The Princess Dehra. Scott John Reed
and brow went ruddy and his fingers chill. It was for him to speak, he knew, yet speak he could not. But when led by Count Epping, they crowded close about him and bent knee and would have kissed his hand, he drew back and waved them up.
“I thank you, my lords, I thank you from my heart,” he said gravely, “though not yet will I assume to accept either the homage or the greeting. They belong to him who is King of Valeria, and whether I be he I do not know. As the eldest male, the presumption is with me; yet as the monarch has full power to choose his successor from any of the Dalbergs, it may have been his pleasure, under the peculiar conditions now existing, to name another as his heir. Hence it is my purpose to submit to you the Book of Laws, that you may inspect the decrees and ascertain to whom the Crown descends. I am informed this is a proceeding utterly unknown; that the Dalberg Laws are seen only by Dalberg eyes. Yet, as I apprehend there will be another claimant, who will have a hearty following, and as, in the end, it is the Laws that will decide between us, it is best they should decide now. If, by them, I am King of Valeria I will assume the Crown and its prerogatives; and if I am not King, then I will do homage to him who is, and join with you in his service.”
He paused, and instantly General Duval flashed up his sword.
“God save Your Royal Highness!” he cried. “God grant that you be King.”
And as the others gave it back for answer, their blades locked above the Archduke’s head, the corridor door behind them swung open, and Ferdinand of Lotzen entered and, unnoticed, came slowly down the room.
All night, with a clear track and a special train, he had been speeding to the Capital, anxious and fearful, for in an inter-regnum hours count as days against the absent claimant to a throne. But when, at the station, he learned from Baron Rosen that the Proclamation had not yet been issued and the Council had been called for ten o’clock, the prospect brightened, and he hurried to the Palace.
Yet there was small encouragement in the scene before him, though the words of the acclaim and the black box on the table puzzled him. Why, with the Laws at their disposal, should there be any doubt as to who was King! So he leaned upon a chair and waited, a contemptuous smile on his lips, a storm of hate and anger in his heart. Those shouts, those swords, those ardent faces should all have been his; would all have been his, but for this foreigner, this American, this usurper, this thief. And his fingers closed about his sword’s hilt and, for the shadow of an instant, he was tempted to spring in and drive the blade through his rival’s throat. But instead he laughed – and when at the sound they whirled around, he laughed again, searching the while every face with his crafty eyes, and, save in Retz’s, finding no trace of confusion nor regret.
“A pretty picture, messieurs,” he jeered, “truly, a pretty picture – pray don’t let me disturb it; though I might inquire, since when has the Royal Council of Valeria gone in for private theatricals!”
And Armand promptly gave him back his laugh.
“Our cousin of Lotzen appears in good time,” he said very softly. “Will he not come into the picture?”
Ferdinand shook his head. “In pictures of that sort, there can be but one central figure,” he answered.
The Archduke swung his hand toward the Ministers.
“True, quite true,” said he; “but there is ample space for Your Royal Highness in the background.”
Lotzen’s face went white, and he measured Armand with the steady stare of implacable hate, though on his lips the sneering smile still lingered.
And presently he answered: “I trust, monsieur, you will not mistake my meaning, when I assure you that there isn’t space enough in such a picture to contain us both.”
“It is a positive pleasure, Monsieur le Duc,” returned Armand quickly, “to find, at last, one matter in which our minds can meet.”
And so, for a time, they stood at gaze, while the others watched them, wondering and in silence. Then the Archduke spoke again:
“And now, my dear cousin, since we understand each other, I suggest we permit the Royal Council to continue its session. Be seated, messieurs;” and with a nod to the Ministers, he resumed his place at the head of the table.
Instantly Lotzen stepped forward.
“My lords,” he cried, “as Heir Presumptive I claim the Throne of Valeria. I call upon you, in the name of the House of Dalberg, to acknowledge me and to proclaim my accession.”
“Upon what does Your Royal Highness rest your claim?” Count Epping asked formally.
The Duke pointed to the box; he saw now it was shut tight and the key not in the lock – and this, with what had occurred as he entered, undoubtedly indicated either that the Book had not yet been examined or that it contained no decree fixing the Succession. In either event, he stood a chance to win; and, at least, he had need for time.
“Upon the Laws of the Dalbergs,” he replied, raising his hand in salute; “and under which, as you all well know, I have been the Heir Presumptive since my father’s death.”
“And you will accept them as final arbiter between us?” asked Armand quickly.
Ferdinand turned and looked at him fixedly.
“For the Crown, yes,” he said very softly; and not a man but understood the limitation and the challenge.
And the Archduke smiled, and answered in a voice even softer and more suave.
“So be it – I will chance the rest.” Then he addressed the Council. “His Excellency, the Prime Minister, has the key to the box; with your permission I will ask him to explain when and under what circumstances he got it.”
And the Count took care that Armand should lose nothing in the telling, and when he had finished, he drew out the queer little key, and holding it so all could see looked at the two Dalbergs inquiringly.
“Shall I unlock the box?” he asked; and both nodded.
But the key would enter only a little way; and while the Count worked with it, Armand remembered suddenly the unusual motion Frederick had used the day he showed him the Laws.
“Turn the bit sidewise and push down and in,” he said. And at once the key slipped into place and the lock snapped open.
At the sound, the Ministers eagerly craned forward; but the Count did not offer to lift the lid until he received the Archduke’s nod; then he slowly laid it back, and leaning over peered inside. And he peered so long, that Lotzen grew impatient.
“The Laws, Epping, the Laws,” he said sharply; “let us have them, man.”
The Count looked at him and then at Armand.
“The box is empty,” he said.
IV
THE PRESUMPTION SHIFTS
Into the silence of amazement that ensued, came the Duke’s sneering laugh.
“Surely, surely, you didn’t think to find it otherwise!” he said.
His insinuation was so apparent that the Archduke turned upon him instantly.
“Don’t be a coward, Ferdinand of Lotzen,” he said. “Speak plainly; do you mean to charge me with having removed the Book from the box?”
The Duke bowed. “Just that, Your Royal Highness,” he said; “just that, since you must have it – you Americans are so blunt of speech.”
Armand leaned forward. “The only way to deal with a liar,” he answered, “is to put him where he can’t lie out.”
Ferdinand shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. “You play it very cleverly, cousin mine, but the logic of elimination is against you. I assume you will not accuse our dear dead master of having hid the Laws; and since his decease, the key, you admit, has been with only you and His Excellency, the Prime Minister. I assume also you will acquit Count Epping – I am quite sure I will – and so we come back to – you.”
The Archduke had long ago learned that in