Part 42 (2/2)

”M. S.”

”3 A. M.”

Without a word, the Archduke pa.s.sed the letter over to Courtney; and without a word Courtney took it, read it twice, and pa.s.sed it back; and fell to blowing smoke rings through each other.

”Well,” said Armand presently, ”when you're satisfied with the rings, and it seems to me they couldn't be bettered, I shall be glad to have your opinion of the letter.”

The other shook his head, and went on with the rings.

”What is the use?” he answered. ”You are going to Lotzenia.”

”I'm sorely tempted, I admit-but I don't know--”

Courtney flung his cigarette at the fireplace, and got up.

”Then, if you don't know, I'll tell you what I think,-throw that d.a.m.n letter into the fire and stay right here in Dornlitz; if you let it lure you to Lotzenia, you are an unmitigated fool.”

”But the Book!-and Spencer only confirms what my own eyes told me.”

”Lies, lies, rotten lies!” said Courtney. ”He hasn't the Book-it's all a plant-you escaped last night because Bigler blundered in, and because the Regent was with you-but in that wild land of the North, you will last about a day, or less. Why don't you forget the miserable Book, for a while, and get to work on your vote in the House of n.o.bles?-there is where you will likely have to fight it out any way, even if Frederick did make your decree. Play politics a bit, and you will have Lotzen back in Dornlitz on the jump-and the Book with him, too, if he has it.”

The Archduke went over and put his hand on Courtney's shoulder.

”d.i.c.k,” he said, ”it's something worth living for to have known a man like you, and to have had him for a friend and companion; and if I don't follow your advice you will understand it is because I can't. You have called me headstrong; I grant it, it's bred in the bone I think; and I'm not of those who can sit, and wait, and play politics. I shall find the Laws of the Dalbergs, somewhere, somehow, long before the year is over; and if necessary I'm going to kill Lotzen in the finding-or be killed-”

he broke off with a laugh and a shrug. ”Positively, old man, I'm ashamed of myself; I seem to have become a braggart and a swash-buckler.”

”Who is the braggart and swash-buckler, my dear Marshal?” asked the Princess, entering suddenly, with Lady Helen Radnor, Mlle. d'Essolde and Colonel Moore, ”not Mr. Courtney I hope.”

”Unfortunately, no; Your Highness,” said Armand. ”Candor compels me to admit that I was characterizing myself.”

She pointed her crop at the decanter, and nodded questioningly to the Amba.s.sador.

”No,” said he, ”no; it's only a sudden rush of remorse for deeds past and to come.”

”To come?” said she, and looked at the Archduke inquiringly.

For answer he handed her Madeline Spencer's letter.

She glanced at the signature, smiled, and with a word of excuse, she carried it over to a window; and Armand, chatting with Lady Helen, watched her curiously as she read and re-read it; and then she looked up quickly, and gave him the glance of summons.

”Have you shown it to Mr. Courtney?” she asked. ”Did he say what he thought of it?”

”He did-and at some length, and also what he thought of me.-Briefly, it was to the effect that the letter is a snare, and that I'm several kinds of a fool if I let it lure me to Lotzenia.”

The Princess tapped her crop softly against her boot, and considered.

”Of course,” said she, in momentary interruption of her thought, ”I know what you think-you think you're going,-but I don't know--” and the tapping of the crop began afresh.... Presently a soft light came into her eyes, and she flashed him the adorable smile. ”Are you willing to wait the year for our wedding, dear?” she asked.

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