The Puppet Crown Part 41

"The knowledge was not of my own seeking. You will agree with me in that." He took a swallow of the cognac. "However, since I am in the affair--"

"Well?"

"I'll see it to its end."

"Perhaps. We shall not cross purposes. When men plot as I do, they stop at nothing, not even at that infinitesimal minutiae called the spark of life. It becomes a matter of self-preservation. I am in too deep water; I must keep on. I can not now turn back; the first sh.o.r.e is too far away."

"Even villainy has its inconveniences," Maurice observed.

"What do you call villainy?"

"An act in which a man accepts pay from one to ruin him for another.

That is villainy, without a single saving grace, for you are a native neither of the kingdom nor the duchy."

"That is plain language. You do not take into consideration the villain's motives. There may be certain ends necessary as his life's blood, which may be gained only by villainy, which, after all, is a hard name for political conspiracy."

"Oh, I do not suppose you are worse than the majority. But it appeals to me as rather a small, unmanly game when your victims are a man who is dying and a girl who knows nothing of the world nor its treachery."

An almost imperceptible smile pa.s.sed over Beauvais's countenance. "So her Highness has captured your sympathies?" with a shade of banter.

"I admit that; she would capture the sympathies of any man who has a good pair of eyes in his head. But you do not seem to be in favor just at present," banter for banter.

The Colonel studied the end of his cigar. "What is to be your stand in this affair?"

"Neutral as possible, for the simple reason that I have pa.s.sed my word to Madame; compulsorily, it is true; I shall abide by it. That is not to say that my sympathies are not wholly with the Osians. Madame is a brilliant woman, resourceful, initiative; she has as many sides as a cut diamond; moreover, her cause is just. But I do not like the way she has gone about the recovery of her throne. She has broken, or will break, a fine honest heart; she tried to break another, but, not being above the pantry maid, the subject of her attention failed to appreciate the consideration."

Beauvais laughed at this. "You are very good company. Let me advise you to remain neutral. I wish you no harm. But if you change your mind and stand in my path--"

"Well, and if I stood in your path?"

"Pouf! you would vanish. O, I should not stoop to murder; that is a vulgar word and practice. I should place a sword in your hand and give you the preference of a gentleman's death. I see nothing to prevent me from carrying out that this very night," with a nod toward the rapiers which hung from the opposite wall.

"You might be surprised at the result," said Maurice, stretching his legs. "But at present I have no desire to quarrel with you, or to put your skill to a test. Once Madame gives me back my word, why, I do not say." He dipped his hand toward the ash-pan. "Human nature is full of freaks. A man will commit all sorts of crimes, yet stand by his word.

Not that I have committed any crimes against the ten commandments."

And so they fenced.

"You picked up a rose to-night," said the Colonel.

"So I did." Maurice blew a puff of smoke into the chimneyplace and watched it sail upward and vanish. "Moreover, I propose to keep it. Have you any objections?"

"Only this: her Highness intended the rose for me."

"No, no, my friend," easily. "She would not have laughed had you picked it up."

"That is to say I lie?"

"It is," laconically.

There was no eluding a statement so bald as this. Beauvais sat upright.

"To call me a liar is a privilege which I extend to no man."

"I did not call you a liar," undisturbed. "You wrote it down yourself, and I simply agreed to it. A duel? Well, I shall not fight you. Dueling is obsolete, and it never demonstrated the right or wrong of a cause.

Since my part in this affair is one of neutrality, and since to gain that knowledge was the object of your invitation, I will take my leave of you."

He rose and looked at the porcelain clock. As he did so his gaze rested on a small photograph standing at the side of it. He scanned it eagerly.

It was a face of dark Castilian beauty. He turned and looked at Beauvais long and earnestly. There was an answering gaze, an immobility of countenance. Maurice experienced a slight shock. The haze over his memory was dispersed. The whole scene, in which this man loomed in the foreground, came back vividly.

"Your stare, Monsieur, is annoying."

"I shouldn't wonder," replied Maurice, leaning against the mantel.

"Do me the honor to explain it."

Maurice, never dreaming of the trap, fell head foremost into it. "I have traveled a good deal," he began. "I have been--even to South America."

"Ah!" This e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n expressed nothing. In fact, Beavais was smiling.

There was a sinister something behind that smile, but Maurice was un.o.bservant.

He went on. "Yes, to South America. I was there in a diplomatic capacity, during one of the many revolutions. This country was the paradise of adventurers, the riff-raff of continental social outcasts.

I distinctly remember the leader of this revolution. Up to the very last day, Captain Urquijo was the confidential friend of the president whom he was about to ruin. Through the president's beautiful daughter Urquijo picked up his threads and laid his powder train. The woman loved him as women sometimes love rascals. The president was to be a.s.sa.s.sinated and his rival installed. Captain Urquijo was to be made General of the armies.

"One fine day the troops lined both sides of the plaza, the square also about which lay the government buildings. It was the event of some celebration; I believe the throwing off of the yoke of Spain. The city flocked into the plaza. Strangely enough, those who were disaffected--the soldiers under Urquijo--faced the loyal troops. By a preconceived plan, the artillery was under the command of Urquijo.

Suddenly this Captain's murderous and traitorous guns swept the plaza, mangling women and children. There was a flaw, however, in the stroke.

Urquijo fled, a reward posted for his head--mind you, his head; they did not want him alive.

"The daughter expiates her foolish love in a convent. Her disgraces proved too much for her father, who blew out his brains. The successor secured extradition papers in all the leading capitals of the world. The story was the sensation of the day; the newspapers made much of it. All governments offered to a.s.sist the republic in hounding down this rascal.

To whatever country he belonged, that country promised to disown him."

Maurice took the photograph and cast it into Beauvais's lap. "Do you recognize that face? Is it not a mute accusation to your warped conscience?" The voice, changing from the monotone of narrative, grew strong and contemptuous. "I know you. I recognized you the moment I laid eyes on you, only I could not place you. Perhaps it was because it did not seem possible that you would dare show your face to civilized people. That photograph has done its work. By the Lord, but you're a fine rascal! Not a bit changed. Have you forgotten your Spanish? As G.o.d hears me, I shall hold you up."

"You are a very young man," said Beauvais, rising. He was still smiling.

"Do you know why I asked you here? For this very reason. Madame divined you well. She said that you had a dash of what romanticists call valor, but that you never saw an inch before your nose. I knew that you would be at the archbishop's; I knew that you would follow me to this room.

Indeed, you might have suspected as much by the unusual arrangement of the fixtures of the room. I placed that photograph there, trusting to your rather acute eyesight.

"My memory seems to be better than yours. I knew you the first time I saw you in Bleiborg. I was waiting only to see how much you had remembered. I am not Colonel Beauvais; I am not Urquijo; I am the last of a n.o.ble Austrian house, in exile, but on the eve of recall. Your knowledge would, of course, be disastrous to my ambitions. That is why I wanted to find out how much you know. You know too much, too much by half; and since you have walked into the lion's den, you shall never leave it alive." With this he sprang to the wall and tore down the rapiers, one of which he flung at Maurice's feet.

Maurice felt the hand of paralysis on his nerves. He looked at the rapier, then at Beauvais, dazed and incapable of movement. It had been so sudden.

"And when they find you in some alley in the lower town they will put it down to thieves. You are young and thoughtless," Beauvais went on banteringly. "A little discretion and you might have gone with a whole skin. We never forget a woman's face, and I knew that you would not forget hers. Don't trouble yourself about leaping through the windows; the fall will kill you less effectually than I shall."

Maurice pulled himself together. The prospect of death brought back lucidity of mind. He at once saw the hopelessness of his position. He cursed his lack of forethought. He became pale and furious, but his head cleared. His life hung in the balance. He now translated Beauvais's smile.

"So you wish to add another to the list?" he said.

"To shield one crime, a man must commit many others. O, this will not be murder. It will be a duel, in which you will have no chance. Pick up the sword, if only for form's sake." Beauvais caught the wrist thong of the rapier between his teeth and rapidly divested himself of his jacket and saber straps. With his back toward the door, he rolled up his sleeve and discovered a formidable forearm. He tried the blade and thrust several times into the air.

"What promise have I," said Maurice, "that you will not run me through when I stoop for the sword?" This question did not serve.