, -“is information. There are many sensational reports abroad, as you -probably know; but we men of finance are in the habit of discounting -unverified rumours. We are not credulous. We want facts with an -authority to back them up. We want confirmation or denial.” - -Von Ritter’s geniality was still fervent. - -“You wish to know, for instance--” he invited. - -“We wish to know, Count, whether there is any basis for the story that -His Royal Highness, Prince Maximilian, is being restrained of his -liberty.” - -The Chancellor smiled a little patronisingly. - -“Do they say that?” he asked. - -“That is the least they say,” Van Tuyl returned. - -For a moment Count von Ritter hesitated. - -“May I, without discourtesy, inquire why you are interested?” he -questioned. - -“We are interested,” answered the New Yorker, promptly, “because he is -our personal friend. I have known him for years, and Lieutenant O’Hara -here has been with him, he tells me, continually from the day he left -America.” - -The three were still standing; but now the Chancellor motioned his -visitors to be seated. - -“You in turn interest me,” he said, as he took a chair and sat down -facing them. “How long, Mr. Van Tuyl, have you known him? For how many -years?” - -“Ten at least,” was the answer. “He came down to the Street when he was -twenty. He was with Dunscomb & Fiske in 1893, I remember.” - -“The Street?” repeated the Count, questioningly. - -“Yes, Wall Street. You knew he was a Wall Street stock broker, didn’t -you?” - -The Chancellor paled perceptibly, his eyes widened a trifle and the -straight line of his lips narrowed under his close-cropped moustache. - -“Yes,” he returned, diplomatically, after an instant’s pause. “Yes. His -name, I think, was Grey, was it not?” - -“Grey. Yes, Carey Grey.” - -Count von Ritter cleared his throat and then for a moment he sat in -silence, his lids half-closed, his mouth tight-drawn. When he spoke it -was very seriously, with a changed demeanour. - -“Budavia has still more for which to thank you, Mr. Van Tuyl,” he said, -rising. - -The New York banker and the Irish lieutenant also stood up. It was -evident to both that a blunder had been made. - -“I don’t just see for what,” said the older man, a little nervously. “I -haven’t told you anything you didn’t know. I didn’t come here to tell -you anything. I came to have you tell me something.” - -“I think,” replied the Count, with an urbanity that was the acme of -trained diplomacy, “that you said just now you came here to confirm a -rumour, or words to that effect. You have, my dear sir, confirmed it. -And now I must ask you to excuse me. You are at the Königin Anna, I -suppose? I shall have the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow.” - -The Chancellor bowed, smiling, and before Van Tuyl could remonstrate -had disappeared into the Hall of Council. And then it was that O’Hara -for the first time found words. - -“Well, I’m damned!” he said. And he said it with emphasis. - -Meanwhile the Colonial Secretary had finished his wearying oration -and the Prince Regent had suggested the advisability of adjournment. -But the return of the Chancellor, craving the privilege of the floor, -awakened a new interest. His usually immobile face was portentous in -its marked gravity, and when he spoke every ear was alert. - -“Your Highness,” he began, addressing the Prince Regent, “I am come to -cry ‘Pause!’ I have listened to and taken part in a debate this evening -the sole purpose of which, as I regard it now, has been to accomplish -our own convincing. We constructed a theory upon a basis as unstable -as the sands of the sea, and then marshalled arguments of straw to -effect its establishment. In the whole history of Budavia I know of no -incident of parallel puerility. We call ourselves statesmen, and we -have acted with the confiding innocence of children. We gambolled like -foolhardy lads blindfold upon the brink of a precipice, over which, -had not a miracle intervened, we must have fallen into the slough of -ignominious dishonour. Even as it is the smirch of its miasma is upon -us, and we cannot escape the ridicule that is entailed. - -“Our supposed mad Prince Maximilian of Kronfeld, now so carefully -guarded in the Flag Tower, your Highness, is, I make bold to announce, -a perfectly sane American gentleman and nothing more.” - -The Prince Regent leaned suddenly forward, his hands clutching the arms -of his chair. The other members of the Council stirred, changed their -positions; two of them got onto their feet. But the Chancellor still -standing, the Prince Regent motioned them back to their places, and the -speaker continued: - -“In the chain of evidence I have, within the past five minutes, found -a broken link. The statements made to me by the supposed heir have, -in one important particular, been verified to my entire satisfaction, -and these statements were, as you know, at utter variance with what we -had been led to believe was the truth--in direct contradiction to the -alleged proofs of royal birth.” - -“But, your Excellency,” protested the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, -rising again, “is not this simply jumping from one conclusion to -another?” - -The Chancellor frowned grimly. - -“At first glance,” he replied, resting the tips of his long, knotted -fingers on the table between them, “it may appear so. But a chain is -only as strong as its weakest link, and this link, as I have stated, -has been shattered into infinitesimal atoms.” - -Count von Ritter spoke for fully an hour. He reviewed the affair from -the beginning, detailing every step in the building up of the fabric -and demonstrating with marked effect how a single pin-prick had brought -about its total collapse. The pretender--if he could be so called in -view of the fact that he personally had laid no claim to the throne, -but, on the other hand, had of his own free will protested against the -honour they would have forced upon him--should be quietly deported, and -as expeditiously as possible arrangements effected for the coronation -of Prince Hugo. The detection and punishment of those involved in the -plot to steal the crown must be brought about with all the secrecy -possible. Already two of the conspirators, he announced, were under -arrest, and the apprehension of others would speedily follow. - -It was long after midnight when the Council adjourned, and the -Chancellor returned to his ancient mansion on the Graf Strasse. Rest -for him, however, was not yet to come. Upon the writing table in his -library were many State papers demanding his attention, and, aided -by his secretary, who had been awaiting his home-coming, he went -systematically to work to clear away the more important before retiring. - -At a quarter past two he threw down his quill and leaned back in his -chair with a yawn. - -“That will do for tonight, Heinrich,” he said, kindly, “I’m sorry to -have had to keep you up so long.” - -And as he spoke the telephone rang long, loud and viciously. The -secretary put the receiver to his ear, and answered into the -mouthpiece. The Count rose and stretched himself. It was unusual -for the telephone to ring at that hour, and he wondered, watching -Heinrich’s face. He saw the young man’s chin drop and his eyes suddenly -grow round. - -“Your Excellency!” he exclaimed, excitement in his voice. “Your -Excellency! Listen! The Crown Prince has escaped from the Flag Tower, -together with his servant and Captain Lindenwald. And the Captain’s -man has been shot, seriously--they think fatally. One of the guards -was found bound in His Royal Highness’s apartment. Another guard has a -broken leg, and three others are slightly injured.” - - - - -XIX - - -The following day was rife with revelations. Grey and Johann had -arrived at the farmhouse of Herr Fahler before cock-crow and had been -greeted first with a yelping of dogs and then by a cheery, if somewhat -sleepy, welcome from the master of the house, to whom Minna had told -the whole wonderful story. Johann he had recognised at once, and he had -suspected the identity of his companion at sight. From a great cask in -the corner of the big living-room he had drawn them foaming beakers of -beer, and from a cupboard had produced for their further refreshment -some cold meat and dark bread. And as they ate and drank, Frau Fahler -had appeared to add her welcome to her husband’s, and a little later -the Fraülein, with rosy cheeks fresh from slumber and wearing the most -becoming of negligées, had enthusiastically thrown her arms about -Grey’s neck and mingled tears of joy with her smiles over “Uncle -Max’s” deliverance. - -At daybreak the fugitive Crown Prince wrote a note to Hope, telling -her of his flight and his place of refuge, and one of the farm hands -was despatched with it to the town. Then Minna suggested that the two -refugees needed rest, and was for sending them to bed for a few hours’ -sleep, but Grey protested and Johann blankly refused. - -In the American’s mind one desire was now dominant--to see the -contents of the late Herr Schlippenbach’s luggage, among which, he -was impressed, he would find some clue to the mystery--some evidence, -perhaps, that would make clear what was still the most perplexing of -enigmas. Whether this impression was born of hope, merely, or whether -it was inspired by some psychic manifestation cannot be demonstrated -and is not material; but, as the discoveries of the day proved, it was -well founded. - -After the family breakfast, which was served early, Minna took Grey -to an upper room where were the three boxes of her great-uncle, and -producing the keys a thorough search was made of the dead man’s -effects. In one box were his clothes, in another relics of his family, -and in the third a small library of books and manuscripts, with many -bottles and jars and boxes, wrapped in straw and packed with consummate -care to guard against breakage. - -The books for the most part bore on one subject--phrenology. Nearly -every known work treating of it was included in the collection. There -were the early writings of Dr. Franz Joseph Gall and his pupil, -Dr. Spurzheim; there were the discoveries of George and Andrew -Coombs and of Dr. Elliotson, and the lectures of that earliest and -ablest of American phrenologists, Dr. Charles Caldwell, and of the -later disciple, Fowler. All of these bore many annotations, marked -paragraphs, underlined sentences and marginal comments. Here and there -were inserted pages of closely written manuscript, recording the -results of Schlippenbach’s personal observation--cases that had come -under his notice and to which he had given infinite study. From these -it was very soon made apparent to Grey that the late Herr Doctor had -ideas distinctively his own. While he accepted many of the conclusions -of the earlier apostles of the creed he went a step further, and -believed that character could be formed and developed by the systematic -physical building up of certain portions of the mental structure -and the depression of other portions. This, he claimed, was best -accomplished by magnetic stimulation and absorption. Positive magnetic -currents stimulated and nourished, while negative currents degenerated -and destroyed. - -He had conceived this theory, his writings made clear, while tutor at -the Budavian Court, and had presumed to experiment on the infant Crown -Prince. At that time he had kept a journal in which he made entry, -briefly and roughly, not only of his scientific accomplishments, but of -incidents bearing in any way on his career. This journal was secured by -a lock, but Minna and her sister not merely consented to its breaking, -but insisted upon it. And here was found the long and well-kept secret -of the writer’s quarrel with Queen Anna and the abduction of the young -heir apparent. Her Majesty having been informed of the tutor’s novel -methods of mental development had commanded their cessation so far as -her infant son was concerned; and the tutor’s departure from the Court -was only a part of the outcome. The journal revealed the fact--though -it was not stated in so many words, and to those unfamiliar with -Budavian history the entries might have meant nothing--that the tutor -was, if not personally the abductor of the young sprig of royalty, -certainly an important factor in the abduction, his object being not so -much to avenge himself on Queen Anna as to gather the results of the -experiments he had been engaged in from the child’s earliest infancy. -There was no direct mention, either, of the little fellow’s death, -but the absence after a few months of entries concerning him was good -ground for the belief that he did not long survive his arrival in -America. - -Package after package of letters from Professor Trent showed that from -the time of Schlippenbach’s emigration up to almost the immediate -present he had been in correspondence with the head of the University -of Kürschdorf. In view of what Count von Ritter had told him, the more -recent of these letters were to Grey of paramount interest, and he -read them with careful attention, and especially one in which appeared -the following paragraph: - - You can fancy the surprise, not unmixed with joy, with which I - read your letter of the twenty-fifth of August. The fact that - the heir to our throne is still alive and where you can lay your - hands upon him seems a wonderful dispensation of an all-wise - Providence; for in the event of His Majesty’s death--and he - has been for two years a terrible sufferer from an incurable - ailment--the crown must otherwise go, as you know, to that prince - of scapegraces, Hugo. I have given your communication to the - Chancellor, and you will doubtless hear from him in the near - future. Fancy our future King, all unmindful, serving in the - capacity of a valet! Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. - -Subsequent letters gave hints here and there of the progress of the -investigation, which, it seemed, was conducted with no little secrecy. -From these it appeared that Schlippenbach had had many interviews -with the Budavian Minister at Washington and the Budavian Consul at -New York, but that the person of the pretended Crown Prince was not -revealed to them until some time in March, by which date, or, in -fact, as early as January, he had become a member of Schlippenbach’s -household in Avenue A. Of his removal from where he was supposed to -have been in service to the home of the old Herr Doctor, Professor -Trent wrote: - - And you have not told him yet, you say, of the honours that are - his. All through this I can see the Divine Hand. The embezzlement - and disappearance of his employer offered just the opportunity - you desired to have him with you. You can now, by degrees, fit - him--gradually prepare him, I mean--for the high estate which is - his inheritance; whereas had he continued in his employment such - a procedure would have been hedged around with difficulties. I - am glad you set me right in the matter of names. I knew that he - had gone by the name of Lutz; and I could not understand who this - other Lutz was. You say he is his foster-brother, the son of the - woman who reared him. I think it wise to have him take another - name for the journey over here; and your idea of having him pose - as your nephew, Arndt, is capital, provided, of course, there is - none of your nephews’ friends or acquaintances coming on the same - steamer. - -The insight which these letters gave to Grey only served to whet his -appetite for additional detail. Many of the revelations were startling, -some of them in a way amusing, yet the general impression they made -was not of the cleverness of the schemers but rather of their want of -skill, their rash indiscretion, their apparently laboured complication -of things, which by very reason of the resultant network offered -unnecessary loopholes for discovery and frustration. In this he found -proof of Schlippenbach’s lack of balance, which he was charitable -enough to consider the result of mental derangement. He was not so much -a knave, he told himself, as he was a maniac. - -From Kürschdorf the news had come to him that the King was going to -die. He remembered then, possibly with a stricken conscience, that he -was partly if not wholly responsible for the fact that His Majesty -would leave no son to succeed him. If at this juncture he were able to -produce the heir, what might he not expect in the way of honours? But -the Crown Prince was dead and therefore not producible. - -Grey could read very clearly between the lines of the story as it -was opened up to him, and he perceived the birth just here of the -temptation to produce the heir to the throne by constructing a replica -of the deceased Maximilian. Had he been going about such a business -himself, he would probably have chosen some conscienceless fellow to -personify the departed one. But with Schlippenbach his science was -always pre-eminent. As, years before, he had endeavoured by means of -this to build up from the real infant heir a prince that should meet -his views of what a prince should be, so now he chose to make, from a -young man possessed of certain fitting physical and mental attributes, -a prince to order. - -The raw material must be tall, erect and of dignified bearing, of -intelligence and education. The Crown Prince had been dark-eyed, but -flaxen-haired. To secure this latter natural combination was not easy. -But while his knowledge of chemicals left him powerless to change blue -eyes to brown, his familiarity with the potency of peroxide of hydrogen -made it quite possible for him to change black hair to blond. And so he -set about finding a gentleman of the desired type. Daily he must have -passed hundreds on the street, but seeing them and getting them within -the radius of his ministration were two different things. In his circle -of acquaintances he knew of no one that would answer. But from one of -his acquaintances, Lutz, the valet, he had heard much of the valet’s -employer, and the valet’s employer evidently seemed to him to be very -nearly what he required. - -All this Grey gathered by the very simple process of logical reasoning -from what he found in Herr Schlippenbach’s books and papers. But there -was much still which by no method of inference could he satisfactorily -explain. - -In the examination of the contents of the boxes Minna was deeply -interested, and with her Grey discussed each and every significant -paragraph and passage. They were still busy exchanging views when, -towards five o’clock in the afternoon, the sound of carriage wheels on -the driveway below drew the Fraülein to the open window. - -“Oh, dear,” she cried, joyously, “it’s Miss Van Tuyl and Mr. O’Hara and -another gentleman. Come, we’ll go down and meet them.” - -But Grey was not altogether pleased. In his note to Hope he had warned -her that it would not be safe for her or anyone to visit or communicate -with him until events shaped themselves one way or another. It being -known that she and O’Hara had come to Kürschdorf with him they would -probably be watched with a view to discovering his whereabouts. Seeing -that he had sent this caution it was, he thought, most inconsiderate -of them to disregard it. But he got up from his seat on the floor -and went downstairs with Minna, nevertheless; and in spite of his -momentary annoyance there was only gladness in his eyes when they fell -upon the brown-eyed, white-clad girl in the victoria, whose face was -radiant with the joy of seeing him again and the good news that she -was bringing. For she had not disobeyed, after all. Events had already -shaped themselves, as her father’s little speech--once introductions -were over and they were all seated in the big square living-room--very -definitely proved. - -“I’m more than glad to see you, Carey, my boy,” Nicholas Van Tuyl had -exclaimed, gripping Grey’s hand with a cordiality that was stimulating, -“I’m delighted; and I’m happy to be the one to bring you the best news -you have had in a long while.” This had been said outside, and it had -filled Grey with delicious expectancy. What followed, however, was even -better than he imagined. - -“Not an hour ago,” began the New York banker, “I had a call from your -friend, Chancellor von Ritter. I know him, met him in Munich years ago, -and went to him last night to get the truth about your imprisonment. -He wouldn’t tell me anything then, but I told him enough, it seems, to -upset the whole Privy Council and put a scapegrace on the throne of -Budavia. However, that’s only by way of introduction. This afternoon -he called on me at the hotel, and told me a good many things that -the great and glorious Budavian public will never know. He told me, -for instance, how the Government had been fooled and how now it was -going to get out of its predicament with as good a grace as possible. -He told me all about your escape last night, and how you had done -the very thing that he could have most wished. One of the problems -that confronted him was how to get rid of you without revealing the -Government’s error. Now that you have taken the matter in your own -hands, that question is answered. All he hopes is that they’ll never be -able to find you; and they won’t--because they are going to shut their -eyes and not look.” - -Grey laughed, and the rest of the party joined in. - -“This diplomacy reminds me of a French farce,” remarked O’Hara. “The -actors who really know it all better than anyone else are apparently -the only ones who cannot see what is perfectly palpable to the -audience.” - -“If I were you,” Van Tuyl continued, “I’d shave off that beard and -moustache at once; that will make their dissembling appear a little -bit real. And then I’d get out of town just as soon as I could make it -convenient. Not that there would be any danger from the Government as -it now stands, but with Hugo and his followers in command you can’t -tell what might happen overnight.” - -Grey nodded. - -“Yes,” he agreed, smiling, “I think you’re right. I won’t stop for the -royal obsequies. It may seem disrespectful to my late sire, but now -that I have my wings back I feel like using them.” - -“I never did care much for funerals,” added Nicholas Van Tuyl, “and so -Hope and I will go with you.” - -O’Hara’s eyes were fixed on Minna, who was gazing pensively at the -white-scrubbed floor. - -“I think I’ll stop,” he said, a little seriously. “You won’t need me, -Grey, and I’d like to look over the Budavian military, which will be -out in force.” - -The Fraülein’s gaze was lifted and her eyes for an instant met those -of the Irish lieutenant. In them he read the answer he craved to the -question his heart was asking. - - - - -XX - - -Grey had set apart the books and papers that had to do either directly -or indirectly with his case, because he saw in them a circumstantial -defence to the charges which were still hanging over him at home. To -his use of them for this purpose Minna and her sister gladly consented, -and so when that evening, after having been cropped and clean-shaven by -Johann, he bade the little household good-bye and was driven into town -to the Grand Hotel Königin Anna, he carried this evidence with him. - -It was, as has been observed, a day rife with revelations. The -discoveries of its daylight hours were of incalculable value, but the -disclosures reserved for the night were of even more consequence. The -train that afternoon had brought from Paris a large company of visitors -intent upon viewing the pomp and panoply of a royal funeral, and among -them were the remaining members of that gay little dinner party at -Armenonville the week before. - -The Van Tuyls ran into them at the hotel on their return from the -Fahler farm, and Hope immediately had an inspiration. - -“I’m going to give a dinner tonight,” she said, “just the most informal -sort of a dinner in our _salon_. And I want you all to come. It doesn’t -make any difference whether you have your trunks or not. You are not -expected to dress. I’m going to treat you to a surprise.” - -The women were all curiosity on the instant and showed it. The men -accepted politely, but declared that the hostess was attraction -sufficient. - -Hope had made the proposition on impulse, and it was too late to draw -back when she caught her father’s disapproving eye. - -“I’m not at all sure,” he commented, once they were alone, “that this -thing is wise. Carey isn’t yet out of the woods, and the story of his -alleged embezzlement and all that is too fresh to have been forgotten. -Explanations at a dinner party aren’t pleasant things. We know he is -innocent, but you don’t want to put him on trial before a jury of your -guests.” - -But Hope was staunch in her loyalty. - -“Our verdict will be sufficient,” she answered, bravely. “If I had -stopped to think of all you say I probably shouldn’t have asked them, -but as it is I’m glad I did it. It clears the situation at once. They -must know from my having promised to be his wife and your having given -your consent, that he is innocent.” - -Nicholas Van Tuyl shrugged his shoulders. - -“Perhaps,” he replied, a little doubtfully, “perhaps; but, my dear -girl, don’t hint at the Prince business. The Fahlers will keep their -mouths closed for the sake of their dead relative, but no injunction of -secrecy would still the tongues of Mrs. Dickie and Lady Constance.” - -Hope demurred. - -“It’s such an interesting story,” she protested, “and I am a woman!” - -“But the Government here does not want it to get out.” - -“And I’d like to know what we owe to the Government,” the girl -inquired. “I don’t want to be disobedient, father dear, but I can’t -promise to control myself under provocation.” - -Again Mr. Van Tuyl shrugged his shoulders. His daughter was his idol -and he was as yarn in her hands. - -When Grey arrived and was told of the plan, he received the tidings -somewhat ruefully. He complained that his trunks were still at the -Residenz Schloss, and that, in the torn and bedraggled raiment he was -wearing, to pose as the object of interest at a dinner party, no matter -how informal, was apt to be a little trying, to say the least. But -O’Hara, who had driven into town with him, came to the rescue. He and -Grey were very nearly of a size, and as he was the fortunate possessor -of two evening suits he promptly placed one of them at Grey’s disposal. - -Nevertheless, in spite of this satisfactory overcoming of a grave -difficulty, Grey was not present when the party sat down to dinner; -for, as he was about to join the company, Nicholas Van Tuyl broke in -upon him, carrying in his hand a note which had just been delivered by -an orderly from the Royal Hospital. - -“You’ll have to go, won’t you?” he asked, as Grey ran his eye over the -page. - -It was from Chancellor von Ritter and was addressed to the banker. - -“If you are in communication with Mr. Grey,” it read, “send him here -with all speed. The man Lutz can last only a few hours. He is anxious -to make an ante-mortem statement, but insists that Mr. Grey shall be -present when he makes it.” - -And so Grey rushed off in a cab, and as the dinner party took their -places at table in the Van Tuyl _salon_, he was climbing the Royal -Hospital stairs to the little white room in which lay dying the young -man who had served him faithfully for over two years as valet, only -to fall by reason of avarice into the rôle of villain in his life’s -melodrama. - -The eyes that looked up at him from dark, cavernous depths in a face -pale as chalk had in them an appeal that touched a chord of his -sympathy, and for the moment he forgot the injuries he had suffered and -remembered only the services he had experienced at those hands, which -lay limp and waxen-yellow against the spotless white of the coverlet. - -The small room was somewhat crowded. Chancellor von Ritter was there -with a notary and a stenographer; near the window stood a soldier, -whose very presence seemed an irony, which he appeared to recognise -in retiring as far as the limits of the tiny chamber would permit; -and there, too, of course, was the inevitable nun-like nurse in -significantly immaculate muslin and the great flaring headdress of her -sisterhood. - -“He seems a little stronger at the moment,” whispered the Chancellor; -“you came at an opportune time. He has been asking for you all the -afternoon.” - -The nurse was moistening the sufferer’s lips. When she finished, Grey -spoke to him. - -“I am sorry to see you here, Lutz,” he said, simply. - -His breathing, he noticed, was very short and laboured. - -“I’m obliged to you for coming, sir,” he replied, and his voice was -stronger than one would have expected. “I’ve got a lot to tell you; but -it’s so late now I don’t know whether I’ll be able.” He paused between -his sentences in an effort to husband his waning strength. “I was a -good enough fellow once, Mr. Grey, wasn’t I?” - -Grey nodded. - -“Yes,” he agreed, with sincerity, “you were all right, Lutz.” - -“I never really meant you any harm, sir,” he went on. “It seemed to me -that it would be a good thing for you.” - -The Chancellor motioned to the stenographer, who drew his chair closer -to the bedside and took a note-book and pencil from his pocket. - -“Afterwards,” Lutz continued, “after Dr. Schlippenbach died and I knew -we couldn’t keep you under the spell any more, I got frightened; and -then I drank a good deal, and I--yes, I was crazy at times. Absinthe, -Mr. Grey. I wasn’t used to it, and it turned my head. I thought to -save myself I must get rid of you. I tried to smother you with gas -that night last week in Paris. Captain Lindenwald knew of it. He was -afraid of you, too. He said suspicion would fall on Baron von Einhard; -that we would never be suspected. And when I failed he went to Baron -von Einhard and--how much he got I don’t know; but the Baron paid him -to go away and leave you, agreeing that he would put you where you -would never be heard of again. Then we came here, with a story about -your being mad and being locked up in a Paris sanitarium. It was the -only thing we could do. If the plan had worked we should have been in -trouble for a while, maybe, but when Prince Hugo came to the throne we -should have been rewarded. I sold the Baron the strong-box with all -those manufactured proofs of your right to the crown; and I told him -you had the Prince of Kronfeld ring. I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry. But I’m -a coward, and I was in terror and more than half insane with that green -stuff.” - -“Yes, yes, I know,” Grey interjected. “But tell me, Lutz, how this -whole thing started, back in New York. Tell me about Schlippenbach and -how you and he managed it together.” - -The nurse, from her place by the pillow, leaned over and wiped her -patient’s brow. Then she moistened his lips again, and his deep-sunken -eyes looked his appreciation. For some minutes he was silent, -endeavouring apparently by an effort of will to gather fresh energy; -and to Grey’s mind recurred the picture of that darkened room in Paris, -just six days ago, with the dying Herr Schlippenbach struggling to make -himself understood. - -“He was more devil than man,” Lutz resumed. “He was always working with -strange drugs and experimenting with batteries on cats and dogs, and -children, too. One day he asked me a great many questions about you, -Mr. Grey, and then he asked me if I’d like to be rich--very rich, he -said. ‘Everyone wants to be rich,’ I answered. ‘If you’ll do just as -I tell you,’ he said, ‘you’ll have more money than you ever dreamed -of.’ He told me he wanted me to put just one tiny pellet in your coffee -each morning. It would not harm you, he said, but you would doze off -for just ten minutes after you had taken it, and you would never know -you had been dozing. ‘And while he is asleep,’ he said, ‘you can tell -him to do anything you wish at any time in that day and he will do it. -Tell him, for instance,’ he advised me, ‘to double your wages when he -returns from his office in the evening, and he will do it.’ I laughed -at the idea and had no faith in it; but I consented to try it. And it -worked. You did double my wages, Mr. Grey, just as I asked you to, and -you never knew I had asked you. Each day I gave you the pellet, as -he directed, and each day I suggested that you do certain things at -certain hours, and you always did them.” - -“Hypnotic suggestion,” commented Grey, involuntarily. - -“Something like it,” Lutz replied, “but he said it was not. At least, -only in part. The pellet was the principal thing. He made the pellets -himself. They were his secret. I gave you the last the day before he -died; and I knew then that I could control you no more.” - -“Yes,” Grey urged, “but after the first, what happened? After I raised -your wages, what other things did you suggest?” - -“Nothing of importance for a month or two. Just trifles--that you come -home early and tell me you would not require me that night; or that -you would give me a coat I wanted very much, and things of that sort. -But one day Schlippenbach came to the rooms while you were down town. -‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said,’I am coming here early, before Mr. Grey is -up. You must hide me somewhere until you have given him the pellet.’ He -came and I hid him in your wardrobe; but when you had had your coffee -with his drug in it he came out, and then I saw for the first time the -power of this thing. He directed you very minutely and very exactly. -Every minute in the day you were under his commands. You were to secure -a hundred thousand dollars in cash and you were to bring it to his -house on Avenue A at four o’clock in the afternoon. And at this house -you were to remain. That evening I went there, and there you were. You -did not know me. Your name had been changed to Arndt. I called you -Mr. Grey to test the thing, and you appeared to think I was crazy. -Schlippenbach told me you had brought the money. You never left his -house until we sailed for this country.” - -“What did I do there?” - -“You did very little, but Schlippenbach did a great deal. Each day he -had his batteries working on your head. He told me he was building -up your self-esteem and that he was depleting your reverence. He was -developing those cerebral organs which he thought would fit you for a -throne and reducing those which he thought would unfit you. He said -that in this way he could change you completely. After a few years of -constant treatment, three or four years at most, you would, he told me, -be no more Mr. Grey, the New York broker, than I would. You would be -the King of Budavia and never know that you had not been born to it. -And then there would be no further need of pellets or of galvanism. The -transformation would have been accomplished.” - -The dying man, becoming more and more interested in his subject, was -speaking in clearer tones and with much less effort; and his auditors -listened, spellbound, to his exposition of the marvellous methods of -his mountebank master. - -“And as the days went on it was wonderful how you did change, sir. You -spoke differently and you acted differently. He made you grow a beard -and moustache, which he bleached without your knowledge, as he did your -hair, and your most intimate friend wouldn’t have recognised you, Mr. -Grey. I don’t believe your mother would have known you, sir.” - -“And the money?” Grey queried, fearing that in his enthusiasm Lutz -would overtax his strength and leave this most important point -uncovered. “What did Schlippenbach do with the hundred thousand -dollars?” - -“A good deal of it was spent,” the valet answered, “but some of it is -still in the East River National Bank, and some with Graeff & Welbrock, -the German bankers. When we came away we brought with us two letters of -credit, one in his name and one in yours, for twenty thousand dollars -each.” - -Of these facts Grey made a mental note. - -“Some of it you will get back, sir,” Lutz added, after a pause. -“Perhaps most of it, for the old man owns some property on the East -Side, and you can prove that he was responsible for the theft. And now, -Mr. Grey”--and something in the nature of a smile flickered ghastly and -distressful about the corners of his livid mouth--“I think I have told -you all. But”--his yellow right hand slid slowly a few inches over the -coverlet towards its edge--“I have in return a favour to ask. Maybe -you’ll feel you can’t grant it. I’m going pretty fast, I imagine. They -say I won’t last till daylight comes, and--I’d like, sir--if you don’t -mind too much”--his sentences were very halt once more--“don’t mind too -much----” - -Grey leaned over and took the sliding hand in his own. - -“All right, Lutz,” he said, with a tremour in his voice that he could -not control, “all right, man. I don’t believe you were half to blame. -He had you under a spell, too, I dare say. I forgive you freely, and -God bless you!” - -The flickering, vagrant smile merged into an expression of peace. Into -the sunken eyes came resignation. - -“Thank you, sir!” the grey lips murmured, “thank you! thank you!” - -The notary mumbled a form of oath to which Lutz gave a voiceless -assent. Then his lids fell, and when Grey and Count von Ritter left the -room he was barely conscious. - -“I’ll have a certified copy of the statement sent to you Mr. Grey,” the -Chancellor volunteered. “In it you will have evidence that is beyond -all dispute. I congratulate you on securing such a complete refutation -of so baseless and yet so dangerous a slander.” - - - - -XXI - - -The contrast between the tiny white room in the hospital with the -dire shadow of the Grim Reaper hovering over the narrow cot bed, and -the spacious, brilliant _salon_ of the hotel, where life, assertive, -aggressive, almost obtrusive, was dominant, had something of a dazzling -effect on Carey Grey, and he paused a moment on the threshold, with -blinking eyes, in an effort to adjust his vision to the sudden change -of scene. - -There was a momentary lull in the merriment that smote him as the door -swung open in answer to his knock, and then the cannonade of voices--of -cries of surprise, of welcoming greetings, of laughter--was resumed, -and Nicholas Van Tuyl rose from his place at the round table, which, -with its snowy damask dotted with pink-shaded candles and dappled with -silver and crystal, seemed like the centre of some giant flower of -which the men and women about it were the variegated petals. - -“My friends,” cried the host, raising his voice and hand simultaneously -for silence, “I have pleasure in presenting to you my future -son-in-law, Mr. Carey Grey, of New York.” - -The next instant everybody was shouting at once. The men were up and -bearing down on the newcomer in a solid phalanx, and Lady Constance -and Mrs. Dickie were waving their napkins and fairly shrieking their -congratulations. When at length something like order reigned again, -Frothingham found his champagne glass and proposed a toast: - -“To the bride-elect,” he cried. “‘She moves a goddess and she looks a -queen.’” - -Grey’s response was brief but enthusiastic, and the significance of the -quotation with which he closed it evoked an outburst of applause that -must have been heard as far as the Kursaal, two blocks away. - - “All yet seems well, and if it end so meet, - The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. - The king’s a beggar now the play is done: - All is well ended, if _this_ suit be won.” - -He did not know it at the time, but prior to his coming the whole -story of his adventure had been related and discussed, much to the -entertainment of the party in general and to the intense edification -and delight of young Edson in particular, who resolved to make to his -chief, the Ambassador, a full report of the extraordinary affair, with -a view to having it forwarded to Washington to be filed among the State -archives, as indicative of a vulnerable point in Budavia’s boasted -supremacy in statecraft. The aptness of the quotation, therefore, was -more generally appreciated than Grey had any notion it would be, and -the hilarious approbation of his auditors was consequently a good deal -of a surprise. - -Nicholas Van Tuyl, however, leaned over in the midst of the cheering, -to tell him that the plot of his play and the part he had enacted -were known to the company. The news was not ungrateful, for from the -moment of his entrance he had felt a natural restraint, which was -now relieved. Very soon the matter came up again, and he related his -experience at the hospital, which was listened to with the deepest -interest. - -“Under the circumstances,” observed Sinclair Edson when Grey had -finished, “it is not surprising that the extradition proceedings have -been withdrawn.” - -“Withdrawn?” exclaimed Grey, in amazement. “If it be true I should say -it were most surprising.” - -“We had a cable to that effect yesterday before I left Paris,” -continued the secretary. “They were withdrawn at the instance of your -partner, Mr. Mallory.” - -“That is inexplicable,” Grey commented. “He doesn’t know anything more -now than he did a week ago.” - -Van Tuyl drained his wine-glass and wiped his lips with his napkin. - -“Oh, yes he does, Carey,” he said, “he knows pretty much about it. I -took the liberty of cabling to him all I knew. Besides, that whole -business was a mare’s nest. If you hadn’t disappeared there would never -have been any prosecution. Any one knows that a partner can’t be held -for borrowing from his own firm, and unless I’m very much mistaken you -were in a position to turn over real estate worth several times the -amount secured on the bonds.” - -“That is very true,” Grey replied, smiling, “but, strange as it may -seem, that view of the situation never occurred to me before.” - -“The newspapers were responsible for most of the hue and cry, I fancy,” -Van Tuyl continued, “and as for the extradition part, I imagine -Mallory took that step more from an impulse to find out whether the -cable you sent him was really from you, and with the hope of locating -you--dragging you back from the grave, so to speak--than with an idea -of punishment for a crime that was never really committed.” - -A Dresden clock on the mantel-shelf had tinkled midnight before the -party broke up, agreeing to be down for an early breakfast at a quarter -of eight, since the Van Tuyls and Grey were leaving Kürschdorf at nine, -to connect with the Orient Express at Munich. - -When the rest had gone, Grey, who had lingered, drew Hope out onto -the balcony. The music of the band which had floated up from below -throughout the evening had ceased, but the rushing Weisswasser and -the breeze stirring the foliage of the trees on the Quai combined in a -melody to which their hearts beat a joyous refrain. The stars twinkled -in unison in the blue-black canopy of the heavens, and from the -distance a nightingale’s song made chorus. - -“‘She moves a goddess and she looks a queen,’” Grey repeated, his -arm about the girl’s supple waist. “That was an inspiration on -Frothingham’s part. The line was never more aptly quoted. _My_ goddess! -_My_ queen! Ah, my darling, if I could only make you know the happiness -that is mine tonight!” - -Her head was resting against his shoulder, but now she turned her face -to him and in her eyes was a world of passionate adoration. - -“I know,” she murmured, softly. “It is mine, too, dear. It is a mutual -happiness, and we both know it. That is the reason it is so sweet.” - -He drew her still closer, until he could feel her heart beating against -his side. - -“God is good,” he said, reverently. “There were moments in the past -week when I saw only the frowning face of an implacable fate; when I -felt that the net woven about me was too cruelly strong ever to give -way to my struggles; and then I was more than half inclined to curse -God and die. But we are only blind children, as it has been said, and -when Providence is preparing for us the most delectable morsels we grow -rebellious because we can’t see just how it is being done.” - -“‘More welcome is the sweet,’” she quoted, returning the pressure of -his hand. “You will never know, my very dear, the agony I suffered in -those weeks after your disappearance. I would have died gladly--oh, so -gladly; but, as you say, God is good, only we cannot always see. The -sky was very black, without a single star, and the sun would never rise -again, never, never. I knew it.” - -“But it has, love, hasn’t it?” Grey asked, cheerily. “And we’ll pray -now for a long, long, sunshiny day to make up for so dark a night.” - -Then he bent his head and kissed her; and the nightingale’s song was a -pæan, and the music of the trees and the river a serenade. - -After a little, Nicholas Van Tuyl joined them. - -“Well, lad,” he said to Grey, as he flicked the ashes from his cigar, -“what are your plans?” - -“I’m taking _La Savoie_ from Havre on Saturday,” the young man -answered. “I’d rather lose my right arm than leave Hope now, just as I -have found her, but there’s no getting out of it. I must hurry back to -New York and square things.” - -“You must go so soon, dear?” she questioned, with just a suspicion of a -pout. - -“I must,” he replied, reluctance in his voice. “I’ll try to rejoin you -later; but every duty demands my presence in America now.” - -“We’ll have to stop, of course,” Van Tuyl observed; and then he added, -with a smile: “my daughter, here, will be very busy, I fancy, for the -next few weeks with _couturières_ and _marchandes de modes_ in the rue -de la Paix and thereabouts. So don’t exercise yourself unnecessarily, -Carey. She’ll hardly have time to miss you. There’s no salve in the -world to a woman so effective as that to be found in ordering new -finery.” - -“Don’t you believe him, dear,” the girl protested, her fingers -tightening on Grey’s hand. “I shall think of you every minute I’m -awake, and dream of you every minute I’m asleep.” - -The two men lounging against the iron railing of the balcony smoked -and chatted for a long time after Hope went in. They had much in -common, and to each occurred a multiplicity of matters of mutual -interest. - -Meanwhile the street below grew quiet, the terrace was deserted, the -wind in the trees died to a whisper, and the incessant murmur of the -hurrying waters accentuated rather than disturbed the silence. But the -two great lamps on either side of the hotel’s broad entrance still -blazed, throwing a half circle of illumination out across the roadway -and in under the lindens of the Quai. - -Grey, flinging away the end of his cigar, turned and looked down, -watching it fall and sputter red sparks upon the macadam of the -drive. And as he looked a shadow glided swiftly across the arc of -light beneath the trees and was swallowed up in the gloom beyond--a -shadow, the contour of which even in that brief moment struck Grey as -unmistakably familiar, recalling a figure that he had seen twenty-four -hours before, leaping wildly, from dark to dark, down a winding stone -stairway. - -“It’s bed time,” said Nicholas Van Tuyl, yawning. “You must be tired. -Suppose we----” - -A pistol shot, startlingly loud and sharp against the night silence, -clipped off the end of the sentence. - -For a moment neither spoke, and the stillness was the stillness of -death. Then came the patter of hurrying steps, and presently voices -were heard and men were darting across the street from all directions, -and all heading toward the Quai at a point just opposite the balcony. - -“Murder?” suggested Van Tuyl. - -“No,” answered Grey, with conviction. “Suicide.” - -Five minutes later, as they watched and listened, the crowd came -straggling back, two by two and in groups, all chattering. - -“Poor devil!” said one. The words rose distinctly audible. - -“He made very sure,” commented another. - -“Fancy blowing out his brains on the edge of the Quai and burying -himself in the river!” exclaimed a third. - -“For love, I suppose,” a young man ventured. - -“Lost his last mark at the Kursaal tonight probably,” an older man -theorised. - -Grey and Van Tuyl turned into the _salon_ through the open window. - -“That is what is called retribution,” said the younger man, “but it is -usually longer delayed.” - -Van Tuyl’s face asked for enlightenment. - -“I could hardly have been mistaken,” Grey answered, with assurance. “I -saw the fellow just a moment before. It was Captain Lindenwald, of the -Royal Household and Equerry to the late King Frederic of Budavia.” - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not -changed. - -Spelling and punctuation of non-English words was not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced -quotation marks retained. - -Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Prince to Order, by Charles Stokes Wayne - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PRINCE TO ORDER *** - -***** This file should be named 54916-0.txt or 54916-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/9/1/54916/ - -Produced by Charlie Howard and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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