“Except the electric lights,” Moore threw in, dryly; and we bowed ourselves away.

“I suppose we may now assume that somebody knows my disguise,” I observed.  “Did you see my friend with the dagger?”

“Yes—­as much of him as there was to see—­he wore a long black cloak and was rather above medium size.  If Your Highness had not stopped me I might have caught him.”

“That’s just why I stopped you,” said I.  “I didn’t want to embarrass the De Vierles.  Think what it would mean to them to have it known that one of their guests had attempted to stab to death an Archduke.”

“Hum—­I don’t see why that is more important than protecting your life.”

“My dear Colonel,” said I, “if it were a question between my life and Lady Vierle’s temporary embarrassment, I would look after my life.  But my life is still safe, and in no more danger with that rogue at large than with him caught.”

“It would be one less scoundrel for Lotzen to work with,” Moore objected.

“I fancy he has got so many scoundrels on his pay roll that one, more or less, won’t matter,” I answered.  “But, I’ve no objection to a quiet inquiry as to this assault—­it may come very handy, some time—­so, do you look up the Secret Service Officer, in charge here to-night, and give him such facts as you deem proper, and let a report be made to me in the morning.”

“First, let me escort you to the house,” he insisted.

I put my hand on his arm.  “Lotzen may have his hired bravoes,” I said, “but I’m blessed with two good friends in you and Bernheim.”

The warm-hearted Irishman took my hand and pressed it.

“We both are Your Highness’s servants until death,” he said.

“I’m in no further danger to-night, I fancy,” said I.  “And here come Lady Helen and the American Ambassador.  I’ll remain with them.  When you have done your errand rejoin me.”

XXII

BLACK KNAVE AND WHITE

There were three women and a man in the approaching party, and it chanced I knew them all.  Courtney had a red rose fastened conspicuously on his breast, and Lady Helen wore a great bunch of them in her hair—­another was gowned like her and, so, must be the Marquise de Vierle herself—­the fourth was Mademoiselle d’Essolde.

“If you wish,” said I, barring the path and sweeping the ground with my feather, “I’ll hunt another rose.  I’ve been searching for you so long that the one I began with has gone to pieces.”

“Of course, Your Highness would never think of looking in the Ball Room,” said Lady Helen.

Mademoiselle d’Essolde started and, then, drew a bit back.

“Never, indeed, until I had searched the Garden,” I retorted.  Then I bowed to Mademoiselle d’Essolde as the Marquise presented her.  I could see she was very much embarrassed, so I tried to reassure her by being extremely cordial.