Chapter XXIII: At the Inn of the Twisted Pines

I lunched with the King and the Princess Dehra as arranged. Frederick left before the coffee, and Dehra ordered it served in her library. When the footman had brought it she dismissed him.

"Now," said she, "come and tell me all about yourself."

I went over and sat on the arm of her chair. She lit a cigarette and put it between my lips--then, lit one for herself.

"Do you remember the first time you did that?" I asked.

"Yes," said she, "it was the night you flirted so outrageously with me in front of Lotzen."

"I don't care what you call it, since we are not flirting now," said I.

She took my hand between hers and smiled up at me.

"And, maybe, it was not all flirting, then," she said.

There are certain occasions which justify certain actions. I thought this was one.

Then I said: "Tell me about Lotzen's visit with you in the North."

"He was there a week."

"More's the pity," said I.

"For him--yes."

"For him?" I echoed.

She nodded. "I feel very sorry for Ferdinand." Then she blushed. "I think he does love me, Armand."

"I can't blame him for that," said I. "He's a queer sort if he doesn't."

"Foolish!" she laughed, giving me a little tap with her fan. "And you see, dear, he might have had a chance if you had not come."

I bent down until her hair brushed my face.

"And he has none now, sweetheart?" I said softly.

"You know that he has not."

"And does he know it?"

"Yes--he knows it--now. I told him the day he left."

I was beginning to understand Lotzen's sudden change of demeanor toward me.

"What did you tell him, little woman?" I asked.

She looked up with a bright smile.

"See how I've spoiled you," she said.

"Then, spoil me just a little more," I urged.

"Well--I told him it was you," she whispered.

The understanding was growing rapidly.

"And what did he say to that?"

"I know, Armand, you don't like him; and, there, you may do him an injustice. He said only the kindest things about you--that you were able, courteous, brave--a true Dalberg; and that, if it could not be he, he was glad it was you."

I smiled. "That was clever of him," I commented.

"And he, too, does not believe the Spencer woman's story."

"His cleverness grows," I laughed. "It only remains for him to renounce his right to the Crown."

"He said it was for the King to choose which was the worthier, and that, if it fell to you, he would serve you faithfully and well."

I put my hand on her head and softly stroked her hair.

"And you believed him, dear?" I asked.

She looked up quickly.

"Yes--I believed him. I wanted to believe him--Did he deceive me?"

"Listen," said I. "He reached Dornlitz two days ago. Yesterday afternoon he insulted me repeatedly in my office at Headquarters. Last night I attended the Vierle Masque. While in the Garden I was struck in the back with a dagger."

"Stabbed!" she exclaimed, and clutched my arm.

"No, dear--not even scratched, thanks to Bernheim's steel vest I was wearing. Half an hour later, our cousin of Lotzen, with Mrs. Spencer on his arm, met me, alone, in a retired part of the Garden, forced a duel, and did his level best to run me through, by a trick of fence he thought he, alone knew."

"And, again, the vest saved you?"

"No--I was fortunate enough to disarm him."

"Glorious, dear, glorious!" she exclaimed. And tears filled her eyes.

And, as it was I that had caused them, it was but fair that I should take them away.

Then she made me go over the whole story in detail.

"Of course you will tell the King," said she.

"Maybe," said I. "I've not decided yet."

She got up. "There is just time for me to get into riding dress," she said. "But, first; this is Thursday--if you do not tell His Majesty of Lotzen's perfidy by Saturday, I shall do it, myself."

And I knew she would--so I made no protest.

"Put on the green habit and the plumed hat, dear," I said, as I held back the door.

I have always liked green--the dark rich green of the forest's depth--and, if there were anything more lovely than the Princess Dehra, when she came back to me, it is quite beyond my Imagination to conceive it. He is a poor lover, indeed, who does not think his sweetheart fair; yet, he would have been a poor sort of man, who would not have been at one with me, that afternoon.

And I told her so--but she called me "Foolish!" once again, and ran from me to the private exit of her suite, where our four companions were awaiting us. But I had my reward; for she waved the groom aside and let me swing her into saddle and fix her skirt.

How easy it is for a clever woman to manage a man--if she care to try.

It was a beautiful afternoon--the road was soft and the track smooth. Much of it led through woodland and along a brawling stream. The horses were of the sort that delight the soul--I doubt if there were six better saddlers in the whole Kingdom of Valeria. I know there were no prettier women, and, I think, no happier men.

We passed many people--mainly country-men--and they all knew the Princess and loved her--bless her!--if their greetings went for aught. Me, they eyed with frank curiosity; and, more than once, I caught the drift of their comments.

"A pretty pair," said one, as Dehra and I drew near, our horses on a walk.

"It's a pity he has a wife," the other answered. And Dehra frowned.

"They match up well," said a fellow, as we paused a moment at a spring beside a small road house.

I glanced at Dehra; and got a smile in return.

"That they do. He does not look like a foreigner," was the answer.

"He is Dalberg on the outside, anyway," said a third.

"Then, he is Dalberg inside, too--it starts there, with them," said the first.

And so it went, until we reached the Inn of the Twisted Pines.

It was an old log and plaster building; of many gables and small windows; standing back a trifle from the road, with a high-walled yard on all four sides. I had taken the precaution, that morning, to dispatch an orderly to apprise the landlord of our coming; and every human being about the place was drawn up within the enclosure to greet us. Old Boniface met us at the gateway and held my stirrup as I dismounted.

"My poor house has had no such honor," he said, "since the time the Great Henry stopped for breakfast on his return from the Titian War."

"Well, my good man," said I, "you doubtless don't recollect the Great Henry's visit, but, if your supper is what we hope for, I promise you we will honor it as highly as he did that breakfast."

"Your Highness shall be served this instant."

"Give us half an hour and a place to get rid of this dust," said I.

I fancy the Inn had been changed but little since old Henry's day; and the big room, where our table was spread, certainly not at all. The oak floor was bare and worn into ruts and ridges--the great beam rafters overhead were chocolate color from smoke and age--the huge fireplace and the wall above it were black as a half-burnt back log. But the food! My mouth waters now at the thought of it. No crazy French concoctions of frothy indigestibleness; but good, sweet cooking--the supper one gets among the old families of Maryland or Virginia. It took me back more than a score of years to my young days on the dear old Eastern Shore.

And, in the midst of it, came the jolly Boniface, bearing, as carefully as a mother does her first-born, three long bottles, cobwebbed and dirty. Eighty years had they been lying in the wine-bin of the Inn, guarding their treasure of Imperial Tokay. Now, their ward was ended--and the supper was complete; though, in truth, it had been complete before.

And, when we had eaten the supper and had drunk most of the Tokay, we freshened up the glasses with what remained. Then, arising, I gave the toast which all could drink:

"To the one we love the best!"

But, even as we drained it, there came through the open window the clatter of horse's hoofs and, as the glasses smashed to bits among the chimney stones, the door swung open and my senior Aide entered, hot and dusty.

He caught my eye, halted sharply, and his hand went up in salute.

"Welcome, Colonel Bernheim," I said.

Again he saluted; then drew out an envelope and handed it to me.

"Important papers for Your Highness," he said. "They were received at Headquarters after your departure and, as they required action to-night, I thought it best to follow you."

With a word of apology, I walked over to the nearest window and slowly read the letters. There were two and they were very brief. Then I read them again--and yet again.

Those at the table had, of course, resumed their talk, but Bernheim still stood at attention. I motioned him to me.

"These are copies," I said.

"I made them, sir, from the originals--while they were en route," he added with a dry smile.

"And the originals?"

"Each was delivered promptly."

"You have no doubt of their genuineness?" I asked.

"Absolutely none--though, of course, I know only the handwriting of the answer."

"Well done," said I; "well done!" Then I read the two papers again.

"Do you think he means it?" I asked, tapping the smaller paper.

"After last night, undoubtedly. And you must be there, sir--you and a witness," said Bernheim.

I thought a bit--then I took out my watch. It was just six o'clock.

"There is ample time," said I; "and it's worth the try. Can it be arranged, do you think?"

Bernheim's face brightened. "It can, sir. If it's the room I think it is, there will be no difficulty; and we can depend on the manager--he has been well trained by the Secret Police. You will come?"

"Yes, I'll come; but they come, too," and I nodded toward the table.

"Better bring only Courtney, sir," he urged.

"No," said I; "several witnesses will be needed. And, besides, I want them out of satisfaction to myself."

"It may wreck the whole business," he persisted.

"I'll risk it," said I.

Bernheim was wise. He always seemed to know when to quit.

"Very good, sir," he said. "How soon do we start?"

I put my hand on his shoulder.

"You are a perfect treasure, Bernheim," I said. "Come, we will start at once. Is your horse good for a fast ride back?"

"Entirely, sir."

"Then you can give me the story on the way," I said. "Meanwhile, get some refreshment."

I went back to the table--and it was amusing how suddenly the conversation ceased and everyone looked at me. I smiled reassuringly at Dehra, for there was concern in her eyes.

"Four of you," said I--"you, Princess; and you, Lady Helen; and you, Courtney; and you, Moore, were present at--and you, Mademoiselle d'Essoldé, have heard of--a certain supper party on the Hanging Garden, some weeks back, whereat a certain woman proclaimed herself my wife. That was the first act in a play which has been progressing ever since. The plot has thickened lately--as witness the duel at the Masque, last night. And now, unless I greatly err, the last act is set for this evening. If you care to see it I shall be glad for your company."--Then I laughed. "A long speech," said I; "but it sounded well."

"And promises best of all," said Courtney.

Then I ordered the horses; and, while we waited, I gave the letters to Courtney.

"Read them," I said. "The originals passed through Bernheim's hands this afternoon--'while en route,' as he puts it."

He read them carefully.

"You contemplate giving them an audience?" he asked.

"Exactly that," said I.

"Is it feasible?"

"Bernheim says it is."

He looked at me thoughtfully, a moment. "It would be a great stroke to have the King there," he said.

"I'll make a try for him," I answered; "but the time is very short."

It was ten miles to Dornlitz, and we did it in an hour. On the way, I explained the whole situation to the Princess and read her the letters. She was amazed--and her indignation was intense. Nor did she hesitate to express it freely before Bernheim. And I saw his stern face break into a glad smile. It told him much.

At the Palace we drew rein.

"Be at the Hotel Metzen at eight forty-five," said I. "Come by the Court entrance--you will be expected."

Then they rode away, and I hastened to the King.

As good luck would have it, Frederick was in his cabinet and received me instantly. He read the letters and looked at me inquiringly.

"It means a plain talk between them," I explained; "and I propose to hear it. I am, sure it would interest Your Majesty--much happened yesterday." And I told him of the Vierle Masque.

Frederick frowned a bit--thought longer--then smiled.

"I don't much fancy eaves-dropping; but, sometimes, the end justifies the means," he said. "I'll join you."

"There will be other witnesses, Sire," I said--and named them.

"I don't like it," he said.

"I can stop them," I suggested.

He considered. "No," said he, "I understand why you want them. I'll come--they will be discreet. And the Princess would wish it so. I'll bring her, myself."

Then I rode to the Metzen. Bernheim had preceded me and, with the manager of the Hotel, awaited me at a side door. The corridor was dimly lighted but I drew my cape well over my face and, is a moment, we were in a small reception room.

"Monsieur Gerst," said I to the manager, "I need your assistance."

Gerst bowed very low.

"Your Royal Highness has but to command," he said.

I was quite sure of that, however. An Archduke of Valeria would have been quite enough, but the Governor of Dornlitz was beyond refusal. I could have closed his Hotel by a word, and there would have been no appeal.

"Thank you, monsieur," I said. "You have as a guest, a certain Madame Armand Dalberg."

"A guest by Your Highness's express permission, you will remember," he said.

"Very true," said I. "Now, this Madame Dalberg expects a visitor to-night at nine o'clock."

He gave me a quick glance.

"You know him?" I asked.

"No, Your Highness. I only know madame gave orders to admit no one to-night except a gentleman who would come at nine."

I nodded. "It's the same," said I. "And what I want, is to hear all that occurs between Madame Dalberg and this visitor."

Gerst smiled. "That will be easily arranged, Your Highness--the place is already provided."

"The concealed Gallery?" asked Bernheim, quickly?

"Yes, Colonel." Then, to me, he explained: "Madame's reception room was once a part of a small, state dining-room. Back of the end wall runs a gallery where guests sat to listen to the speeches. It is there, now--and the tapestries, with which the walls are hung, completely hide it."

"It can be reached from the floor above?" I asked.

"Yes, Your Highness; a narrow stairway admits to it."

"Can we enter without being overheard by those in the room below?"

"Very readily, sir; the gallery was so designed that its noises would not disturb those in the dining-room."

"We are in good luck, Bernheim," I said.

"We shall need all of it, sir, with eight spectators."

And he was right. It was foolish to risk success for only a sentimental reason. I knew, perfectly well, the proper course was for no one but the King and myself to be in the gallery; yet, there entered my Dalberg stubbornness. I purposed that some of those, who had seen me accused that night on the Hanging Garden, should see me exculpated to-night.

It may be, that some will question the propriety of my action, and the good taste of those who were my guests. As to the latter, it must be borne in mind that my invitation was in the nature of a command, which it would have been vastly discourteous to decline. And, besides, they were my friends. As for myself, I have no excuses to offer--and, methinks, I need none. The situation had long passed the refinement of ethics. It was war; and war not of my declaring. Neither was I responsible for the style of the campaign. Madeline Spencer deserved no consideration from me--and no more did her visitor.