The Puppet Crown - Harlod MacGrath (nice books to read TXT) 📗

is a most disagreeable one," she resumed, lightly beating her gauntlets together; "but when one serves high personages one is supposed not to have any sentiments." To Fitzgerald she said: "You are the son of the late Lord Fitzgerald."

"For your sake, I regret to say that I am."

"For my sake? Worry yourself none on that point. As the agent of her Highness I am inconsiderable."

"Madame," said Maurice, "will you do us the honor to inform us to whom we are indebted for this partiality to our distinguished persons?"

"I am Sylvia Amerbach," quietly.

"Amerbach?" said Maurice, who was familiar with the great names of the continent. "Pardon me, but that was once a famous name in Prussia."

"I am distantly related to that house of princes," looking at her gauntlets.

"Well, Madame, since your business doubtless concerns me, pray, begin;" and Fitzgerald leaned against the mantelpiece and fumbled with the rim of his monocle.

Maurice walked to one of the windows and perched himself on the broad sill. He began to whistle softly:

Voici le sabre de mon pere! Tu vas le mettre a ton cote. . . .

Beyond the window, at the edge of the forest, he saw a sentinel pacing backward and forward. Indeed, no matter which way he looked, the autumnal scenery had this accessory. Again, he inspected the bars. These were comparatively new. It was about thirty feet to the court below. On the whole, the outlook was discouraging.

"Count," said the distant relative of the house of Amerbach, "how shall I begin?"

"I am not a diplomat, Madame," answered the Colonel. "If, however, you wish the advice of a soldier, I should begin by asking if my lord the Englishman has those consols about his person."

"Fie, count!" she cried, laughing; "one would say that was a prelude to robbery."

"So they would. As for myself, I prefer violence to words. If we take these pretty papers by violence, we shall still have left our friend the Englishman his self-respect. And as for words, while my acquaintance with our friend is slight, I should say that they would only be wasted here."

The whistle from the window still rose and fell.

"Monsieur, I have it in my power to make you rich."

"I am rich," replied Fitzgerald.

"In honors?"

"Madame, the title I have is already a burden to me." Fitzgerald laughed, which announced that the cause of the duchess was not getting on very well. Once or twice he raised the tortoiseshell rim to his eye, but dropped it; force of habit was difficult to overcome.

"Your father nourished a particular rancor against the late duke."

"And justly, you will admit."

"Her Highness has offered you five millions for slips of paper worth no more than the ink which decorates them."

"And I have refused. Why? Simply because the matter does not rest with me. You have proceeded with a high hand, Madame, or rather your duchess has. Nothing will come of it. Had there been any possibility of my considering your proposals, this kidnaping would have destroyed it."

She smiled. Maurice saw the smile and stopped whistling long enough to scratch his chin, which was somewhat in need of a razor. He had seen many women smile that way. He had learned to read it. It was an inarticulate "perhaps."

"The rightful successor to the throne-"

"Is Madame the duchess," Fitzgerald completed. "I haven't the slightest doubt of that. One way or the other, it does not concern me. I came here simply to fulfill the wishes of my father; and my word, Madame, fulfill them I shall. You are holding me a prisoner, but uselessly. On the twentieth the certificates fall due against the government. If they are not presented either for renewal or collection, the bankruptcy scheme of your duchess will fall through just the same. I will tell you the truth, Madame. My father never expected to collect the moneys so long as Leopold sat on the throne."

The whistle grew shrill.

"This officer here," continued Fitzgerald, while the Colonel made a comical grimace, "suggests violence. I shall save him the trouble. I have seen much of the world, Madame-the hard side of it -and, knowing it as I do, it is scarcely probable that I should carry about my person the equivalent of four millions of crowns."

"Well, Madame," said the Colonel, pushing his belt closer about his hips, as a soldier always does when he is on the point of departure, "what he says is true, every word of it. I see nothing more to do at present."

Mademoiselle of the Veil was paying not so much attention to the Colonel's words as she was to Maurice's whistle.

"Monsieur," she said, coldly, "have you no other tune in your repertory?"

"Pardon me!" exclaimed Maurice. "I did not intend to annoy you." He stepped down out of the window.

"You do not annoy me; only the tune grows rather monotonous."

"I will whistle anything you may suggest," he volunteered.

She did not respond to this flippancy, though the pupils of her gray eyes grew large with anger. She walked the length of the room and back.

"Count, what do you think would be most satisfactory to her Highness, under the circumstances?"

"I have yet to hear of her Highness' disapproval of anything you undertake."

"Messieurs, your parole d'honneur, and the freedom of the chateau is yours-within the sentry lines. I wish to make your recollections of the Red Chateau rather pleasant than otherwise. I shall be most happy if you will honor my table with your presence."

The Colonel coughed, Maurice smoothed the back of his head, and Fitzgerald caught up his monocle.

"My word, Madame," said Maurice, "is not worth much, being that of a diplomat, but such as it is it is yours. However, my clothes are scarcely presentable," which was true enough. Several buttons were missing, and the collar hung by a thread.

"That can be easily remedied," said she. "There are several new hussar uniforms in the armory."

"O, Madame, and you will permit me to wear one of those gay uniforms of light blue and silver lace?"

The Colonel looked thoughtfully at Maurice. He was too much a banterer himself to miss the undercurrent of raillery. He eyed Madame discreetly; he saw that she had accepted merely the surface tones.

"And you will wear one, too, Jack?" said Maurice.

"No, thank you. I pass my word, Madame; I do not like confinement."

"Well, then, the count will shortly return and establish you in better quarters. Let us suppose you are my guests for a-a fortnight. Since both of us are right, since neither your cause nor mine is wrong, an armistice! Ah! I forgot. The east corridor on the third floor is forbidden you. Should you mistake and go that way, a guard will direct you properly. Messieurs, till dinner!" and with a smile which illumined her face as a sudden burst of sunshine flashes across a hillside, she passed out of the room, followed by her henchman, who had not yet put aside the thoughtful repose of his countenance.

"A house party," said Maurice, when he could no longer hear their footsteps. "And what the deuce have they got so valuable in the east corridor on the third floor?"

"It's small matter to me," said Fitzgerald tranquilly. "The main fact is that she has given up her game."

Said Maurice, his face expressing both pity and astonishment: "My dear, dear John! Didn't you see that woman's eyes, her hair, her chin, her nose?"

"Well?"

"True; you haven't had any experience with petticoats. This woman will rend heaven and earth rather than relinquish her projects, or rather those of her mistress. I should like to see this duchess, who shows a fine discernment in the selection of her assistants. Beware of the woman who is frankly your enemy. If she is frank, it is because she is confident of the end; if not, she is frank in order to disarm us of the suspicion of cunning. I would give much to know the true meaning of this house party."

"Hang me if I can see what difference it makes. She can not do anything either by frankness or by cunning."

"She gathered us in neatly, this red-haired Amazon."

"Red-haired!" in a kind of protest.

"Why, yes; that's the color, isn't it?" innocently.

"I thought it a red-brown. It's too bad that such a woman should be mixed up in an affair like this."

"Woman will sacrifice to ambition what she never will sacrifice to love. Hush; I hear the Colonel returning."

They were conducted to the opposite wing of the chateau, to a room on the second floor. Its windows afforded an excellent view of the land which lay south. Hills rolled away like waves of gold, dotted here and there with vineyards. Through the avenue of trees they could see the highway, and beyond, the river, which had its source in the mountains ten miles eastward.

The room itself was in red, evidently a state chamber, for it contained two canopied beds. Several fine paintings hung from the walls, and between the two windows rose one of those pier glasses which owe their existence to the first empire of France. On one of the beds Maurice saw the hussar uniform. On the dresser were razors and mugs and a pitcher of hot water.

"Ah," he said, with satisfaction.

"The boots may not fit you," said the Colonel, "but if they do not we will manage some way."

"I shall not mind the fortnight," said Maurice. "By the way, Colonel, I notice that French seems to prevail instead of German. Why is that?"

"It is the common language of politeness, and servants do not understand it. As for myself, I naturally prefer the German tongue; it is blunt and honest and lacks the finesse of the French, which is full of evasive words and meanings. However, French predominates at court. Besides, heaven help the foreigner who tries to learn all the German tongues to be found in the empires of the Hohenzollern and Hapsburg. Luncheon will be served to you in the dining hall; the first door to the right at the foot of the grand staircase. I shall send you a trooper to act as valet."

"Spare me, Colonel," said Maurice, who did not want any one between him and the Englishman when they were alone.

"I have never had a valet," said Fitzgerald; "he would embarrass me."

"As you please," said the Colonel, a shade of disappointment in his tones. "After all, you are soldiers, where every man is for himself. Make yourselves at home;" and he withdrew.

Maurice at once applied lather and razor, and put on the handsome uniform, which fitted him snugly. The coat was tailless, with rows of silver buttons running from collar to waist. The breast and shoulders and sleeves were covered with silver lace, and Maurice concluded that it must be nothing less than a captain's uniform. The trousers were tight fitting, with broad stripes of silver; and the half boots were of patent leather. He walked backward and forward before the pier-glass.

"I say, Fitz, what do you think of it?"

"You're a handsome rascal, Maurice," answered the Englishman, who had watched his young friend, amusement in his sober eyes. "Happily, there are no young women present."

"Go to! I'll lay odds that our hostess is under twenty-five."

"I meant