I enjoyed myself very much. The princess was evidently, to judge from her conversation, a little Puritan, and I always love a pretty Puritan. That rogue Dumergue agreed with all her views, and the prince allowed his silence to pass for assent.
“We do try at court,” she ended by saying, “to set an example to society; and, as the king is unmarried, of course I have to do a great deal.”
At this moment, a servant entered, bearing a card on a salver. He approached the princess.
“A gentleman desires the honor of an audience with Her Royal Highness,” he announced.
“At this time of night!” exclaimed the princess.
“He says his business will not bear delay, and prays for a interview.”
“All business will bear delay,” said the prince, “and generally be the better for it. Who is he?”
“The Baron de Barbot.”
“Oh, I must see him,” cried the princess. “Why, he is a dear friend of ours.”
I had detected a rapid glance pass between Dumergue and the prince. The latter then answered:
“Yes, we must see Barbot. If you will go to the drawing room, I’ll take your message myself.”
“That is kind of you,” said the princess, retiring.
“Give me the card,” said the prince, “and ask the baron to be kind enough to wait a few minutes.”
The servant went out, and the prince turned to me.
“Why didn’t you kill him, Mr. Jason?” he asked.
“Is it – ” I began.
“Yes, it’s your baron,” said Dumergue.
“It’s really a little awkward,” said the prince, as though gently remonstrating with fate. “We had arranged it all so pleasantly.”
“It would upset the princess,” said Dumergue.
“What upsets the princess upsets me,” said the prince. “I am a devoted husband, Mr. Jason.”
“If there is anything I can do, sir,” said I, “rely on me.”
“You overwhelm me,” said the prince. “Is there anything, Dumergue?”
“Why, yes, sir. Mr. Jason was at the ball. Why should he have fought, if he wasn’t?”
“You are right, Dumergue. Mr. Jason, you were at the ball.”
“But, sir, I – I don’t know anything about the ball.”
“It was just like other balls – other masked balls,” said Dumergue.
“Perhaps a little more so,” added the prince, lighting a cigarette.
“There was a scandal at the last one,” Dumergue continued, “and the king strictly forbade anyone connected with the court to go, under pain of his severe displeasure. There had been a rumor that a royal prince was at the one before, and consequently – ”
“That royal prince was specially commanded not to go to this one,” said the prince.
“It was bad enough,” resumed Dumergue, “that it should be discovered that the princess’ favorite lady-in-waiting, the Countess von Hohstein – ”
“Who bore such a high character,” interjected the prince.
“Did go, and, moreover, went under the escort of an unknown gentleman – a gentleman whose name she refused to give.”
“Was that discovered?” said I.
“It was. This baron detected her, and, with a view, as we have reason to believe, to compelling her companion to declare himself, publicly insulted her.”
“Whereupon,” said the prince, “you very properly knocked him down, Mr. Jason.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“The princess,” continued Dumergue, “was terribly agitated and annoyed at the scandal and the duel which followed. And of course the countess left the court, and returned to England.”
“To England?”
“Yes; she was a Miss Mason. The king ennobled her at the princess’ request.”
I smiled and said:
“And now there is a question about who her escort was?”
“There is,” said Dumergue. “It is believed that the baron entertains an extraordinary idea that the gentleman in question was no other than – ”
“Myself,” said the prince, throwing away his cigarette.
I remembered the baron’s strange questions before the duel.
“Dispose of me as you please, sir,” said I.
“Then you were at the ball, and knocked the baron down!” exclaimed Dumergue.
“A thousand thanks,” said the prince.
“But what are we to do with him now, sir?” asked Dumergue. “The princess will be expecting him.”
“I will go and tell the princess of Mr. Jason’s confession. You go with Mr. Jason, and tell the baron that the princess cannot receive him. I want him to see Mr. Jason.”
“But, sir,” said I, “I didn’t fight under my own name.”
The prince was already gone, and Dumergue was halfway down the stairs. I followed the latter.
We found the baron in the smoking room, taking a cup of coffee. A couple of men sat talking on a settee near him; otherwise the room was empty.
Dumergue went up to the baron, I following a step or two behind him. The baron rose and bowed coldly.
“I am charged,” said Dumergue, “to express His Royal Highness’ regrets that Her Royal Highness cannot have the pleasure of receiving you. She has retired to her apartments.”
“The servant told me she was at supper.”
“He was misinformed.”
“I’m not to be put off like that. I’ll have a refusal from the princess herself.”
“I will inform His Royal Highness.”
The baron was about to answer, when he caught sight of me.
“Ah, there’s the jackal!” he said, with a sneer.
I stepped forward.
“Do you refer to me?” I asked.
“Unless I am wrong in recognizing my former antagonist, Colonel Despard.”
This was just what I had anticipated. Dumergue did not seem surprised either.
“Of course it is Colonel Despard,” he said. “You would not be likely to forget him, baron.”
We had been speaking in a low tone, but at Dumergue’s sneer, the baron lost his temper. Raising his voice, he said, almost in a shout:
“Then I tell Colonel Despard that he is a mean hound.”
If I assumed the colonel’s name, I felt I must at least defend it from imputations. I began:
“Once before, baron, I chastised – ”
I was interrupted. One of the men on the settee interposed, rising as he spoke.
“I beg pardon, gentlemen, but is it Colonel Despard of the Hussars to whom you refer?”
“Yes,” said the baron.
“Then that gentleman is not Colonel Despard,” announced our new friend. “I am Colonel Despard’s brother-in-law.”
For a moment I was at a loss; things were falling out so very unfortunately. Dumergue turned on the stranger fiercely:
“Pray, sir, was your interposition solicited?”
“Certainly not. But if this gentleman says he is Colonel Despard, I take leave to contradict him.”
“I should advise you to do nothing of the sort,” said I. “M. Dumergue knows me very well.”
“This person,” said the baron, “passed himself off as Colonel Despard, and, by that pretext, obtained from me the honor of a duel with me. It appears that he is a mere impostor.”
The other man on the settee called out cheerfully, “Bob, send for the police!”
Dumergue looked rather sheepish; his invention failed him.
“Do either or both of these gentlemen,” said I, indicating the baron and the colonel’s brother-in-law, “call me an impostor?”
“I do,” said the baron, with a sneering laugh.
“I am compelled to assert it,” said the other, with a bow.
I had edged near the little table, on which the baron’s coffee had been served. I now took up the coffee-pot and milk-jug. The coffee I threw in the baron’s face, and the milk in that of his ally. Both men sprang forward with an oath. At the same moment, the electric light went out, and I was violently pulled back toward the door, and someone whispered, “Vanish as quick as you can. Go home – go anywhere.”
“All right, sir,” said I, for I recognized the prince’s voice. “But what are they doing?”
“Never mind; be off.” And the prince handed me a hat.
I walked quickly to the door, and hailed a hansom. As I drove off, I saw the prince skip upstairs, and a posse of waiters rush toward the smoking room. I went home to bed.
The next morning, as I was breakfasting, my man told me two gentlemen were below, and wished to see me. I told him to show them up, and the prince and Dumergue came in, the former wrapped up in a fur coat, with a collar that hid most of his face.
“The prince would like some brandy in a little soda water,” said Dumergue.
I administered the cordial. The prince drank it, and then turned to me.
“Did you get home all right?” he asked.
“Perfectly, sir.”
“After you took leave of us, we had an explanation. Mr. Wetherington – it was Mr. Wetherington at whom you threw the milk – was very reasonable. I explained the whole matter, and he said he was sure his brother-in-law would pardon the liberty.”
“I’m afraid I took rather a liberty with him.”
“Oh,” said Dumergue, “we made him believe the milk was meant for the baron, as well as the coffee. I said we took it au lait at Glottenberg.”
“It’s lucky I thought of turning out the light,” said the prince. “I was looking on, and it seemed about time.”
“What did the hotel people say, sir?”
“They are going to sue the electric company,” said the prince, with a slight smile. “It seems there is a penalty if the light doesn’t work properly.”
“And the baron, sir?”
“We kicked the baron out as a blackmailer,” said Dumergue. “He is going to bring an action.”
“I return to Glottenberg to-day,” concluded the prince; “accompanied by the princess and M. Dumergue.”
I thought this course very prudent, and said so. “But,” I added, “I shall be called as a witness.”
“No; Colonel Despard will.”
“Well, then – ”
“He will establish an alibi. Voilà tout!”
“I am glad it all ends so happily, sir.”
“Well, there is one matter,” said the prince. “I had to tell the princess of your indiscretion in taking Mme. Vooght – ”
“Who, sir?”
“Mr. Jason,” put in Dumergue, “has not heard that the countess and Vooght are married.”
“Yes,” said the prince, “they are married, and will settle in America. Vooght is a loss; but we can’t have everything in this world.”
“I hope Herr Vooght will be happy,” said I.
“I should think it very unlikely,” said the prince. “But, to return. The princess is very angry with you. She insists – ”
“That I should never be presented to her again?”
“On the contrary; that you should come and apologize in person. Only on condition of bringing you again could I make my peace for bringing you once.”
I was very much surprised, but of course I said I was at the princess’ commands.
“You don’t mind meeting us in Paris? We stay there a few days,” said Dumergue.
“You see,” added the prince, “Dumergue says there are things called writs, and – ”
“I will be in Paris to-morrow, sir.”
“I shall be there to-day,” said the prince, rising.
CHAPTER III.
The Mission of the Ruby
I could not imagine why the princess desired to see me. It would have been much more natural to punish the impertinence of which I had no doubt been guilty – I mean, of which it was agreed on all hands that I had been guilty – by merely declining to receive me or see me again. Even the desire for a written apology would have been treating me as of too much account. But she wanted to see me. What I had heard of the princess’ character utterly forbade any idea which ought not to have been, but would have been, pleasant to entertain. No; she clearly wanted me, but what for I could not imagine.
When I went to claim my audience, the prince was not visible, nor Dumergue either, and I was at once received by the princess alone. She was looking smaller, and more simple and helpless than ever. I also thought her looking prettier, and I enjoyed immensely the pious, severe, forgiving little rebuke which she administered to me. I humbly craved pardon, and had no difficulty in obtaining it. Indeed, she became very gracious.
“You must come to Glottenberg,” she said, “in a few months’ time.”
“To obey Your Royal Highness’ commands will be a delightful duty,” said I, bowing.
She rose and stood by the fire, “toying” (as the novelists say) with her fan.
“You seem to be an obliging man, Mr. Jason,” she said. “You were ready to oblige Mme. Vooght.”
I made a gesture of half-serious protest.
“I wonder,” she continued, “if you would do me a little service.”
“I shall be most honored if I may hope to be able to,” said I. What did she want?
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