CHAPTER VIII

THE PRINCESS CONSULTS JONESY

The coldness of the moonlight killed the pallor of Karyl’s face, but added a note of stark accentuation to his set chin and labored self-containment.  Von Ritz, despite his bedraggled masquerade was as composed and expressionless as though he had seen nothing beyond the expected.  With Von Ritz nothing was beyond the expected.

He had to-night counterfeited Benton’s disguise; stolen Benton’s car; substituted himself for the American and made a decisive effort to interrupt the kidnaping of a Queen.

Finding himself checkmated, he had joined forces with the Prince and brought the pursuit to a successful termination.  His manner now was precisely what it had been last night, when his only excitement had been a game of billiards.  Men who knew him would have told you that his manner had been the same on a certain red and smoky day when the order of Takavo had been pinned on his breast, in the reek and noise of a battlefield.

After a moment of tense silence, Benton took a step forward.

“At any suitable time,” he said, in a voice too low for Cara to catch, “I shall, of course, be entirely at your service.”

Pagratide drew a labored breath, but when he raised his head it was to lift his brows inquiringly.

“For what?” he asked in an equally low tone.  “Have I asked any questions?” In a matter-of-fact voice he added:  “It is growing late.  If Miss Carstow has finished the inspection of your yacht, I suggest a return.”

Benton recognized the other’s refusal to read his motive.  After all that was the best course; the only course.  Pagratide stepped forward.

“Mr. Benton had the pleasure of driving you down—­” he suggested, “may I have the same honor, returning?”

The girl met the eyes of the Prince, with defiance in her own.

“I am not a child!” she vehemently declared.  “We may as well be honest with each other.  If he had chosen to have it so, you could not have come aboard.  I must obey the decrees of State!” She paused, then impulsively swept on:  “I can force myself to do what I must do, but I cannot compel my heart—­that is his, utterly his.”  She raised both hands.  “Now you know,” she said.  “You may decide.”

Karyl inclined his head.

“I have questioned nothing,” he repeated.  “Will you honor me by returning in my car?”

Cara tilted her chin rebelliously.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think I shall.  My vacation ends to-morrow if you still wish it, but to-night it has not ended.  I return with Mr. Benton.”

Pagratide stiffened painfully, but with supreme self-mastery he forced a smile as though he had asked nothing more than a dance—­and had found it engaged.

“I must submit,” he replied in a steady voice.  “I even understand.  But you will agree with me that they”—­with a gesture toward the direction from which they had come—­“had best know nothing.”