The Princess Dehra Part 23

"I have to thank you for a delightful evening, messieurs," he said, with his stiff, military bow; "and since I must leave before the end of the game, I make a John-pot of these for you."

The Archduke took him by the arm.

"You may not do that, Colonel," he laughed; "they cannot let you. You must cash in, and give them a chance some other time."

"But it is my pleasure, sir, for them to have back what I won."

"And it will be their pleasure to take it back," said Armand kindly, "but not in that way-they must win it back from you."

Bernheim drew himself up. "I understand, sir," he said.-"Messieurs, I salute you."

When they came out on the Avenue, a fine rain was blowing in clouds, but the Archduke declined the servant's offer to ring the stables for a carriage. The street was deserted; not a pedestrian, nor even a cab, was in sight, either way. Both men wrapped their capes around them, and strode off toward the Epsau.

"A dirty night, sir," the Colonel observed-"it might have been well to take the carriage."

"I like it," said Armand; "to walk in the rain or to ride in the snow."

"The snow, yes-but we don't have much of it in Dornlitz-one must go to the mountains in the North-to Lotzenia-for it."

"My dear cousin's country!"

"His t.i.tular estates-but not his country," said Bernheim. "He has the old castle on the Dreer and a huge domain-that King Frederick's father gave to Lotzen's father in a foolish moment of generosity-but he hasn't the heart of a single inhabitant; indeed, until his banishment there, I think he had never even seen the place. But with the old castle of Dalberg, across the valley-the cradle of your race, sir-it's very different. Who rules there is the idol of the Lotzenians; he is their hereditary lord; and they can never forget that he belonged to them before he took the Crown, and that they helped him in the taking."

"And now that there is no king, whom will they serve until the new lord comes?"

Bernheim raised his cap.

"Her Royal Highness the Regent-until they serve you."

No man could be quite insensible to all that this implied of kingly power, and the traditional homage of inherited devotion, the hot love for him who was born their chief-given them of G.o.d, and their own before all others. The Archduke's fingers closed a bit tighter on his stick, his blood pulsed faster, and the stubborn spirit of old Hugo awoke to new life; and in that moment, in the dead of night, with the rain whipping around them, as it wrapped the city in a cloud of glowing mist, he turned his face forever from his old life, its memories and methods, and pa.s.sed finally into the New, its high destiny, its privileges, its responsibilities, its dangers and its cares. He would make this fight in the Duke's own fashion, and end it in the Duke's own way; if he fell in the ending, he would see to it that the Duke fell first; not that he cared for his company in the out-going-though, doubtless, it would matter little then-but because it were not well to leave him behind to plague the kingdom with his viciousness.

They now had left the more modern portion of the Avenue and were in the older section, where the houses were smaller and stood only a little way from the sidewalk; though occasionally a more pretentious one was set far back, with trees and shrubbery around it, and a wall before, hiding it almost entirely from the street.

In front of one of these residences, the Archduke suddenly stopped and caught Bernheim's arm.

"Listen!" he said, "I heard a cry."

Bernheim, too, had heard it, but he was not minded to let his master know.

"It was the wind, doubtless, sir," he said.

"No, it wasn't the wind-it was a voice, and a woman's voice, I thought."

A blast of rain and mist swept by them and through the trees, stirring the leaves into a rustling as of the sighs of disembodied spirits, while the swaying street lights flung the shadows. .h.i.ther and thither like pursuing cerecloths struggling to re-shroud them in their forsaken garb.

Bernheim looked around to fix the location.

"It's the De Saure house," he said, "and has been unoccupied for months-Your Highness must have been mistaken."

The Archduke moved on. "Doubtless, the wind plays queer tricks with sound on such a night; yet my ears rarely deceive me."

They were pa.s.sing the wide entrance gates, and he went nearer and peered within-and as though in answer, from out the darkness came the shriek of one in awful terror.

"Don't strike me again! For G.o.d's sake don't strike me!"

The Archduke seized the gate.

"Come on, Bernheim," he exclaimed; "it is a woman."

The Aide caught his arm.

"Don't, sir," he said; "don't-it is nothing for you to mix in-it is for the police."

Armand made no answer; he was trying to find the latch.

"I pray Your Highness to refrain," Bernheim begged; "an Archduke-"

"Help! For G.o.d's sake help!" came the cry.

The latch yielded, and Armand flung back the gate.

"Come on," he ordered, "I'm a man, and yonder a woman calls."

He sprang down the path toward the house, which he could see now in black forbiddingness among the trees far back from the street.

Again Bernheim ventured to protest.

"It may be Lotzen's trap, sir," he warned.

For the shadow of an instant the Archduke hesitated; and at that moment the voice rang out again.

"Don't strike me! Don't str-" and a gurgling choke ended it.

"To the devil with Lotzen!" he exclaimed, and dashed on.

And Bernheim, with a silent curse, went beside him, loosening his sword as he ran, and feeling for the small revolver he had slipped inside his tunic, before they left the Epsau. To him, now, everything of mystery or danger spelled Lotzen-but even if it were not he, there was trouble enough ahead, and scandal enough, too, likely; scandal in which the Governor of Dornlitz, an Archduke, may be the King, had no place, and which could serve only to injure him before the people and in the esteem of the n.o.bles. Better that half the women in Dornlitz should be beaten and choked than that his master should be smirched by the tongue of calumny. He had no patience with this Quixotism that succored foolish females at foolish hours, in a place where neither the female nor they had any right to enter-and where, for her, at least, to enter was a crime. If he were able, he would have picked the Archduke up bodily, and borne him back to the palace, and have left the infernal woman to shift for herself, and to save herself or not, as her luck might rule.

Then they brought up suddenly in front of the house; and as they paused to find the steps, a light flashed, for an instant, from the upper windows, and disappeared-as if an electric switch had been turned on, and off again. But its life had been long enough to show the broad entrance porch, and the big doors beyond it-and that they were open wide.

At the sight, Bernheim swore a good round oath and seized the Archduke's arm.

"It's a trap, my lord, it's a trap!" he exclaimed.

And again Armand hesitated; and again the cry came, though m.u.f.fled now and indistinct.

"We will have to chance it," he said, "I can't desert a woman who calls for help."

"Very well, sir," said Bernheim, knowing that further opposition was useless, "but if it is a trap, she'll be the first I kill."