Kitabı oku: «The Princess Dehra», sayfa 13
XVIII
ON TO LOTZENIA
“It is a most amazing situation,” said the Ambassador – as he and the Archduke sat in the latter’s headquarters, the following morning – “and one guess is about as likely to be right as another. It’s difficult to believe Spencer honest, and yet she seemed to play straight last night. She is of the sort who fiercely resent a blow and go to any length to repay it. And you think Bigler’s interruption was not prearranged?”
“It impressed me that way,” said Armand. “In fact, I’d say I am sure of it, if I had any but Lotzen or Spencer to deal with.”
“And you saw enough of the book to be satisfied it is the Laws?”
“To satisfy myself, yes – if that fool, Bigler, had waited a little longer, I would have known beyond a doubt.”
“And, as it is, you can’t be absolutely certain?”
“No; at least, not certain enough to make an open issue of it with Lotzen.”
Courtney shook his head decisively.
“It is a great misfortune you were not able to make sure,” he said; “for I’m persuaded it was not the Book. As I told Her Highness that day at luncheon, if the Duke ever did have it, he has destroyed it to get rid of Frederick’s decree; and if there were no decree, then he would have produced it instantly as establishing his right to the Crown.”
“If that be true – and I grant the logic is not easy to avoid – what was it I saw? I would have sworn it was the Book; it resembled it in every particular.”
Courtney’s fingers went up to his gray imperial, and for a long while he smoked his cigarette and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.
“It is a fine mess,” he said, at length; “Spencer mixes it so abominably. What really brought her to Dornlitz? – how long has she been here? – did the Duke strike her – if there is a plot back of it, why should she have been selected to do the open work with you, of all people? – why, if Lotzen have the Book, doesn’t he destroy it? – why does he want you to see it in his very hands? – why, if he haven’t the Book, does he want to convince you that he has? – … If it’s a plot, then its object was either the one you suggest: to tempt you to violent measures against him to recover the Book, and so to discredit you with the Nobles when it’s not found; or – and this may be the more likely – to inveigle you into a death trap by using the Book as a lure.”
“Either of which,” observed the Archduke, “would explain his preservation of the Book.”
“Or sentiment,” Courtney laughed. “Her Highness thinks the Duke would never destroy the Laws of his House.”
“I fancy she wouldn’t be quite so strong on that now,” Armand observed. “I wish you had seen her last night; she was magnificent, simply magnificent. – Richard, she is the Dalberg of us all! – it’s she, not I, nor Lotzen, who ought to wear the Sapphire Crown.”
Courtney nodded in hearty acquiescence.
“And as she may not, it is for you,” he said, gravely, “to make her a Queen by wearing it yourself – and, as I believe I’ve admonished once or twice heretofore, to do that you must keep alive – dead Archdukes are good only to bury.”
“I’m very much alive,” the other laughed, “more alive than I’ve been since I shed cadet gray.”
“The Lord knows it is not from lack of effort on your part to get killed; you’ve tempted death in every dare-deviltry you could find – and this De Saure house affair is the limit – though last night was about as idiotic. The Princess has more discretion in an eye-lash than you have in your whole head – but for her, you would be surrounded now by tapers and incense – what fresh atrocity against common prudence will you perpetrate next, I wonder!”
The Archduke pushed the decanter across.
“Take another drink, old man,” he grinned, “you must be dry, with such a warm bunch of ideas jostling one another for exit – I’ll promise to be as discreet hereafter as a debutante. I admit the De Saure business appears foolish now, but then, at that hour of night, in darkness, rain and storm, would you, or any other man, have denied a woman’s call for help? I couldn’t.”
“Nor anything else that promises adventure,” said Courtney. “If Lotzen doesn’t make an end of you – ” he shrugged his shoulders and lit another cigarette… “I’ve sworn a dozen resolves to quit advising you; and then, every time I see you, you’ve gone and done some other foolish thing, and I blow off – if you will forgive me this time, and may be a few more times, I’ll not do it again.”
“My dear Dick,” said the Archduke, “the one thing I’ll not forgive is for you not to do it again. You’re the only man in all this land who would speak out his mind to me; and do you think it isn’t welcome – to have something of the old life occasionally?”
For a while both men smoked in silence, the Marshall thoughtfully, the Ambassador waitingly; and in the midst of it Colonel Bernheim entered with a letter for the Archduke, which, he explained, he had just received, enclosed in another envelope addressed to himself and marked “Immediate.”
Armand glanced at Courtney for permission, got it, and read the letter:
“A —
“We are leaving Dornlitz before daybreak by special train, ostensibly for Paris, really for Lotzen Castle. The Duke guessed instantly why you were in my apartments, and what you saw. We had a fearful scene, and he struck me again – the cur! It is the B.; he admitted it, in his rage – and he has it with him. I am a prisoner now, and compelled to accompany him because I know too much, he says. I’m not asking you for rescue, I can manage him in a few days; but if you want the B. you will know now where to get it. I owe you this, for the fiasco last night, due to that fool, B – , though I don’t advise you to follow; Lotzen Castle isn’t Ferida Palace, and I can’t aid you there; and besides, now, he is bent on your death, and intends to kill you at the first opportunity. I will find some way to have this mailed, sending it to Col. Bernheim so it will reach you promptly and not be delayed by official routine.
“M. S.”“3 A. M.”
Without a word, the Archduke passed the letter over to Courtney; and without a word Courtney took it, read it twice, and passed 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 damn 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 Nobles? – 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.
“Dick,” 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’Essoldé 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 Ambassador.
“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.
He bent down over her, as though looking at something in the letter.
“You know I’m not, sweetheart,” he said, “that’s why I want to find the Laws – to make you Queen the sooner.”
“Your Queen?”
“Mine – yes, either here in Valeria, or over the seas in old Hugo’s land – as the Book decides for Lotzen or for me.”
“And do you honestly think, Armand, that he has the Book?”
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Women don’t think – they have only intuition, and mine says that he has.”
“Then I shall go this night – ”
“And I with you.”
“Then I won’t go.”
“Nonsense, dear – why not? Dalberg Castle is always ready, and I shall take the Household, or part of it. I most assuredly would not let you go alone, to be butchered by our dear and loving cousin.”
He knew it was useless to protest.
“Well, come along, little woman,” he said; “and may be, together, we can devise a way for me to get the Book out of Lotzen Castle.”
She turned upon him, full faced and emphatic.
“But I’ll not go, nor shall you,” she declared, “unless you promise you won’t do anything without consulting me. I’m going because you need some one to curb your recklessness; and I have no mind to see you throw your life away just because you won’t take a dare.”
The Archduke gave her cheek a surreptitious pinch.
“I promise,” he laughed; “you’re something of a Dalberg dare-devil yourself when the fever is on – and you’re the finest little comrade and commander God ever made.”
Again she gave him the smile – and they went back to the others.
“Mr. Courtney,” said she, at once, “we are about to spend a short while at Dalberg Castle, going to-night by special train, with a few members of the Household; it will be a great pleasure to Armand and me to have you with us.”
“I am honored,” said the Ambassador, with a grave bow; “I shall be glad to go.”
“Even if you do disapprove,” said she lightly – “but, what would you, monsieur! I don’t want to imprison Armand, so the best thing I can do is to go along and try to take care of him; and that’s where you can help me.”
“And that, Your Highness, is precisely the reason I’m going,” he answered; – “Warwick will stick to his work to the end.”
“The end!” she exclaimed, with sharp seriousness.
“In the great Cathedral yonder,” he answered. – And the Princess, thinking only of the coronation, smiled and glanced with proud faith at the Archduke.
But to the latter the real inference went home, and sharply.
“The crypt, you mean?” he muttered aside.
And Courtney nodded curtly.
“The crypt I mean,” he said. “Even Warwick and Margaret of Anjou together could not save the silly Henry.”
But the old, lean-faced Prime Minister did not deal in inferences when – having come at the Regent’s summons, from his office in the Administration wing of the same building – he was advised of the matter, and that he was to assume charge of the government during her absence.
“Has Your Royal Highness forgot the Chambers meet this day week, and that the Regent must open them in person?” he asked.
“I had forgot,” said she, “but I shall return for it.”
The Count shrugged his shoulders.
“It is not for me to question the Regent’s movements,” he said; “but if you will accept the advice of one who was your father’s friend and trusted servant, and who ventures to think he can, at least in this instance, speak with his dear, dead master’s voice, you will abandon this astonishing intention, that can profit nothing to His Highness’ cause, and will lead him only into dire and awful danger.”
“Will there be no profit in recovering the Book?” she demanded.
“You will not recover it in Lotzenia.”
“The Duke has it; I saw it last night.”
The Count shook his head. “I feel sure that Lotzen hasn’t the Book; but if you are positive, beyond a doubt, then formally demand it as Regent; if he refuse, take half the Army, if need be, and batter down his Castle and get it.”
The Princess laughed. “Now, Count, you know very well that would be the one sure way not to get it – he would destroy it.”
“And himself with it,” said Epping; “for then your testimony would be enough to convict him, and lose him his last chance for election by the Nobles. It would be as effective as to find the Book itself.”
“Your plan does not please me for two reasons,” she answered, promptly and decisively. “It contemplates the destruction of the Laws of the Dalbergs, which I would rather die than be the cause of; and it would permit the House of Nobles to determine the succession to the Throne, a thing hitherto unknown, and to my poor mind subversive of the rights of my House. What we want is the Book, and the way to get it is to take it quietly and by stealth. Hence, I was willing that His Highness should go to Lotzenia, and I with him, to see what might be done.”
“In other words,” said the Count incisively, “you deliberately stake the Archduke Armand’s life for the preservation of the Book.”
The Princess gasped, and her face went white.
“Don’t say it, my child!” the old man exclaimed, “don’t say it! – think a moment first – and then forgive me for having let my affection for you drive my tongue too far.”
And instantly her anger passed; and she went to him and laid her hand on his, where it rested on his sword hilt – while the Archduke spoke quickly.
“Your Excellency does not quite appreciate that the Regent is dealing with a very unruly subject, and one who will not countenance the assault on Lotzen Castle. Neither Her Highness nor myself could stand before the Nobles and affirm on honor and unreservedly that the Duke has the Book, though we think we identified it. But more vital still is the fact that I will not consent to any measures which would drive the Duke to destroy the Book. I am determined to establish my right to the Throne by the Laws of the Dalbergs, and not to owe it to the vote of any man nor set of men. Frankly, my lord, I care so lightly for it, that, but for this little woman here, and to make her the Queen which by birth she ought to be, I would not lift a finger nor move tongue to gain the Crown. And if we are to have it – she and I – it must be with all its ancient rights and authority, unsmirched and unimpaired by the politics and obligations of an election.”
The old Count raised his thin, white hand – his lean face flushed, the fine fire of a hotspur youth glowing in his eyes.
“Go, Sire!” he said, “go; and win your crown as a Dalberg should – and would I were young enough to go with you – as it is, I will hold things stanch for you here.”
XIX
LA DUCHESSE
Madeline Spencer, lying in a languorous coil among the cushions in the deep embrasure of an east window, was gazing in dreamy abstraction across the valley to the mountain spur, five miles away as the bird flies, ten as the road runs, where, silhouetted against the blue of the cloudless sky, rose the huge, gray Castle of Dalberg.
For the last hour, she had been training a field glass on it at short intervals, and presently she levelled it again, and this time she saw what she was waiting for – from the highest tower of the keep the royal standard of Valeria was floating.
For a little while she watched the Golden Lion couchant on its crimson field – lashing its tail in anger with every undulation of the fresh west wind, as though impatient to spring into the valley and ravage and harass it, much as the fierce first Dalberg himself had doubtless done – then she slowly uncoiled herself, and gliding from the ledge swished lightly across to the far door, that led into the Duke of Lotzen’s library.
“Ferdinand,” she said, “they have – ” he was not there, though she had heard him a moment ago singing softly, as was his wont when in particularly good spirits.
She went to his desk and sat down to wait, her eyes straying indifferently over the familiar papers that covered it, until they chanced upon a slender portfolio, she had never before seen, and which, to her surprise, contained only a sheet of blotting paper, about a foot square, folded down the center. Curious, she opened it, to find, on the inside, the stamp of the royal arms, and the marks of a dozen lines of heavy writing, most of it clear and distinct, and made, seemingly, by two impressions, one at each end of the sheet.
What was it doing here? – and why so carefully preserved? – She looked at the writing more attentively – and suddenly one word stood out plain, even if inverted, and under it a date.
Instantly blotter and portfolio were replaced, and she hurried to her boudoir for a mirror. Laying it face upward on the desk, she held the writing over it. A single glance proved her surmise true. Here and there words and letters were missing or were very indistinct, but there could be no doubt that this was the blotter used by King Frederick when he wrote the decree the night before his death. Her hasty reading had found nothing to show the purport of the Law – indeed, it seemed to be only a few lines of the beginning and of the end, including the signature and date – but possibly a closer inspection would reveal more; and so she was about to copy it exactly, when she heard the Duke’s voice in the adjoining room and had time only to hide the mirror and to get the blotter to its place until he came in.
His cold face warmed, as it always did for her, and as it never had done for another woman, and he bowed to her in pleasant mockery.
“Good morning, Duchess,” he said; “what are your orders for the day? – you occupy the seat of authority.”
She got up. “Having no right to the title,” she said, giving him her most winning smile, “I vacate the seat – do you think I look like a duchess?”
“Like a duchess!” he exclaimed, handing her into the chair and leaning over the back, his head close to hers, “like a duchess! you are a duchess in everything but birth.”
“And title,” she added, with a bit of a shrug.
He stroked her soft black hair, with easy fingers.
“The title will be yours when Ferdinand of Lotzen reigns in Dornlitz,” he said.
She bent back her head and smiled into his eyes. It was the first time he had held out any promise as to her place in event of his becoming king, though she had tried repeatedly to draw him to it.
“Would you do that, dear?” she asked, “do you really care enough for me to do that – to acknowledge me so before the world?”
“Yes, Madeline, I think I do,” he said, after a pause, that seemed to her perilously long. “It appears rather retributive that you, who came here, at my instance, to play the wife for the American, should thus have been put, by my own act, into a position where our friendship must be maintained sub rosa. You are quite too clear headed not to appreciate that now, at least, I may not openly parade our relations; to do so would be to end whatever chance I have with the Nobles. But once on the Throne and the power firm in my hand, and they all may go to the devil, and a duchess shall you be – if,” – pinching her cheek – “you will promise to stay away from Paris and the Rue Royale, except when I am with you.”
She wound her lithe arms around his neck, and drew his face close to hers.
“I promise,” she said presently, “I promise… But what if you should miss the Crown? – you could not make me duchess then.”
“Why not, ma belle?” he asked, holding her arms close around his neck. “I shall still be a Duke, and you —la Duchesse de la main gauche.”
She could not suppress the start – though she had played for just such an answer, yet never thinking it would come – and Lotzen felt it, and understood.
“Did that surprise you, little one?” he laughed. “Well, don’t forget, if I miss the Throne, and live, I shan’t be urged to stay in Valeria – in fact, whatever urging there is, will likely be the other way.”
“Banished?” she asked.
He nodded. “Practically that.”
“Paris?” – with a sly smile upward.
He filched a kiss. “Anywhere you like, my dear; but no one place too long.”
She was thinking rapidly – “duchess of the left hand”; – never his duchess in name – never anything but a morganatic wife to whom no title passed; but what mattered the title, if she got the settlements, and all the rest. And Ferdinand was easy enough to manage now, and would be, so long as the infatuation held him; afterward – at least the settlements and the jewels would remain.
Truly she had won far more than she had sought or even dreamed of – and won it, whether Lotzen got the Crown or exile. The only risk she ran was his dying, and it must be for her to keep him out of danger – away from the Archduke and his friends, where, she knew, death was in leash, straining to be free and at him. Hitherto she had thought her only sure reward lay in Ferdinand as king; in his generosity for a little while; and so she had been very willing to stake him for success. Now she must reverse her method – no more spurring him to seek out the Archduke and dare all on a single fight; instead, prudence, discretion, let others do the open work and face the hazards.
She gave a satisfied little sigh and drew him close.
“May be you doubt it, dear,” she said, “but I can be very docile and contented – and I shall prove it, whether as duchess of the right hand or the left.”
He laughed, and shook his head.
“You, docile and contented! never in this world; nor do I want you so – I prefer you as you are; you may lose me, if you change.”
“Then I’ll not change, dear,” she whispered, and kissed him lightly and arose.
He reached out quickly to draw her back, but she eluded him.
“Nay, nay, my lord,” she smiled; “I must not change, you said.”
“Don’t go away,” he insisted; “stay with me a little longer.”
She sat down across the desk from him.
“I almost forgot what I came for,” she said. “Do you know they have come? – the flag went up a little while ago.”
He nodded. “Yes, I know – a whole train load and half the Household: – the Regent, the American, Moore, Bernheim, De Coursey, Marsov, the scheming Courtney, damn him, and a lot of women, including, of course, the Radnor girl. For a pursuit with deadly intent, it’s the most amazing in the annals of war. Under all the rules, the American and a few tried swords should have stolen into Dalberg Castle, with every precaution against our knowing they had come; instead, they arrive with the ostentation of a royal progress, and fling out the Golden Lion from the highest tower.”
“What are you going to do first?” she asked.
“Nothing – it’s their move. They have come for the Book, and they must seek it here.”
She was idly snapping the scissors through a sheet of paper and simply smiled her answer.
“Give me a cigarette, dear,” she said, after a pause, “I’ve left mine in my room.”
He searched his pockets for his case; then tumbled the papers on the desk, she aiding and very careful to leave exposed the portfolio that contained the blotter.
“Oh, there it is,” she exclaimed, “on the table, yonder;” and when he went for it she drew out the blotter and feigned to be examining it.
“Here, little one,” he said, tossing her the case – then he saw what she had, and for the shadow of an instant, which she detected, he hesitated – “fix one for me,” he ended, and sat down, seemingly in entire unconcern.
“Bring me a match,” she ordered, eyes still on the blotter, as she opened the case and took out a cigarette… “There, I spoil you.” She laid down the sheet and lit another Nestor for herself. “Ferdinand,” said she, turning half around in her chair and looking up at him, “just where is this wonderful Book of Laws?”
“Here, in this drawer,” opening one beside her, showing the same package wrapped in black cloth that Armand and Dehra had seen in Ferida Palace.
“I don’t mean that one,” said she. “I mean the real Book.”
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. Damn it, why couldn’t it have had the middle of the decree instead of both ends!” and in marvellously assumed 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.
“Because, my dear, I’m the only one who knows it’s there – listen, and I’ll tell you how it happened.”
At last! at last! she was to know – and she nestled close to him and waited. Truly, this was her day. And he told all, not even omitting the killing of the valet.
Her first question was typical of her mind, it went straight to the crux of the whole matter.
“But why can’t you get the Book?” she asked.
“Because I can’t get at it. The infernal American has put a cordon of troops around the Palace, so that it’s impossible to pass at night without declaring myself; Moore occupies the library; and finally the combination on the vault has been changed.”
“Isn’t it absurd?” said she; “the Book actually in its place and yet lost.” – She sat up sharply. “Do you really want it, Ferdinand? – because, if you do, may be I can help you.”
“Assuredly I want it. If the decree is against me, we will destroy the Book and go on with our game.”
“Then, dear, let us go after it – and now, now! The Regent is absent, hence less vigilance in the Palace; Moore is with her, hence the library is deserted; it should be easy for you to get us in it by day and unsuspected.”
“And having blown open the vault, be caught in the act,” he smiled.
“That is where I come in, dear; I will engage to open it, noiselessly, and in less than fifteen minutes, too.”
“Is it possible that you are one of those wonder workers who can feel a combination?”
“Yes,” said she, “though I’ve not tried it for years.”
“Come, come, try it now!” indicating a small iron safe in the far corner.
She went to it, and sinking to the floor with sinuous grace, she put her ear close to the dial plate and fell to manipulating the knob with light fingers; turning it back and forth very slowly and with extreme care.
And the Duke, leaning against the safe, watched her with eager eyes – could she do it? – if she could —
Mrs. Spencer sprang up.
“That was easy,” she said.
Lotzen reached over and seized the handle; the bolts snapped back and the door swung open.
With the first burst of impulse she had ever seen him display, he whirled and caught her in his arms.
“We will win now, my duchess!” he exclaimed, “we will win sure. No burglarious entry – no explosion – no flight; instead, the Duke of Lotzen and his Aide will go openly to the library, and then in a trice will we have the Book and be gone… And I shall owe it all to you, dear —ma chérie duchesse.”
She closed her eyes; truly, this was her day!
