"I will be quite candid with you, Mr. Greatson," the Archd.u.c.h.ess continued. "My interest in the girl arises, of course, from the wonderful likeness to my own daughter, and to other members of my family. Your ward herself was obviously struck with it. I must confess that I, too, received something of a shock."

"I think," I answered, "that it was apparent to all of us."

The Archd.u.c.h.ess coughed. For a Royal personage, she seemed to find some little difficulty in proceeding.

"The history of our family is naturally a matter of common knowledge,"

she said slowly. "Any connection with it, therefore, which this child might be able to claim would be of that order which you, as a man of the world, would doubtless understand. Nevertheless, I am sufficiently interested in her to be inclined to take any steps which might be necessary for her welfare. I propose to set some enquiries on foot.

Providing that the result of them be as I suspect, I presume you would have no objection to relinquish the child to my protection?"

"Your Highness," I answered, "I could not answer such a question as that without consideration, or without consulting Isobel herself."

The Archd.u.c.h.ess frowned upon me, and I was at once made conscious that I had fallen under her displeasure. I fancy, however, that I appeared as I felt, quite unimpressed.

"I cannot understand any hesitation whatsoever upon your part, Mr.

Greatson," she said. "Under my care the child's future would be fittingly provided for. Her position with you must be, at the best, an equivocal one."

"Your Highness," I answered steadily, "my friends and I are handicapped perhaps by our s.e.x, but we have a housekeeper who is an old family servant, and a model of respectability. In all ways and at all times we have treated Isobel as a very dear sister. The position may seem an equivocal one--to a certain order of minds. Those who know us, I may venture to say, see nothing harmful to the child in our guardianship."

The Archd.u.c.h.ess stared at me, and I gathered that she was not used to anything save implicit obedience from those to whom she made suggestions. She stared, and then she laughed softly. There was more than a spice of malice in her mirth.

"Which of you three young men are going to fall in love with her?" she asked bluntly. "You call her a child, but she is almost a woman, and she is beautiful. She will be very beautiful."

"Your Highness," I answered coldly, "it is a matter which we have not as yet permitted ourselves to consider."

The Archd.u.c.h.ess was displeased with me, and she took no further pains to hide her displeasure.

"Mr. Greatson," she said, with a little wave of dismissal, "for the present I have no more to say."

She turned her back upon me, and I at once left the Gallery.

CHAPTER II

I walked home with but one thought in my mind. The Archd.u.c.h.ess had put into words--very plain, blunt words--what as yet I had scarcely dared harbour in my mind as a fugitive idea. She had done me in that respect good service. She had brought to a sudden crisis an issue which it was folly any longer to evade. I meant to speak now, and have done with it.

I walked through the busy streets a dreaming man. It was for the last time. Henceforth, even the dream must pa.s.s.

I found Mabane and Arthur alone, for which I was sufficiently thankful.

There was no longer any excuse for delay. Mabane had taken possession of the easy-chair, and was smoking his largest pipe. Arthur was walking restlessly up and down the room. Evidently they had been discussing between them the events of the afternoon, for there was a sudden silence when I entered, and they both waited eagerly for me to speak. I closed the door carefully behind me, and took a cigarette from the box on my desk.

"What did the Archd.u.c.h.ess want?" Arthur asked bluntly.

"I will tell you all that she said presently," I answered. "In effect, it was the same as the others. She, too, wanted Isobel!"

"Shall we have to give her up?" Arthur demanded.

"We will discuss that another time," I said. "I am glad to find that you are both here. There is another matter, concerning which I think that we ought to come to an understanding as soon as possible. It has been in my mind for a long while."

"About Isobel?" Arthur interrupted.

"About Isobel!" I a.s.sented.

They were both attentive. Mabane's expression was purely negative.

Arthur, on the other hand, was distinctly nervous. I think that from the first he had some idea what it was that I wanted to say.

"Isobel, when she came to us little more than a year ago," I continued, "was a child. We have always treated her, and I believe thought of her, as a child. It was perhaps a daring experiment to have brought her here at all, and yet I am inclined to think that, under the circ.u.mstances, it was the best thing for her, and, from another point of view, an excellent thing for us!"

"Excellent! Why, it has made all the difference in the world," Arthur declared vigorously.

"I see that you follow me," I agreed. "Her coming seems to have steadied us up all round. The changes which we were obliged to make in our manner of living have all been for the better. I am afraid that we were drifting, Allan and I, at any rate into a somewhat objectless sort of existence, and our work was beginning to show the signs of it. The coming of Isobel seems to have changed all that. You, Allan, know that you have never done better work in your life than during the last year.

Your portrait of her was an inspiration. Some of those smaller studies show signs of a talent which I think has surprised everyone, except Arthur and myself, who knew what you could do when you settled down to it. I, too, have been more successful, as you know. I have done better work, and more of it. You agree with me so far, Allan?"

"There is no doubt at all about it," Mabane said slowly. "There has been a different atmosphere about the place since the child came, and we have thrived in it. We are all better, much the better, for her coming!"

"I am glad that you appreciate this, Allan," I said. "This sort of thing is rather hard to put into words, but I believe that you fellows understand exactly what I mean. We have had to amuse her, and in doing so we have developed simpler and better tastes for ourselves. We've had to give up a lot of things, and a lot of friends we've been much better without."

"It's true, every word of it, Arnold," Mabane admitted, knocking out the ashes from his pipe. "We've chucked the music-halls for the theatres, and our lazy slacking Sundays, with a night at the club afterwards, for long wholesome days in the country--very jolly days, too. We're better men in our small way for the child's coming, Arnold. You can take that for granted. Now, go on with what you have to say. I suppose this is all a prelude to something or other."

Even then I hesitated, for my task was not an easy one, and all the while Arthur, who maintained an uneasy silence, was watching me furtively. It was as though he knew from the first what it was that I was leading up to, and I seemed to be conscious already of his pa.s.sionate though unspoken resistance.

"It was a child," I said at last, "whom we took into our lives. To-day she is a woman!"

Then Arthur could keep silence no longer. There was a pink flush in his cheeks, which were still as smooth as a girl's, but the pa.s.sion in his tone was the pa.s.sion of a man.

"You are not thinking, Arnold--you would not be so mad as to think of giving her up to any of these people?" he exclaimed. "They are her enemies, all of them. I am sure of it!"

"I am coming to that presently," I went on. "You know what happened this afternoon? You saw the likeness, the amazing likeness, between Isobel and that other girl, the daughter of the Archd.u.c.h.ess. The Archd.u.c.h.ess was herself very much impressed with it. Without a doubt she knows Isobel's history. She went so far as to tell me that she believed Isobel to be morganatically connected with her own family, the House of Waldenburg! She offered to take her under her own protection!"

"You did not consent!" Arthur exclaimed.

"I neither consented nor absolutely refused," I answered. "It was not a matter to be decided on the spur of the moment. But the more I think of it, the more I am puzzled. Madame Richard wants Isobel. She was not satisfied with our refusal to give her up. She sent that messenger of hers back with fresh offers, and when again we refused, the woman takes up her quarters here, always spying upon us, always accosting Isobel on any excuse. Madame Richard may be a very good woman, but I have seen and spoken with her, and I do not for one moment believe that her extraordinary persistence is for Isobel's sake alone. Then Lady Delahaye has never ceased from worrying us. She has tried threats, persuasions and entreaties. She has tried by every means in her power to induce us to give up the child to her. And now we have the Archd.u.c.h.ess to deal with, and it seems to me that we are getting very near the heart of the matter. The Archd.u.c.h.ess is a daughter of one of the Royal Houses of Europe, and Major Delahaye was once _attache_ at her father's Court.

Then there is Grooten, the man who shot Delahaye. His interest in her is so strong that he risks his life and commits a crime to save her from a man whom he believes to be a source of danger to her. He sends her money every quarter, which, as you know, we have never touched--it stands in her name if ever she should require it. Grooten is a man into whose charge we could not possibly give her, and yet of all these people he is the only one whom I would trust--the only one whom I feel instinctively means well by her. Madame Richard wants her, Lady Delahaye wants her, and behind them both there is the Archd.u.c.h.ess, who also wants her. I have thought this matter over, and, so far as I am concerned, I have decided----"

"Not to give her up to any of them!" Arthur exclaimed sharply.

"To give her up to no one who is not prepared to go into court and establish a legal claim," I continued. "It is very simple, and I think very reasonable. When she leaves us, it shall be to take up an accredited and definite station in life. The time may come at any moment. We must always be prepared for it. But until it does, we will not even parley any longer with these people who come to us and hint at mysterious things."

Arthur wrung my hand. He was apparently much relieved, and he did not know what was coming.

"Arnold, you are a brick!" he exclaimed. "That's sound common-sense--every word you've uttered. Let them prove their claim to her."

"I agree with every word you have spoken," Allan said quietly, in response to a look from me. "The child is at least safe with us, and she is not wasting her time. She has talent, and she has application. I, for my part, shall be very sorry indeed when the time comes, as I suppose it will come some day, for her to go."

Then I mustered up my courage, and said that which I had known from the first would be difficult.

"There is one thing more," I said, "and I want to say it to you now. It may seem to you both unnecessary. Perhaps it is. Still, it is better that we should come to an understanding about it. A year has pa.s.sed since Isobel, the child, came to us. To-day she is a woman. If we still keep her with us there must be a bond, a covenant between us, and our honour must stand pledged to keep it. I think that you both know very well what I mean. I hope that you will both agree with me."