The Princess Dehra. Scott John Reed
put his arm around her and led her quickly from the room.
VI
THE REWARD OF A MEDDLER
When Ferdinand of Lotzen left the Council, he passed leisurely down the corridor toward one of the private exits. The pressing business that was demanding his immediate attention seemed to bother him no longer, and he even took the trouble to acknowledge the salute of the guard who paced before the main stairway; whereat the man stared after him in unfeigned surprise, until the Duke, suddenly looking back, caught him in the act – and with a frown sent him to the about-face and the far end of his beat.
So no one saw His Highness step quickly over and try the door of the King’s library, and, when it opened to him – as he had anticipated it would, the Princess having come that way to the Council – go in and close it softly behind him. Dropping the lock, he went to the door of the private cabinet (which was between the library and the room used for the Council meetings) and listened. Hearing nothing, he opened it very cautiously and peered inside; no one was there and he fixed the door a bit ajar, so as to be warned if anyone entered from the Council.
The library was a large room, paneled ceiling and sides in wood painted an ivory white; the great, wide windows were half hidden by the Gobelin blue tapestries that hung in folds to the floor; heavy bookcases of carved mahogany lined the walls; the furniture was of the massive Empire style, but the desk was a big, oblong, flat-topped affair that had been made over Frederick’s own design – and which more than compensated in utility for what it lacked in artistry. It pleased its owner and so fulfilled its mission. It stood a little way back from the center of the room, the great crystal chandelier above its outer edge, and all the doors directly in focus of the revolving chair behind it.
It was to this chair that the Duke went and began hurriedly to go through the papers on the desk, yet taking the utmost care not to disturb their arrangement, and replacing them exactly as he found them. Evidently whatever he was seeking was of the sort that needed no examination to prove it, for he passed over letters and written documents without a glance at their contents. It was not on the desk and he began on the drawers, none of which was locked. One after another was searched without success, and the Duke’s brow went blacker and blacker, until, as the last proved barren, he flung himself into the chair, and again ran over the documents on top – and again without finding what he sought.
“It was only a chance,” he muttered, sending his glance around the room, “only a feeble chance;… ‘He was blotting a page as I entered,’ was what she said … and if it were a fresh blotter it might tell the story.” He went over to the vault, the front of which was painted white and paneled to correspond to the walls, and tried the door… “Locked, of course – ”
Suddenly he turned toward the King’s cabinet, listening; then sprang quickly behind one of the window curtains; and its swaying had not ceased when the Princess and Armand entered, on their return from the Council.
Unseen, he was also unseeing; yet hearing, he had little need for eyes – it was easy to picture all that occurred: – Dehra’s pointing out the positions of the King, the Laws and the box; the entry of Adolph; the opening of the vault; the valet’s return with the box; his dismissal; the locking again of the vault. But what then happened always puzzled the Duke – that it was something unexpected was proved by the sudden silence, and pause, before either of them moved, followed at once by the closing of the corridor door.
He waited a moment, until he was sure they had gone, then went to the desk. What had disturbed the American and the Princess – why had their talk ceased so abruptly – why did they wait, unmoving, and then go out together and still unspeaking?.. Had they seen him?.. Impossible; even the window did not show through the tapestry; and he had been against the wall… His gloves – had he let them lie somewhere?.. no, they were drawn through his sword belt… He studied the desk top – the floor – the chairs… They told him nothing;… and, yet, it was very queer… Had any part of him been exposed beyond the curtain? He went back and got behind it … it completely covered him – and as he stood there the cabinet door opened and Adolph came in softly.
He glanced around quickly, then went straight to the vault and began to turn the knob, while the Duke, one eye just beyond the curtain’s edge, watched him curiously. Could it be that this servant was familiar with the combination of the lock, that only the King and Dehra were supposed to know! If so … the bolts shot back, the door opened, and the valet disappeared in the vault. In a moment he came out with the box; but Lotzen did not see him, having drawn behind the curtain; nor did he venture again to look out except when assured that Adolph’s back was toward him.
Placing the box on the desk, the valet laid back the lid and with another furtive look around, went swiftly across to the wall, where hung the big, life-sized portrait of the King, the escutcheon, on the top of the heavy gold frame, almost against the ceiling. Under it was a tall, straight-backed chair, with high arms; and, mounting on them, Adolph reached behind the picture and, from the space between it and the wall, drew out an ancient book, leather-bound and metal-hinged: – the Laws of the Dalbergs.
With a faint chuckle, he sprang down and started toward the box; then stopped – the Book slipped from his fingers – he gasped – his eyes widened in terrified amazement – his face took on the gray pallor of awful fear; for the Duke of Lotzen had emerged from behind the window curtain and was coming slowly toward him.
“You seem startled, Adolph,” said the Duke, with an amused smile, “doubtless you thought you were alone.” He sat down in the revolving chair. “May I trouble you to give me the Book – the floor is hardly the place for the Laws of the Dalbergs.”
The valet’s composure had returned, in a measure, at the tone of the other’s voice, but his hand still trembled as he picked up the Book and carried it to the desk.
“Thank you, Adolph,” said Lotzen, “thank you … you seem a trifle shaky, sit down and rest” (indicating a chair near by). “I shall need you presently.”
He watched the man until he had obeyed, then opened the Laws and turned quickly to the last decree.
Across the page lay a fresh, white blotter, used but twice, he noticed, as he turned it over. He had come for this very bit of paper, that Dehra had casually mentioned in her story to the Council – hoping vaguely that the King had let it lie, and that it had not been destroyed by the servants who cared for the desk. He would have been amply satisfied with the faint chance it might give him of guessing the decree from the few words the mirror would disclose. But, now, he had no need for guesses nor mirrors; and with a light laugh he laid the blotter aside. Surely, the Goddess of Fortune was with him! And to Ferdinand of Lotzen this meant much; for to him there was only one other Divinity, and that other was a female, too.
Thrice he read Frederick’s decree; first rapidly, then slowly, then word by word, as it were.
And all the while Adolph watched him covertly, a sly smile in his small, black eyes. He had quite recovered from his fright – though he might be led to pretend otherwise – indeed, now that he had time to think, he could find no reason why the Duke should punish him; rather did he deserve an ample reward for having kept the Laws from the Council. In fact, why should he not demand a reward, if it were not offered? – demand it discreetly, to be sure, but none the less demand it. And, as the Duke read, and re-read, the reward piled higher, and visions of Paris (it is strange how, under certain conditions, the thoughts of a certain sort of people turn to Paris as instinctively as the needle to the Pole) danced before his eyes… And presently he forgot the Duke, and the Laws, and Dornlitz – he was sitting at a little table along the Boulevard des Italiens, an absinthe at his hand, a merry girl, with sparkling eyes and perfumed hair, at his elbow, a sensuous waltz song in his ears, and light, and life, and love, and lingerie in every breath of air…
“Dreaming, Adolph,” said Lotzen, “dreaming?.. of what, pray?”
“Of Paris, my lord,” he answered unthinkingly.
The Duke regarded him in frowning surprise.
“Paris!” he muttered, “Paris! has everyone gone Paris mad?”
“It was of