"I didn't admit it," she said. "We only admit things against our will, don't we? I told you gladly."

"And now--!" He held his breath as he looked into her eyes.

"Now I am the Queen of a hideous little Kingdom," she shuddered. "It wouldn't do for me to say it now, would it?"

"Oh!" The man leaned again heavily on the rail. The monosyllable was eloquent. Impulsively she bent toward him, then caught herself. For a moment she looked out at the water undulating under the moon like mother-of-pearl on a waving fan. "But it was all right to say I loved you then," she went on reflectively, after a pause. "I had a perfect right then to tell you that I loved you better than all the small total of the world beside, and--" her voice faltered for a moment--"and," with a musical laugh, she illogically added, "I have nothing to take back of what I then said, though of course I can't ever say it again."

CHAPTER XXII

THE SENTRY BOX ANSWERS THE KING'S QUERY

Several days later, Blanco arrived in Puntal shortly after the lazy noon hour.

Out of disconnected fragments of fact and memory he had evolved a theory. It was a theory as yet immature and half-baked, but one upon which he resolved to act, trusting to the lucky outcome of subsequent events for the filling in of many gaps, and the making good of many deficiencies.

Among the shreds of fragmentary information which Manuel had previously stored away in his memory was the fact that one Jose Reebeler was a capitalist. This was not exclusive information. Every guide and casual acquaintance hastened to sing for the newcomer the saga of Reebeler's importance. One was informed that this magnate owned the three tourist hotels and their acres of vine-covered gardens; that he controlled the half-humorous pretense of a street-railway company and that even the huge, dominating rock upon which perched the pavilions and casino of the Strangers' Club was his property. Still more significant, to Blanco's reasoning, was the fact that Reebeler, though Puntal-born, was of British parentage and that over his house, in the _Ruo do Consilhiero_, floated both British and American flags, while the double coat-of-arms above his balcony proclaimed him the consular agent of both governments.

Here, reasoned Blanco, was a man shielded behind the devices of two nations, neither of which was engaged in petty Mediterranean intrigue.

He would be the last man in Puntal to challenge a suspicious glance from the Palace, yet as a man of moneyed enterprise his wish for concessions might well give a political coloring to his thoughts. Somewhere he had heard that the Strangers' Club aspired to the establishment of a gambling Mecca which should rival Monte Carlo in magnitude and that the present impediment was the frown of the government upon such a wholesale gambling enterprise. It was quite unlikely that the Delgado government would discourage a syndicate which could turn a munificent revenue into its taxing coffers.

Through a shaded courtyard where a small fountain tinkled, Blanco strolled to the Consular office and rapped on the door. He was conducted by a native servant to an inner room. Here, while a great blue-bottle fly droned and thumped, Reebeler, a heavy Briton with mild eyes, sprawled his length in a wicker chair and poured brandy and soda. First Blanco represented himself as an adoptive American, touring the world and interested in natural resources. When his host had exhausted the subject of the wine-grower's battle against the ravages of "_oidium Tuckeri_" and "_phyloxera_," Blanco picked up a stick of sealing-wax from the table and commenced toying with it in a manner of aimlessness.

He struck match after match and melted pellet after pellet of wax, then absently he took from his pocket a gold seal-ring and made, with its shield, several impressions on the wax. Reebeler's eyes were half-closed as he gazed vacantly at the pigeons cooing and strutting in his courtyard.

"See, I have at last got a good impression." The Spaniard idly tossed over the sc.r.a.p of paper upon which he had stamped a half-dozen of Louis Delgado's crests from the die of the Comptessa Astaride's ring.

The Consul took the fragment of paper with the manner of one forced by politeness to a.s.sume an interest in trivialities which bore him.

"See how clearly the device of His Grace stands out in the last impression," casually suggested Blanco, then with eyes narrowly bent on the other he saw the astonished start as his vis-a-vis realized what device had been imprinted on the paper. It was the sign for which he had played. When Reebeler's eyes came up questioningly to his own, he, too, was looking off through the raised window where the limp curtain barely trembled in the light breeze.

"The ring is interesting," suggested the Consul.

"The arms seem to be those of a family of Galavia which is connected with Royalty. Did you pick it up in a curio shop? If so, some servant must have stolen it."

Blanco stood up. "We waste time fencing, _Senor_ Reebeler," he said, "His Grace, Louis Delgado, was held captive by the King until several days ago. He then escaped. That escape has been kept secret by the King.

Only men in the Duke's confidence know of it. I am in the service of His Grace and I report to you. In these times we do not carry signed letters of introduction--those of us at least who are not protected behind the insignia of Consular office."

There was a long silence. Reebeler, under the influence of brandy and perplexity, breathed heavily. Blanco poured from a squat bottle and watched the soda bubble in the gla.s.s.

Finally the Consul inquired with a show of indifference: "Why do you a.s.sume that I know anything of this matter?"

Blanco laughed. "I have already told you that I come from His Grace.

Naturally His Grace knew to whom to commend me. I have frankly given myself into your hands by declaring my sentiments. On the other hand, you decline a similar confidence. You are discreet." He waved his hand.

"_Adios_."

"Wait." The Consul stopped him at the door. He paused, cleared his throat and then abruptly suggested: "Suppose you return to-morrow at six."

The Spaniard bowed. "I only wish you to test me, _Senor_."

That evening Blanco knew that he was being shadowed. The next day he had the same sense of being incessantly watched. This was a thing which he had expected and for which he was prepared. Promptly at six o'clock he returned to the _Rue do Consilhiero_.

He knew that his greatest danger lay in the possibility of communication by the conspirators with the Duke or the Countess, but he had been a.s.sured that Marie Astaride was in Cairo and it could safely be a.s.sumed that Delgado would return to Galavia only at the psychological moment.

If either of these a.s.sumptions were false Louis would, of course, recognize the description of his kidnapper. The Countess would connect the episode of the ring with the former checkmating of her plans. At all events, he must chance those possibilities.

This time the Consulate was discreetly shut in by drawn jealousies.

Within, beside Reebeler himself, were a number of men, all of whom narrowly scrutinized the newcomer. Those who were not in uniform carried themselves with a c.o.c.ky smartness that belied their civilian clothes. The man from Cadiz returned their gaze with the same imperturbable steadiness and the same concealed wariness which he had employed when, in the _Plaza de Toros_, he awaited the charge of the bull.

For a time they allowed him to stand in silence under the embarra.s.sing batteries of their eyes, then an elderly officer a.s.sumed the position of spokesman.

"If you are a spy your experience will be brief," he announced.

Blanco smiled.

"That is as it should be, _Senor_. Spies are not ent.i.tled to an old age."

"We are going to test you," continued the officer. "We have need of men of courage. If, as you claim, the Duke sent you, he must have done so because he regarded you as available. If you prove trustworthy, all right. If not, it is your misfortune, because in the place where we mean to use you you will have no opportunity to betray us, and a very excellent opportunity of meeting death. We cannot now communicate with His Grace for corroboration, so we shall let you prove yourself. You seem to bear no message from the Duke. That has the smell of suspicion."

"On the contrary," retorted the Spaniard, "the Duke believed that a man who was a stranger might prove of value. I was to take my instructions from you."

Blanco wondered vaguely what the future held for him. Evidently their acceptance of his services was to bear a close resemblance to imprisonment. He could see in the programme small opportunity to serve the King. His instructions had been to win into their confidence and do what he could.

Two weeks later, in the small garden giving off from the King's private apartments, and perched half-way up the b.u.t.tressed side of the rock on which sat the Palace, Karyl impatiently awaited the coming of Colonel Von Ritz. Below he could hear a bra.s.s band in the Botanical Gardens and out in the bay a German war-ship, decorated for a dance, blazed like a set piece in a pyrotechnic display.

There was peace, summer, perfume, in the moonlit air and Karyl smiled ironically as he reflected that even the bodyguard so carefully selected by Von Ritz might at any moment enter the place and raise the shout of "Long live King Louis!"

Leaning over the parapet, he could see one of his fantastically uniformed soldiery pacing back and forth before a sentry-box, his musket jauntily shouldered, and a bayonet glinting at his belt. Karyl stood looking, and his lips curled skeptically as he wondered whether the man would repel or admit a.s.sa.s.sins.

Somewhat wearily the King turned and leaned on the stone coping of the outer wall. He was at one end where a shadow cloaked him, but he lighted a cigarette and the match that flared up threw an orange-red light on his face, showing eyes which were l.u.s.terless. For a few moments he held the match in his hollowed palms, coaxing its blaze in the breeze. Before it had burned out there came a sharp report and Karyl heard the spat of flattening lead on the masonry at his back. The echo rattled along the rocky side of the hill. One of the sentry-boxes had answered his unasked question of loyalty.

He waited. There was no rush of feet. No medley of anxiously inquiring voices. Others had heard the report, of course, yet no one hastened to inquire and investigate. The King, pacing farther back where his silhouette was less clearly defined, laughed again, very bitterly.

Finally Von Ritz came. "It seems that we can rely on no one," he said.

"The Palace Guard had been picked from the few in whom I still believed.

I had hoped there was a trustworthy remnant."

"One of them has just tried a shot at me with one of my own muskets."

The King spoke impersonally as though the matter bore only on the psychic question of trusting men. "The spot is there on the wall." Then he added with bitter whimsicality: "It seems to me, Colonel, that we have either very poor marksmen in our service, or else we supply them with very poor rifles."

For a moment Von Ritz almost smiled. "I was pa.s.sing the point as he touched the trigger, Your Majesty," he replied with calmness. "I will personally vouch for his future harmlessness."

The lighted door, at the same moment, framed the figure of an aide.

"Your Majesty," he said with a bow, "Monsieur Jusseret prays a brief audience."

Karyl turned to Von Ritz, his brows arching interrogation. In answer the Colonel wheeled and addressed the officer, who waited statuesquely: "His Majesty will not receive Monsieur Jusseret. Any matters of interest to France will receive His Majesty's attention when they reach him through France's properly accredited amba.s.sador."