The Puppet Crown Part 53

Maurice bowed, his hand resting near one of the bayonets.

"You are also a soldier of fortune-like myself. You made a good stroke with the archbishop. You hoodwinked us all."

Maurice did not reply.

"Very well; we shall not dwell on it. You are discreet."

Maurice saw that Beauvais was speaking in good faith.

"You have something to say; come to it at once, for it is trying to watch you so closely."

"I will give you--" He hesitated and scratched his chin. "I will give you ten thousand crowns as the price of your silence in regard to the South American affair."

A sardonic laugh greeted this proposal. "I did not know that you were so cheap. But it is too late."

"Too late?"

"Doubtless, since by this time the authorities are in possession of the interesting facts."

"I beg to differ from you."

"Do as you please," said Maurice, triumphantly. "I sent an account of your former exploits both to my own government and to the one which you so treacherously betrayed. One or the other will not fail to reach."

"I am perfectly well aware of that," Beauvais smiled. He reached into a pocket, and for a moment Maurice expected to see a pistol come forth.

But he was needlessly alarmed. Beauvais extracted two envelopes from the pocket and sailed them through the intervening s.p.a.ce. They fell on the table. "Put not your trust in hotel clerks," was the sententious observation. "At least, till you have discovered that no one else employs them. I am well served. The clerk was told to intercept your outgoing post; and there is the evidence. Ten thousand crowns and a safe conduct."

Maurice picked up the letters mechanically. They were his; the stamps were not canceled, but the flaps were slit. He turned them this way and that, bewildered. He was convinced that he could in no way cope with this man of curious industries, this man who seemed to have a key for every lock, and whom nothing escaped. And the wise old Marshal had permitted him to leave the kingdom without let or hindrance. Perhaps the Marshal understood that Beauvais was a sort of powder train, and that the farther he was away from the mine the better for all concerned.

"You are a great rascal," Maurice said finally.

"We will waive that point. The matter at present is, how much will it take to buy your silence for the future?"

"And I am sorry I did not kill you when I had the chance," continued Maurice, as if following a train of thought.

"We never realize how great the opportunity is till it has pa.s.sed beyond our reach. Well, how much?"

"I am not in need of money."

"To be sure; I forgot. But the archbishop could not have given you a competence for life."

"I choked a few facts out of Kopf," said Maurice. "You will wear no crown--that is, earthly."

"And your heavenly one is near at hand," rejoined Beauvais.

Maurice absently fingered a bayonet.

"You refuse this conciliation on my part?" asked Beauvais.

"Positively."

"Well, then, if anything happens to you, you will have only yourself to blame. I will leave you to digest that suggestion. Your life hangs in the balance. I will give you till to-morrow morning to make up your mind."

"Go to the devil!"

"In that, I shall offer you the precedence." And Beauvais backed out; backed out because Maurice had wrenched loose one of the bayonets.

Maurice flung the bayonet across the room, went back to his chair, and tore his ill-fated letters into ribbons. When this was done he stared moodily at the impromptu candlesticks, and tried to conceive the manner in which Beauvais's threat would materialize.

When the troops returned to their watch, they found the prisoner in a rec.u.mbent position, staring at the cracks in the floor, oblivious to all else save his thoughts, which were by no means charitable or humane.

They resumed their game of cards. At length Maurice fell into a light slumber. The next time he opened his eyes it was because of a peculiar jar, which continued; a familiar, monotonous jar, such as the tread of feet on the earth creates. Tramp, tramp, tramp; it was a large body of men on the march. Soon this was followed by a lighter and noisier sound--cavalry. Finally, there came the rumbling of heavy metal--artillery. More than an hour pa.s.sed before these varying sounds grew indistinct.

Maurice was now fully awake. An army had pa.s.sed the Red Chateau.

CHAPTER XXIII. A GAME OF POKER AND THE STAKES

The next morning Beauvais came for his answer. It was not the answer he had expected.

"So be it," he replied. "Your government had better appoint your successor at once. Good morning."

"You will die suddenly some day," said Maurice.

Beauvais shrugged, and departed.

It was a dreary long day for the prisoner, who saw no one but his jailers. He wondered what time they would start for Brunnstadt. He had never seen Brunnstadt. He hoped the city would interest him. Was he to be disposed of on the road? No, that would scarcely be; there were too many witnesses. In the city prison, then; that was possible. The outlook was not rose-colored. He set to work to challenge each of his jailers, but this did not serve. At five o'clock the bluff old Colonel Mollendorf came in. He dismissed the troopers, who were glad enough to be relieved.

"I'll be responsible for the prisoner from now on," he said. As soon as he and Maurice were alone he propped his chin and contemplated the sullen face of the prisoner. "Well, my son, I am positive that you have been accused somewhat hastily, but that's the way women have, jumping at conclusions before they read the preface. But you must give Madame credit for being honest in the matter, as well as the others. Beauvais is positive that the move of the archbishop is due to your selling out to him. Come, tell me the story. If you wish, I'll promise not to repeat it. Madame is determined to lock you up in any event."

There was something so likable about the old warrior that Maurice relented.

"There was nothing in the gun-barrels," he said. "Some one had entered that room before me. I thought at first that Beauvais had them; but he is the last man in the world to dispose of them to the prelate. But has the archbishop got them? I wish I knew. That's all there is to the story."

"And her Royal Highness's dog?" slyly.

"What! Did you hear about that?" Maurice flushed.

"There is little going on in Bleiberg that we don't hear about. The princess is charming. Poor girl!"

"Madame's victory will have a strange odor. Can she not let the king die in peace?"

"My son, she dares not. If that throne were vacant of a king--Let us not talk politics."

"Madame has no love for me," said Maurice.

"Madame has no love for any one, if that will give you any satisfaction."