Jennie Baxter, Journalist. Barr Robert
he cried; “bring me a letter to her from von Schaumberg, and I’ll pay you what you ask.”
The girl laughed.
“Prince,” she said, “you will excuse me if I call you a fool. There are no letters from von Schaumberg, and I have gone through the whole of the correspondence.”
“What, then, suggested the name von Schaumberg to you? Where did you ever hear it before?”
“I heard that you suspected him of stealing the diamonds.”
“And so he did, the cowardly thief. If it were not for mixing the Princess’s name with such carrion as he, I would—”
But the Prince in his rage stamped up and down the room without saying what he would do. Miss Baxter quickly brought him to a standstill.
“It is contrary to my duty to the Princess,” she began, hesitatingly, when he stopped and turned fiercely upon her.
“What is contrary to your duty?”
“There are letters, tied very daintily with a blue ribbon, and they are from a man. The Princess did not allow me to read them, but locked them away in a secret drawer in her dressing-room, but she is so careless with her keys and everything else, that I am sure I can get them for you, if you want them.”
“Yes, yes, I want them,” said the Prince, “and will pay you handsomely for them.”
“Very well,” replied Miss Baxter, “you shall have them. If you will wait here ten minutes, I shall return with them.”
“But,” hesitated the Prince, “say nothing to the Princess.”
“Oh, no, I shall not need to; the keys are sure to be on her dressing-table.”
Miss Baxter ran down to the room of the Princess, and had little difficulty in obtaining the keys. She unlocked the secret drawer into which she had seen the Princess place the packet of letters, and taking them out, she drew another sheet of paper along with them, which she read with wide-opening eyes, then with her pretty lips pursed, she actually whistled, which unmaidenly performance merely gave sibilant expression to her astonishment. Taking both the packet of letters and the sheet of paper with her, she ran swiftly up the stair and along the corridor to the room where the Prince was impatiently awaiting her.
“Give them to me,” he snapped, rudely snatching the bundle of documents from her hand. She still clung to the separate piece of paper and said nothing. The Prince stood by the window and undid the packet with trembling hands. He examined one and then another of the letters, turning at last towards the girl with renewed anger in his face.
“You are trifling with me, my girl,” he cried.
“No, I am not,” she said stoutly.
“These are my own letters, written by me to my wife before we were married!”
“Of course they are. What others did you expect? These are the only letters, so far as I have learned, that any man has written to her, and the only letters she cares for of all the thousands she has ever received. Why, you foolish, blind man, I had not been in this castle a day before I saw how matters stood. The Princess is breaking her poor heart because you are unkind to her, and she cares for nobody on earth but you, great stupid dunce that you are.”
“Is it true? Will you swear it’s true?” cried the Prince, dropping the packet and going hastily toward the girl. Miss Jennie stood with her back to the wall, and putting her hands behind her, she said,—
“No, no; you are not going to touch me again. Of course it’s true, and if you had the sense of a six-year-old child, you would have seen it long ago; and she paid sixty thousand pounds of your gambling debts, too.”
“What are you talking about? The Princess has never given me a penny of her money; I don’t need it. Goodness knows, I have money enough of my own.”
“Well, Cadbury Taylor said that you—Oh, I’ll warrant you, it is like all the rest of his statements, pure moonshine.”
“Of whom are you speaking? And why did my wife protect that wretch whom she knows has stolen her diamonds?”
“You mean von Schaumberg?”
“Yes.”
“I believe the Princess does think he stole them, and the reason the Princess protects him is to prevent you from challenging him, for she fears that he, being a military man, will kill you, although I fancy she would be well rid of you.”
“But he stole the diamonds—there was nobody else.”
“He did nothing of the kind. Read that!”
The Prince, bewildered, took the sheet that she handed to him and read it, a wrinkle of bewilderment corrugating his brow.
“I don’t understand what this has to do with the case,” he said at last. “It seems to be an order on the bank at Vienna for the diamonds, written by the Princess herself.”
“Of course it is. Well, if the diamonds had been delivered, that paper would now be in the possession of the bank instead of in your hands.”
“Perhaps she mislaid this order and wrote another.”
“Perhaps. Still it might be worth while finding out.”
“Take this, then, to the Princess and ask her.”
“It is not likely she would remember. The better plan is to telegraph at once to the Vienna bank, asking them to send the diamonds to Meran by special messenger. No one there knows that the diamonds are missing.”
“I will do so at once,” cried the Prince, with more animation in his voice than Miss Baxter had previously noticed. His Highness was becoming interested in the game.
After luncheon the Princess came to Miss Baxter, who was seated at her desk, and handed her a letter.
“There is an invitation from the Duchess of Chiselhurst for a grand ball she is shortly to give in her London house. It is to be a very swell affair, but I don’t care enough for such things to go all the way to England to enjoy them. Would you therefore send her Grace my regrets?”
“I will do so at once.”
At that moment there came a messenger from the Prince asking Miss Baxter to meet him in the library. The girl glanced up at the Princess.
“Have I your permission to go?” she said.
The Princess looked at her steadily for a moment, just the faintest suspicion of a frown on her fair brow.
“I do not suppose you need my permission.” Her Highness spoke with slow deliberation. “My husband condescends to take considerable interest in you. Passing along the corridor this morning, I heard your voices in most animated conversation.”
“Had you sufficient interest in our discussion to stop and listen to what we said, Princess von Steinheimer?”
“Ah, now you are becoming insolent, and I must ask you to consider your engagement with me at an end.”
“Surely you will not dismiss me in this heartless way, Princess. I think I am entitled to a month’s notice, or is it only a week’s?”
“I will pay you a year’s salary, or two years’ if that will content you. I have no wish to deal harshly with you, but I desire you to leave at once,” said the Princess, who had little sense of humour, and thus thought the girl was in earnest when she asked for notice.
Miss Baxter laughed merrily, and replied when she was able to control her mirth, “I do hate to leave the castle just when things are becoming interesting. Still, I don’t suppose I shall really need to go away in spite of your dismissal, for the Prince this morning offered me ten times the amount of money you are paying.”
“Did he?”
“Be assured he did; if you don’t believe me, ask him. I told him he was a fool, but, alas, we live in a cynical age, and few men believe all they hear, so I fear my expression of opinion made little impression on