"Yes," a.s.sented her father. "Yes--yet wait a minute, Susie," and he stopped, his eyes on Markeld. "I'd hate to think I'd done any other man the same injustice I did that young Englishman. Perhaps the Prince of Markeld has also an explanation. If so, I shall be very glad to hear it."

Susie's hand trembled on her father's arm, and she caught her breath with a little gasp; but she kept her eyes steadily on the floor--she had pride enough for that. Oh, she rejoiced that she had pride enough for that!

The Prince gazed at her a moment, then, with face ashy gray, he shook his head.

"I have none," he said, in a low voice, and Susie shivered at the words.

"But I have!" cried some one from the door; and, turning, they beheld there on the threshold a handsome old lady, with hair snowy white, figure erect, face imperious--the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Markheim. Behind her, in the twilight of the hall, could be dimly seen the mustachios of Monsieur Tellier, with Gluck's face glaring at him. "I am not so proud,"

she went on, advancing into the room. "I am quite willing to give my reasons for breaking off the match. Is this the girl?" she asked, abruptly.

Susie looked at her with fiery eyes; their glances crossed; one almost expected to see the sparks fly as of two blades meeting.

"I am not hard-hearted," continued the d.u.c.h.ess, after a moment. "But there are certain affairs of state which must always take precedence of any mere personal inclination. Did _I_ marry to please myself?" and her voice shook a little. "By no means--it is no secret. Yet I was faithful to my husband and to my house. I have never regretted it. Now all that I have left to love is that boy yonder, and I intend to see that he makes a match which is worthy of him. Yes, I love him--but he must not degrade his name--not even for his happiness. It was solicitude for him that brought me here--I feared--"

Her voice broke; perhaps she had a vision of that tragedy fifty years ago, when, at her mother's side, she had stared out through the mists of the morning--

"But no matter," she added, hastily.

"May I ask, madame," inquired Rushford, "how marriage with my daughter would degrade your nephew?"

"It is impossible, in the first place," she answered, readily, "that he should marry the daughter of an inn-keeper."

"Of an inn-keeper?" repeated Rushford, in a puzzled tone.

"You are the proprietor of this inn, are you not?" demanded the d.u.c.h.ess. "Tellier, here has the papers. Come forward, Tellier."

"Oh, I understand," and Rushford laughed, not pleasantly. "No, I didn't tell you, Susie," he added, catching his daughter's astonished glance.

"It was merely an escapade of mine. I was bored, and so I arranged with Pelletan to have a little fun by backing the hotel for a month--Pelletan had reached the end of his resources. He'd have had to shut up shop, and I didn't want to move. I a.s.sure you, madame, that at home I am not an inn-keeper. If I was, I shouldn't be in the least ashamed of it, unless I were a bad one. Suppose we pa.s.s on to the next count."

There was a movement at the door and Nell came running to her father and threw her arms about him. Cranford followed her and held out his hands.

"Congratulate me," he said, simply, but with shining face.

"I do," said Rushford, and kissed his daughter. "It seems we've got your difficulty happily settled, Nell; but we've another on hand which seems considerably more complicated. Now, madame, if you will proceed with the indictment."

The d.u.c.h.ess seemed a little shaken; after all, a man who could play with great hotels demanded some consideration!

"The second reason is even more serious," she said, "at least, my nephew seemed to so consider it. He laughed at the first one; he is still young; he still believes in the nonsense of the romancers."

"Does he?" commented Rushford. "That's one point in his favour, certainly. So he would have married my daughter, would he, even though I did keep a hotel! That was kind of him! What's the next count, madame?"

"It is that your daughter, while pretending to be his advocate, was really in the plot against him--a double traitor to him because posing as his friend."

"In the plot?" cried Cranford. "But that's absurd! She was not in the plot!"

"Is it the head of the plot who is addressing me?" inquired the d.u.c.h.ess, icily. "No doubt my nephew has already told you--"

The Prince stopped her.

"The Viscount Cranford answers to me," he said, briefly.

The d.u.c.h.ess paled as she looked at him.

"Not that, Fritz!" she cried. "Not that!"

"Too late, madame," he said. "My honour demands it."

The d.u.c.h.ess shivered, and her face seemed suddenly to shrink and age.

Then she stood proudly upright. What honour demanded she would be the last to evade.

"Perhaps monsieur will deny," she said, looking at Cranford, coldly, "that he wrote this note to her and her sister the very first day of his sojourn here?" and she held out to him the slip of paper.

Cranford took it and read it at a glance, while Nell stared at it with starting eyes.

"No," he said, "I don't deny that I wrote it; but--"

"And perhaps mademoiselle herself will deny that she a.s.serted to Monsieur Tellier that she did not know her rescuer? Here are her words,"

and she produced a second note.

"I deny nothing," said Susie, proudly, and she looked the d.u.c.h.ess unflinchingly in the face.

Cranford walked straight over to the Prince of Markeld.

"Wasn't it Miss Rushford who told you?" he asked.

"No, it was the note," answered the Prince, fiercely.

"Which Tellier stole from Miss Rushford's desk," added Cranford, sternly, "leaving this tracing in its stead," and he took from his pocketbook a slip of paper. "Such methods are doubtless characteristic of the Paris police, but they seem to me almost as unworthy as those employed by us."

"You are right," agreed the Prince, his face livid. "That dog shall pay for it!"

"My nephew had nothing whatever to do with it," broke in the d.u.c.h.ess, sharply. "It was I who secured the note, who persuaded him to--"

But the Prince stopped her with a gesture.

"Miss Rushford was not in the plot," continued Cranford, earnestly. "I hope you will believe me. That it should have come so near wrecking my own life was bad enough; that it should wreck another's--an innocent person's--that would be frightful! She warned me explicitly that she would no longer be a party to the deception, that she was going to tell you--I thought she had told you. I remember well how warmly she spoke of your cause; how she detested the course I was pursuing--how she made me ashamed of myself--ashamed to look at her. I suppose some mistaken notion of honour held her back from telling, since it was in her service and her sister's that I had disclosed myself--"

"A message for His Lordship," said Pelletan from the door.

Cranford took it.

"You will pardon me," he said. "It is marked urgent," and he tore it open. His face brightened as he read it. "Monsieur le Prince," he said, warmly, turning to Markeld, "I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart!" and he handed him the message.

Markeld took the paper and glanced at it, then, with beaming eyes, held out his hand. And the d.u.c.h.ess, looking on, grew suddenly young again!

"What is it?" she demanded. "Don't you see we are all waiting?"

"'Prince George, of Schloshold, has just died of an apoplexy,'" the Prince read. "'You will inform the Prince of Markeld that we will support his house to the limit of our power. Vernon,'"