Part 32 (2/2)
Between them it had long been a salute given and acknowledged, but now the Duke halted, fingers at visor.
”May I have a word with Your Highness?” he said.
Armand's hand dropped slowly, and he only half paused in his walk.
”I'm in a particular hurry, cousin,” he replied, ”won't to-morrow do as well?”
Lotzen's eye-brows went up.
”Isn't to-morrow rather uncertain for-both of us?” he asked.
”Yes,” said the Archduke instantly, ”yes, it is; and hence what need of talk between us, at least so late in the day. Wait until we have a to-morrow.”
”What I wish to say has nothing to do with futures, cousin, only with the past, with the De Saure house-oh! that surprises you, does it?”
”Not half as much as the amazing mess you made of it,” said Armand.
”That, my dear cousin, is just what I came to explain,” said Lotzen quickly. ”I had nothing whatever to do with the silly affair; it was a clever idea, but sadly bungled; I heard of it only the next day, and I want to a.s.sure you it was not my work-though, as I say, it was a clever idea-too clever, indeed, to be wasted so fruitlessly.”
The Archduke regarded him in speculative silence;-just what manner of man was this; and what could be his ulterior purpose in such an astonis.h.i.+ng avowal!
”Will you tell me, cousin,” he asked, ”why you should trouble to disclaim partic.i.p.ation in an outrage, whose only offense, in your eyes, was its failure?”
Again Lotzen's eye-brows went up. ”I thought you would understand that it is in justice to myself; I would not have you think me guilty of so stupid a piece of work.”
”Doubtless, then, it will gratify you, monsieur, that I never doubted your complicity, however much I may have marvelled at the unskilled execution-you would have arranged it rather differently. Indeed, I was sorry that you, yourself, were not in command. I left a message, both upstairs and down, that I thought you might understand.”
Lotzen smiled, rather warmly for him.
”I understood,” he said; ”your writing was exceedingly legible.”
”And I sent you another message, a little while ago, by the man with the wounded ear,” said the Archduke, his eyes upon the other's bandaged hand.
”I suppose you got it?”
The Duke laughed and held up his hand, the back and palm covered with plaster.
”This wasn't made by a bullet, cousin;” he replied; ”I got it this morning from a new pet I was trying to train.-No, I didn't get your last message.”
”Better get it to-day, cousin,” said the Archduke, as he turned away; ”to-morrow is rather uncertain.”
XV FOUR O'CLOCK AT THE INN
Ten miles out, on the t.i.tian Road, is the Inn of the Twisted Pines.
Something more than two centuries of storms and suns.h.i.+ne have left its logs and plaster wrinkled and weather-beaten, yet the house stands as stanch and strong as the day the last pin was driven, and the painted sign and the bunch of furze hung above the entrance.
The old soldier who built it had lived long enough to marry a young wife, and leave it to her and a st.u.r.dy boy; and, thereafter, there was always a son to take the father's place; and with the heirs.h.i.+p seemed to go the inherited obligation to maintain the house exactly as received. No modernity showed itself within or without; the cooking alone varied, as it reflected the skill or whim of the particular mistress; and it chanced that the present one was of unusual ability in that particular; and the knowledge of it coming to the Capital, had brought not a little trade of riding parties and the officers of the garrison.
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