Part 36 (2/2)

”Ordinarily it would be proper now for us to have a good, stiff drink, may be several of them,” he remarked, ”but the only kind that fits this situation, so far as I'm concerned, is straight whisky, and I don't believe this cursed place can supply it.”

”Quite right; it can't,” said Moore; ”I tried the other day-won't anything else do?”

”No-nothing else; and it's just as well I can't get the whisky; I may need a clear head to night.”

”You are not going, sir!”

Armand nodded. ”Going? of course I'm going-why not? and I only hope I'll get a chance at my sweet cousin. We promised only to look-to raise no disturbance-and on Spencer's account it is right enough that we should do nothing to betray her; but if Lotzen get in the way, Colonel, we are not obligated to avoid him.”

”Why should Your Highness walk deliberately into the tiger's lair-when another can go quite as well, and without danger?” Moore protested.

The Archduke took a cigarette and tossed the case across to the Adjutant.

”Because I'm really hunting the tiger,” he laughed; ”and I like excitement in good company-though I fear it will be a very tame affair.”

The other shook his head dubiously. ”It's not right, sir, for you to expose yourself so unnecessarily-let me go in command.”

”Nonsense, Ralph, you're getting in Bernheim's cla.s.s; quit it. What I wish you would tell me is whether Spencer dropped her veil intentionally or by accident.”

”It seemed so accidental it must have been intentional,” said Moore.

”If I were sure of it, that would cancel a trifle more of my obligation.”

”Her Highness will know-” the Colonel began, and stopped abashed at his blunder.

”And so will Mademoiselle d'Essolde,” said Armand. ”I may have to depend on you for information.”

”Then Your Highness will likely have to get it, yourself,” Moore laughed.

”We're not speaking either, it seems; she let me put her up, because the Regent sent me to her, but-I'm chilly yet. Did you ever notice, sir, how disconcerting it is to think you're talking to a woman, and then find it's a mistake and that really you're talking only to yourself?”

The Archduke smiled. ”Yes,” said he, ”I've noticed it; and we may have a rather frigid atmosphere for a few moments this evening until I can explain-we are to dine with Her Highness and Mademoiselle.”

”If you don't mind, sir, I'll violate propriety and let you arrive first; your explanation will do for both-and besides, I fancy such things are best done a deux.”

”You fancy!-you innocent-Irishman-afraid-of-a-woman!” He drew on his gloves. ”Come along-put on a brave front and I'll take you home. Five minutes talk will set matters right.”

”If you're not talking to yourself,” Moore observed.

The landlord was awaiting them in distress and trepidation almost pitiful. Such ill luck had not befallen the Inn in all its years of busy life. The Regent and the Governor! It was the end of his favor-the end of the Twisted Pines. To-morrow-may be to-day-would come the police, and the nails would go into the doors, and boards across the windows, and the big gates, that had always swung open at daybreak, would swing no more, and in disgrace and shame he and his would be turned out, with the curt admonition to seek a harbor in another land.

He almost dropped as the Archduke's hand fell on his shoulder.

”Scartman,” said he kindly, yet incisively, ”doubtless your mind is much too occupied to remember everything that happens here-but let me suggest that it would be well even to make a special effort to forget what has occurred this afternoon. I have known such forgetfulness to merit special reward.”

The landlord looked up in bewildered joy.

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