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

for the laughter of the princess. That was her secret.

All things come to an end, even diplomatic receptions. Soon the guests began to leave.

Said the princess to Maurice: "Your invitation is a standing one, Monsieur. To our friends there are no formalities. Good night; ah, yes, the English fashion," extending her hand, which Maurice barely touched. "Good night, Monsieur," to Beauvais, with one of those nods which wither as effectually as frost.

The Colonel bent gracefully.

"Decidedly the Colonel is not in high favor tonight," thought Maurice; "a fact which is eminently satisfactory to me. Ah; he looks as if he had something to say to me. Let us wait."

"Monsieur, have you any other engagement this evening?" asked Beauvais, swinging his pelisse over both shoulders. "If not, my rooms are quite handy. I have capital cigars and cognacs. Will you do me the honor? I should like to have you regale me with some Vienna gossip; it is so long since I was there."

"Thanks," said Maurice. "I shall be happy to smoke your cigars and drink your cognacs." He was in the mood for any adventure, comic or serious. He had an idea what the Colonel wanted to say to him, and he was not unwilling to listen. Besides, he had no fear; he now wore an amulet close to his heart.

"Come, then," said Beauvais, gaily; and the two made off. "It is a wonderful game of chess, this world of ours."

"Yes," said Maurice, "we do keep moving."

"And every now and then one or the other of us steps out into the dark."

"So we do." Maurice glanced from the corner of his eye and calculated his chances in a physical contest with the Colonel. The soldier was taller and broader, but it was possible for him to make good this deficiency with quickness. But, above all, where and under what circumstances had he met this man before?

"Here we are!" cried the Colonel, presently.

He led Maurice into one of the handsome dwellings which faced the palace confines from the east. They passed up the stairs into a large room, Oriental in its appointments, and evidently the living room. The walls were hung with the paraphernalia of a soldier, together with portraits of opera singers, horses and celebrities of all classes. On the mantel Maurice saw, among other things, the glint of a revolver barrel. He thought nothing of it then. It occurred to him as singular, however, that the room was free from central obstruction. Had the Colonel expected to meet him at the archbishop's and anticipated his acceptance of a possible invitation?

Two chairs stood on either side of the grate. Between them was an octagon on which were cigars, glasses and two cognac bottles. The Colonel's valet came in and lit the tapers in the chandelier and woke up the fire. . . . Maurice was convinced that the Colonel had arranged the room thus for his especial benefit, and he regretted his eagerness for adventure.

"Francois," said Beauvais, throwing his shako and pelisse on the lounge and motioning to Maurice to do likewise, "let no one disturb us."

The valet bowed and noiselessly retired. The two men sat down without speaking. Beauvais passed the cigars. Maurice selected one, lit it, and blew rings at the Chinese mandarin which leered down at him from the mantel.

Several minutes marched into the past.

"Maurice Carewe," said the Colonel, as one who mused.

"It is very droll," said Maurice.

"I can not say that it strikes me as droll, though I am not deficient in the sense of humor."

"'Twould be a pity if you were; you would miss so much. Through humor philosophy reaches its culmination; humor is the foundation upon which the palace of reason erects itself. The two are inseparable."

"How came you to be mixed up in this affair, which is no concern of yours?"

"That question is respectfully referred to Madame the duchess. I was thrown into it, head foremost, bound hand and foot. It was a clever stroke, though eventually it will embarrass her."

"You may give me the certificates," said Beauvais.

Maurice contemplated him serenely. "Impossible," with a fillip at the end of his cigar.

"You refuse?" coldly.

"I do not refuse. Simply, I haven't got them."

"What!" The Colonel half sprang from his chair.

His astonishment was genuine; Maurice saw that it was, and he reflected. Madame nor Fitzgerald had been dishonest with him.

"No. Some one has forestalled me."

"Are you lying to me?" menacingly.

"And if I were?" coolly.

Beauvais measured his antagonist, his eyes hard and contemptuous.

"I repeat," said Maurice, "the situation is exceedingly droll. I am not afraid of you, not a bit. I am not a man to be intimidated. You might have inferred as much by my willingness to accompany you here. I am alone with you."

"It is true that you are alone with me," in a voice, which, though it did not alarm Maurice, caused him to rest less comfortably in his chair. "In the first place, you know too much."

"The knowledge was not of my own seeking. You will agree with me in that." He took a swallow of the cognac. "However, since I am in the affair-"

"Well?"

"I'll see it to its end."

"Perhaps. We shall not cross purposes. When men plot as I do, they stop at nothing, not even at that infinitesimal minutiae called the spark of life. It becomes a matter of self- preservation. I am in too deep water; I must keep on. I can not now turn back; the first shore is too far away."

"Even villainy has its inconveniences," Maurice observed.

"What do you call villainy?"

"An act in which a man accepts pay from one to ruin him for another. That is villainy, without a single saving grace, for you are a native neither of the kingdom nor the duchy."

"That is plain language. You do not take into consideration the villain's motives. There may be certain ends necessary as his life's blood, which may be gained only by villainy, which, after all, is a hard name for political conspiracy."

"Oh, I do not suppose you are worse than the majority. But it appeals to me as rather a small, unmanly game when your victims are a man who is dying and a girl who knows nothing of the world nor its treachery."

An almost imperceptible smile passed over Beauvais's countenance. "So her Highness has captured your sympathies?" with a shade of banter.

"I admit that; she would capture the sympathies of any man who has a good pair of eyes in his head. But you do not seem to be in favor just at present," banter for banter.

The Colonel studied the end of his cigar. "What is to be your stand in this affair?"

"Neutral as possible, for the simple reason that I have passed my word to Madame; compulsorily, it is true; I shall abide by it. That is not to say that my sympathies are not wholly with the Osians. Madame is a brilliant woman, resourceful, initiative; she has as many sides as a cut diamond; moreover, her cause is just. But I do not like the way she has gone about the recovery of her throne. She has broken, or will break, a fine honest heart; she tried to break another, but, not being above the pantry maid, the subject of her attention failed to appreciate the consideration."

Beauvais laughed at this. "You are very good company. Let me advise you to remain neutral. I wish you no harm. But if you change your mind and stand in my path-"

"Well, and if I stood in your path?"

"Pouf! you would vanish. O, I should not stoop to murder; that is a vulgar word and practice. I should place a sword in your hand and give you the preference of a gentleman's death. I see nothing to prevent me from carrying out that this very night," with a nod toward the rapiers which hung from the opposite wall.

"You might be surprised at the result," said Maurice, stretching his legs. "But at present I have no desire to quarrel with you, or to put your skill to a test. Once Madame gives me back my word, why, I do not say." He dipped his hand toward the ash-pan. "Human nature is full of freaks. A man will commit all sorts of crimes, yet stand by his word. Not that I have committed any crimes against the ten commandments."

And so they fenced.

"You picked up a rose to-night," said the Colonel.

"So I did." Maurice blew a puff of smoke into the chimneyplace and watched it sail upward and vanish. "Moreover, I propose to keep it. Have you any objections?"

"Only this: her Highness intended the rose for me."

"No, no, my friend," easily. "She would not have laughed had you picked it up."

"That is to say I lie?"

"It is," laconically.

There was no eluding a statement so bald as this. Beauvais sat upright. "To call me a liar is a privilege which I extend to no man."

"I did not call you a liar," undisturbed. "You wrote it down yourself, and I simply agreed to it. A duel? Well, I shall not fight you. Dueling is obsolete, and it never demonstrated the right or wrong of a cause. Since my part in this affair is one of neutrality, and since to gain that knowledge was the object of your invitation, I will take my leave of you."

He rose and looked at the porcelain clock. As he did so his gaze rested on a small photograph standing at the side of it. He scanned it eagerly. It was a face of dark Castilian beauty. He turned and looked at Beauvais long and earnestly. There was an answering gaze, an immobility of countenance. Maurice experienced a slight shock. The haze over his memory was dispersed. The whole scene, in which this man loomed in the foreground, came back vividly.

"Your stare, Monsieur, is annoying."

"I shouldn't wonder," replied Maurice, leaning against the mantel.

"Do me the honor to explain it."

Maurice, never dreaming of the trap, fell head foremost into it. "I have traveled a good deal," he began. "I have been-even to South America."

"Ah!" This ejaculation expressed nothing. In fact, Beavais was smiling. There was a sinister something behind that smile, but Maurice was unobservant.

He went on. "Yes, to South America. I was there in a diplomatic capacity, during one of the many revolutions. This country was the paradise of adventurers, the riff-raff of continental social outcasts. I distinctly remember the leader of this revolution. Up to the very last day, Captain Urquijo was the confidential friend of the president whom he was about to ruin. Through the president's beautiful daughter Urquijo picked up his threads and laid his powder train. The woman loved him as women sometimes love rascals. The president was to be assassinated and his rival installed. Captain Urquijo was to be made General of the armies.

"One fine day the troops lined both sides of the plaza, the square also about which lay the government buildings. It was the event of some celebration; I believe the throwning off of the yoke of Spain. The city flocked into the plaza. Strangely enough, those who were disaffected-the soldiers under Urquijo-faced the loyal troops. By a preconceived plan, the artillery was under the command