Part 45 (1/2)
He sent a cloud of smoke between them.
”I wish I knew,” he said; ”but the American won't tell me.”
She scattered the smoke with a wave of her handkerchief.
”Are you quite sure he could tell you?” she asked.-”In fact, my dear boy, do you need to be told?”
He looked at her with a puzzled frown; and for answer she tapped the open blotter, and smiled.
”Even though inverted, a few words are very plain:-a King's name and a date.... And the King died the next day.”
”And what is your inference?” he asked.
”It's rather more than an inference, isn't it?” she laughed; ”I should call it a sequitur:-that he who has the Book's blotter, has the Book.”
She had expected either cool ridicule or angry denial; instead, he laughed, too, and coming around to her, gave her an admiring little caress.
”You're quite too clever, Madeline,” he said; ”it is a sequitur, but unfortunately it's not the fact-now. I haven't the Book; I did have it, and I know where it is, but I can't get it.”
”You had it-and let it get away?” she marveled.
”Yes.”
”And know where it is, and yet can't get it?”
”Yes, again.”
”Surely! surely! it can't be that I am listening to the Duke of Lotzen!... But, of course, you know what the decree is.”
And now he lied, and so easily and promptly that even she did not suspect.
”No,” said he, ”I don't; I lost the Book before I had a chance to open it. All I know is what that blotter tells. d.a.m.n it, why couldn't it have had the middle of the decree instead of both ends!” and in marvellously a.s.sumed indignation he seized the soft sheet, and tore it into tiny bits.
He had no mind that even she should have the chance to copy it, and delve into all that the words and blurred lines might imply.
”May I know where the Book is, dear?” she said, after a pause; ”may be I could help you.”
An hour ago he would have balked at this question; but now her interests had become so bound up with his that he could trust her.
”Know, little one? of course you may know,” he said instantly; ”I shall be glad for a confidant. The Book is exactly where it belongs:-in the box, and it is in the vault of the King's library at the Summer Palace.”
She laughed merrily.
”Ferdinand, dear Ferdinand!” she cried, ”I'm ashamed of you-to tell me such a clumsy lie.”
”It isn't a lie-that's the pity.”
”Then why all this bother as to the Succession, and search for the Book?”
she asked incredulously.