“May it please your Honoress,” said Frederick, “I cannot do more than endorse and support all that my colleague has so ably presented.  We appeal to the Court’s well-known sense of propriety, and throw ourselves upon her mercy.”

“We have been much impressed by the argument of the learned counsel,” said Dehra, in formal tones, “and, while not agreeing with all that it contained, yet, we are disposed to regard it, in the main, as sound.  The second condition is therefore sustained.—­But, I wish I could tell that woman what I think of her!” she exclaimed.

“God forbid!” the King ejaculated.

Dehra went over and kissed him.

“You’re a dear,” she said.

Then, she came across to me.

“And what is he?” asked Frederick, with a laugh.

She drew back quickly.

“According to his argument, he is only my cousin, the Grand Duke
Armand,” she answered.

“But, you said you did not agree with part of my argument,” I objected.

“Did I?—­Well, then, that must have been the part,” she said.

The King arose.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” he said.

XVII

PITCH AND TOSS

The following morning, I cabled a detective agency, in New York, giving them all the material facts in the case and requesting them to make an exhaustive investigation of the movements of Madeline Spencer during the period intervening between my confirmation as an Archduke and her sailing for Europe.  I told them I required evidence, promptly, to disprove the marriage, and gave them carte blanche in its gathering.  At the same time, I wired a prominent Army officer, at Governor’s Island, to vouch for my order.  I wanted no time lost while the Agency was investigating me.

Of course, the natural method would have been to direct the Valerian Ambassador, at Washington, to procure the information; but, I felt quite sure, that would simply be playing into Lotzen’s hand.  Some one in the Embassy would be very willing to oblige the Heir Presumptive by betraying me.  And it was only reasonable to suppose the Duke had already arranged for it.  It was one of those “trifles” which, as Courtney had said, would not be overlooked.

About noon, Bernheim came in with a card in his fingers and a queer smile about his firm-set lips.

I took the card.

“The devil!” I exclaimed.  Then I looked at Bernheim.  “What’s the move, now?”

“That is what I tried to find out, sir,” he answered.

“And failed?’

“Completely.  And, yet, I didn’t dare to dismiss her without your direct order.”

“As she well knew.”

“And as she had the effrontery to tell me,” he added.

I laughed.  “And did it very prettily, too, I’ll wager.”

“Quite too prettily.  ‘Come, Colonel Bernheim,’ she said, looking me straight in the eyes, and smiling sweetly enough to turn most any man’s head, ’you want to refuse to let me see the Marshal, but, you know perfectly well, you dare not.  He might be glad for a word with me in private; and then, again, he might not—­but you don’t know and you are afraid to risk it. Voila!’ And then she laughed.”