Part 54 (1/2)

Dropping her cape Mrs. Spencer, with the easy hand of a practiced fencer, whipped out the sword she was wearing, in her disguise as an officer, and was speeding to obey, when Dehra caught up one of Colonel Moore's swords from the corner and rushed upon her.

”Guard yourself, d.u.c.h.ess!” Lotzen cried; and she swung around just in time to throw herself between the Princess and the fireplace. Instantly their blades rang together.

The Archduke heard, and out of the side of his eye he saw, and his brow wrinkled in anxiety. Spencer was no novice; she, too, he knew, had learned the gentle art of the foils in her youth, and under French maitres, and she was not to be despised even by one so skilful as the Regent. He had little doubt that he could kill the Duke, but what profit in it if Dehra died. He hesitated to speak, it might disconcert her, and yet he must warn her.

”Watch her play in tierce,” he said, in the most casual tone; and almost shouted for joy, when he heard Dehra's little laugh, and her voice calm and easy.

”Thank you, Armand!”

But it very nearly cost him his own life, for in trying to catch a glimpse of her he had loosed his eye-grip, and Lotzen's point shot out viciously, and only a lucky swing aside sent it sc.r.a.ping along the skin instead of through the neck.

”Rather close, cousin!” he remarked.

”The next will be closer,” said the Duke softly. ”Meanwhile, the Book burns.”

But the Archduke did not fall into the trap, and loose the eye-grip a second time.

”Let it burn!” he answered, ”I'd rather kill you than save it-but I will do both.”

”If you can, cousin! if you can-” and the swords rang on.

And the Duke was right-the Book was burning, slowly, but burning none the less. His throw had been a trifle short, and instead of being in the heart of the fire it was on the outer edge, where the coals were not so glowing. There the leather and metal cover had protected it for a short while, but now the tiny flames were crawling along the edges, shooting up quick pencils of light that flared ever higher and more frequent.

And Dehra caught the gleam when it flashed the brightest, and in a fury of desire she drove at Madeline Spencer. Hitherto she had aimed only to disarm her, now it was the Book at any price.

But the American woman's defense was still impenetrable; defence was her forte-trick, feint, attack, she knew every one, and always her sword blocked them or turned them aside. But there she had stopped; never once had she herself a.s.sumed the offensive. She would take no chance of killing the Regent; and she had soon discovered the Regent was not aiming to kill her. But now she felt the change, and she knew that it was a matter of only a little while until she would have to yield or be sped.

She could hear Lotzen and the Archduke, at the other end of the room, still fighting as fiercely as at the beginning;-the taunting laugh; the quip given, and returned; the crash of a chair as one of them kicked it away; but all she saw was the flitting steel before her, and the Princess' glowing eyes.

Of a sudden there came a burst of voices, the door toward the Council Chamber was dashed open, and Count Epping rushed in, and all the Ministers behind him.

Madeline Spencer drew back and lowered her sword; the Princess sprang to the fire-place and rescued the Book, smothering the flames with the hearth rug; but Lotzen ground out an oath and flung himself with fresh fierceness at the Archduke.

At first even the imperturbable Prime Minister had been too astonished to act; now he came slowly forward, his old, lean face aglow with the joy of the combat and the music of the steel. Then he stopped and stood, watching, head slightly forward, lips half parted, eyes s.h.i.+ning, fingers playing lovingly over his own hilt. Ah! it was a good fight to look upon; a n.o.ble fight, indeed; such masterly sword play he had never seen, nor was ever like to see again; the swift attacks, the fierce rallies, the marvellous agility, the steady eye, the steel wrist. And then, the nerve of him who was losing, and must know it; for Lotzen was losing-surely losing. Twice the Archduke had driven him around the table; now he forced him slowly back ... back ... back ... to the wall ... against it ...

tight against it.

”Yield, cousin!” he said; ”it's your last chance.”

But the Duke only smiled mockingly and fought on.

With an appealing cry Madeline Spencer darted toward them.

”Spare him, Armand!” she pleaded, ”spare him!”

The Archduke stepped out of distance, but with point still advanced.

”Take him!” he said, ”take him, and joy with him!”

Ferdinand of Lotzen slowly raised his sword in salute.