Chapter VII: Part 7

The older man did not answer at once, and Lawrence, feeling as if he had no right to listen, moved slowly backward till he touched the table. Then he turned suddenly and looked down quizzically into Shirley's eyes.

"You--understand?" he whispered gently.

She nodded swiftly. "What must you think of me?" she murmured a little unsteadily. "I didn't believe it at first, but they swore it--was true; and, somehow, things fitted in, and--and---- Do you think you'll ever forgive me?"

One hand stole across the table, and the strong brown fingers closed over the tiny gloved ones.

"Did you really think I wouldn't?" he questioned softly, gazing into her wonderful eyes with an expression in his own which swiftly brought her long lashes sweeping down on crimsoning cheek.

"Well?" he queried as she made no answer.

"I--I hoped," she faltered.

It was the voice of the grand duke, weary, sorrowful, but full of an unmistakable resignation, which broke the silence.

"I cannot blame you, Oscar," he was saying quietly. "I have clung to the old traditions because there seemed no other way--perhaps I lacked the courage to do what you have done--and my life turned to dust and ashes. I love you too well ever to wish to see that happen to you. Have you any--plans?"

"Heaps of them, uncle," the prince answered jauntily. "I'm going to become an American citizen. I think I'll buy a big place in the South and turn farmer. I've money enough."

The two at the table saw the old man wince slightly, but in an instant he had recovered his composure.

"What a thoroughbred he is!" Barry whispered admiringly. He had apparently forgotten to release Shirley's hand, but she seemed too absorbed to notice the lapse.

"There will be no difficulty on that score," the duke remarked. "Your estates belong to you personally, and their sale should net a million or more."

Suddenly he gave a start and arose swiftly to his feet.

"I beg your pardon, Oscar," he ejaculated, in chagrin. "My preoccupation has made me forget entirely my desire to meet your--wife. This lady is----"

He glanced at Shirley with a courtly inclination, just in time to see her snatch her hand from Barry's grasp and spring to her feet with blazing cheeks. The prince saw it, too, and his eyes twinkled.

"I have not the honor," he said quietly. "My wife is just recovering from an illness which has been the cause of most of these complications. Mr. Lawrence, will you be so good as to present us?"

With swiftly recovered composure, Shirley acknowledged the introduction with a naive dignity; and, when they had all seated themselves again, the prince begged for a recital of Barry's adventures.

"Extraordinary and most diverting," he said when the tale had been told. "Perhaps a little more amusing in retrospect. My dear Mr. Lawrence, I feel more than ever indebted to you for what you have done. When I started the ball rolling last Monday morning I had no conception of the strenuous experiences I was bringing upon you. You see, I had left Ostrau secretly with only Watkins, my American secretary, who has been with me for years, but I was almost certain of being followed. I hoped, however, that we should succeed in losing ourselves somewhere in the South or West before our trail was picked up. I should explain, perhaps, that my wife and I were married in Paris, where she was spending the winter. She was Miss Isabel Patterson, of Baltimore. We sailed under assumed names; or, rather, under a name I used in England during our exile----"

"I beg your pardon," Lawrence put in, "but was it Nordstrom?"

"Why, yes. How did you know?"

"I met a friend of yours who had known you at Cambridge. He was an Englishman named Brandon."

"John Brandon!" exclaimed the prince. "Of course! We were great friends during my university days, but I haven't seen him in years. You see, Mr. Lawrence, our family was exiled from Ostrau until the timely revolution three years ago which restored my father to power. I was brought up in England, and, as we were very poor, indeed, I went through Rugby and Cambridge under the name of Nordstrom, which is one of our family names. It would have been absurd for a poverty-stricken individual to be strutting about as a prince. What times we had!" he sighed. "I think they were the happiest days of my life--until now. But I am digressing. Unfortunately for our plans, my wife was taken ill just as we were on the point of leaving New York. I knew that the pursuit would be keen, and, unless attention was diverted from us to another quarter, we would be hunted out, no matter how carefully we hid ourselves in New York. Considering my wife's health, I was most anxious to avoid anything of that sort until she was recovered.

"I was at my wits' end," he continued, "and could think of nothing until one day, while waiting with Watkins in the Pennsylvania Station for a physician from Philadelphia, whom I knew well, and who had promised to come on, I suddenly caught sight of you. I was simply stumped, of course; then, like a flash, I realized that here was the way out, which I had hitherto been searching for in vain. It took but a moment for me to outline a plan to Watkins, arrange my bill case, and place the ring in it. You see, that had been given me by the Rajah of Sind when I toured India two years ago, and I had scarcely had it off my finger since then. If an added mark of identification were needed, that would amply suffice.

"The plan worked to a charm. When Hager, my father's chief of police, arrived, he was completely taken in. He kept on your trail day and night, and my purpose was accomplished. We had taken rooms in what I considered the most out-of-the-way locality in New York. When I went out it was always after dark and wearing a semidisguise. In spite of every care, however, fate seemed to be against me, and caused Hager to choose this very house for the culmination of his little drama. My rooms are just back of this. Through the door I heard all that passed; and, when I found that my uncle was expected, I realized that the better way would be to end everything at once and be free from further persecution. I can only close, Mr. Lawrence, by offering my most sincere apologies for the annoyance to which you have been subjected."

"There is not the slightest need of that, your highness," Barry returned hastily. "I am more grateful to you than I can say, for without your aid I should probably have missed--the greatest happiness of my life."

"You are good to say that," the prince said simply. "I am very happy."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Lawrence asked as they arose.

The crown prince looked slightly puzzled. "I'm afraid I do not understand."

"This," explained Lawrence, drawing the emerald ring from his finger and holding it out. "It belongs to you, you know."

"Not at all. That is yours. It is part of the bargain, and I am sure you have earned it."

"But it's worth a king's ransom," Barry protested. "I really can't take it. You have given me more than enough without that. Besides, it is much too rare a jewel for me to be wearing."

The prince darted a mischievous glance at Shirley Rives.

"Perhaps there is some one else who might be willing to relieve you of its care," he murmured, his fine eyes twinkling.

There was no mistaking his meaning, and the girl dropped her lids, while a rush of color crimsoned her lovely face. The next instant, however, she lifted them again and looked bravely into Barry's questioning eyes.

"Perhaps--some day," she murmured.

THE END.

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