Maurice got up and stretched himself. He rubbed his wrists, then sat down and waited for the comedy to proceed.

"So you confess," said Madame, "that you sold the consols to the archbishop?"

"I, confess?" Maurice screwed up his lips and began to whistle softly:

"Voici le sabre de mon Pere."

"You deny, then?" Madame was fast losing patience, a grave mistake when one is dealing with a banterer.

Maurice changed the tune:

"J'aime les militaires, Leur uniforme coquet, Leur moustache et leur plumet--"

"Answer!" with a stamp of the foot.

"Je sais ce que je voudrais, Je voudrais etre cantiniere!"...

"Monsieur," said the pretty countess, after a furtive glance at Madame's stormy eyes, "do you deny?"

The whistle ceased. "Madame, to you I shall say that I neither deny nor affirm. The affair is altogether too ridiculous to treat seriously. I have nothing to say." The whistle picked up the thread again.

Doubt began to stir in the eyes of the Englishman. He looked at Madame with a kind of indecision, to find that she was glancing covertly at him. His gaze finally rested on Maurice, who had crossed his legs and was keeping time to the music with his foot. Indeed, these were not the violent protestations of innocence he had looked for. This demeanor was not at all in accord with his expectations. Now that he had possessed Madame's lips (though she might never possess the consols), Maurice did not appear so guilty.

"Carewe," he said, "you have deceived me from the start."

"Ah! c'est un fameux regiment, Le regiment de la Grande d.u.c.h.esse!"

"You knew that Madame was her Highness," went on the Englishman, "and yet you kept that a secret from me. Can you blame me if I doubt you in other respects?"

"Sonnez donc la trompette, Et battez les tambours!"

And the warbler nodded significantly at Madame, whose frown grew still darker.

"Eh! Monsieur," cried the Colonel, with a protesting hand, "you are out of tune!"

"I should like to know why you returned here," said Madame. "Either you have some plan, or your audacity has no bounds."

The whistle stopped again. "Madame, for once we agree. I, too, should like to know why I returned here."

"Carewe," said Fitzgerald, "if you will give me your word--"

"Do not waste your breath, Monsieur," interrupted Madame.

"Will you give me your word?" persisted Fitzgerald, refusing to see the warning in Madame's eyes.

"I will give you nothing, my lord; nothing. I have said that I will answer neither one way nor the other. The accusation is too absurd. Now, Madame, what is your pleasure in regard to my disposition?"

"You are to be locked up, Monsieur," tartly. "You are too inquisitive to remain at large."

"My confinement will be of short duration," confidently.

"It rests with my pleasure alone."

"Pardon me if I contradict your Highness. I returned here incidentally as a representative of the British amba.s.sador in Vienna; I volunteered this office at the request of my own minister."

A shade of consternation came into the faces of his audience.

"If nothing is heard of me within two days, an investigation will ensue.

It is very droll, but I am here to inquire into the whereabouts of one Lord Fitzgerald, who has disappeared. Telegrams to the four ends of the world have brought no news of his present residence. The archbishop inst.i.tuted the latter inquiries, because it was urgent and necessary he should know."

Fitzgerald became enveloped in gloom.

"And your credentials, Monsieur?" said the d.u.c.h.ess. "You have them, I presume?"

"I came as a private gentleman; a telegram to my minister in Vienna will bring indors.e.m.e.nt."

"Ah! Then you shall be locked up. I can not accord you recognition; without the essential representations, I see nothing in you but an impertinent meddler. To-morrow evening you shall be conveyed to Brunnstadt, where you will reside for some time, I can a.s.sure you.

Perhaps on your head will rest the blood of many gallant gentlemen; for within another twenty-four hours I shall declare war against Leopold.

This will be the consequence of your disloyalty to your word." And she moved toward the door, the others imitating her. Fitzgerald, more than any one else, desired to get away.

And one by one they vanished. Once the countess turned and threw Maurice a glance which mystified him; it was half curtained with tears.

Presently he was alone. His eye grasped every object. There was not a weapon in sight; only the bayonets on the table, and he could scarcely hope to escape by use of one of these. A carafe of water stood on the table. He went to it and half emptied it. His back was toward the door.

Suddenly it opened. He wheeled, expecting to see the troopers. His surprise was great. Beauvais was leaning against the door, a half humorous smile on his lips. The tableau lasted several minutes.

"Well," said Beauvais, "you do not seem very glad to see me."

Maurice remained silent, and continued to gaze at his enemy over the tops of the upturned bayonets.

"You are, as I said before, a very young man."

"I killed a puppet of yours last night," replied Maurice, with a peculiar grimness.

"Eh? So it was you? However, Kopf knew too much; he is dead, thanks to your service. After all, it was a stroke of war; the princess, whose little rose you have, was to have been a hostage."

"If she had refused to be a wife," Maurice replied.

Beauvais curled his mustache.

"I know a good deal more than Kopf."

"You do, certainly; but you are at a convenient nearness. What you know will be of no use to you. Let us sit down."

"I prefer to stand. The honor you do me is too delicate."

"O, you may have no fear."

"I have none--so long as my back isn't turned toward you."

Beauvais pa.s.sed over this. "You are a very good blade; you handle a sword well. That is a compliment, considering that I am held as the first blade in the kingdom. It was only to-day I learned that formerly you had been a cavalryman in America. You have the making of a soldier."