“And you have the certificate with you?” he asked.

“It is somewhere among my luggage.  If you care to see it I shall try to find it to-morrow.”

“Thank you, Madame,” Courtney answered.

Then Lotzen took a hand.

“Will Madame permit me, also, to ask her a question?” he said.

“Certainly, Your Highness,” she answered, and would have curtsied had he not waved her up.

“Was the marriage secret?” he asked.

The answer was instant:  “It was private but not secret.”

“Then, why is it that Major Dalberg’s record in the War office in Washington makes no mention of this marriage?  I happen to know it does not.”

“I do not know,” she answered, rather tartly.  “It was not, I assume, my duty to report it.”

“And, further, Madame,” Lotzen continued.  “If Major Dalberg were lucky enough to marry you, why, in Heaven’s name, should he deny you within a few short months?”

“I might guess one of the reasons,” she answered languidly—­and let her eyes rest upon the Princess.

And Dehra laughed in her face.

Lotzen shrugged his shoulders and was silent.

“Are there any more questions, Messieurs?” she asked.

No one answered.

“Then, with your permission, I will obey my husband’s orders and withdraw,” she said mockingly.  “Major Moore, your arm.”

When she was gone, Lotzen turned to me and held out his hand.

“I’m with you, Armand,” he said heartily.  “She’s no wife of yours, certificate to the contrary notwithstanding.”

I thanked him gratefully—­the more so since it was so totally unexpected.  Then, without giving the others an opportunity to express their opinion (they would, of course, have been constrained to agree with the Heir Presumptive; all except the Princess, and, of her, I had no doubt) and addressing, particularly, the Radnors, I said: 

“The supper is spoiled beyond repair, I fear, but I shall ask you to go on with it, for I wish to acquaint you with some facts in the life of the woman who claims me as her husband.”

“We are quite ready to accept Your Highness’s simple denial,” said Lord Radnor.

“I prefer you hear my story first,” I answered.

Then I told them, in detail, what I had only outlined to the Princess, concerning Madeline Spencer.  When I had finished, Lord Radnor shook his grey head gravely.

“His Highness of Lotzen is quite right,” he said.  “You never married that woman.  Either she is a blackmailer or she is doing this in pure revenge.  What’s your notion, Courtney?”

“The marriage story is, of course, a pure lie,” said Courtney, “but, there, I quit.  I never try to guess a woman’s purpose—­and a pretty woman’s least of all.”

“God bless me, man!” Radnor exclaimed; “for a bachelor you are wondrous wise.”

“Maybe that’s why he is a bachelor,” said Lady Helen.