_ CHAPTER XIII. THE THREE PRINCES
Beverly gasped. The countess stared blankly at the new guard. Yetive flushed deeply, bit her lip in hopeless chagrin, and dropped her eyes. A pretty turn, indeed, the play had taken! Not a word was uttered for a full half-minute; nor did the guilty witnesses venture forth from their retreat. Baldos stood tall and impassive, holding the curtain aside. At last the shadow of a smile crept into the face of the princess, but her tones were full of deep humility when she spoke.
"We crave permission to retire, your highness," she said, and there was virtuous appeal in her eyes. "I pray forgiveness for this indiscretion and implore you to be lenient with two miserable creatures who love you so well that they forget their dignity."
"I am amazed and shocked," was all that Beverly could say. "You may go, but return to me within an hour. I will then hear what you have to say."
Slowly, even humbly, the ruler of Graustark and her cousin passed beneath the upraised arm of the new guard. He opened a door on the opposite side of the room, and they went out, to all appearance thoroughly crestfallen. The steady features of the guard did not relax for the fraction of a second, but his heart was thumping disgracefully.
"Come here, Baldos," commanded Beverly, a bit pale, but recovering her wits with admirable promptness. "This is a matter which I shall dispose of privately. It is to go no further, you are to understand."
"Yes, your highness."
"You may go now. Colonel Quinnox will explain everything," she said hurriedly. She was eager to be rid of him. As he turned away she observed a faint but peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Come here, sir!" she exclaimed hotly. He paused, his face as sombre as an owl's. "What do you mean by laughing like that?" she demanded. He caught the fierce note in her voice, but gave it the proper interpretation.
"Laughing, your highness?" he said in deep surprise. "You must be mistaken. I am sure that I could not have laughed in the presence of a princess."
"It must have been a--a shadow, then," she retracted, somewhat startled by his rejoinder. "Very well, then; you are dismissed."
As he was about to open the door through which he had entered the room, it swung wide and Count Marlanx strode in. Baldos paused irresolutely, and then proceeded on his way without paying the slightest attention to the commander of the army. Marlanx came to an amazed stop and his face flamed with resentment.
"Halt, sir!" he exclaimed harshly. "Don't you know enough to salute me, sir?"
Baldos turned instantly, his figure straightening like a flash. His eyes met those of the Iron Count and did not waver, although his face went white with passion.
"And who are you, sir?" he asked in cold, steely tones. The count almost reeled.
"Your superior officer--that should be enough for you!" he half hissed with deadly levelness.
"Oh, then I see no reason why I should not salute you, sir," said Baldos, with one of his rare smiles. He saluted his superior officer a shade too elaborately and turned away. Marlanx's eyes glistened.
"Stop! Have I said you could go, sir? I have a bit of advice to--"
"My command to go comes from _your_ superior, sir," said Baldos, with irritating blandness.
"Be patient, general," cried Beverly in deep distress. "He does not know any better. I will stand sponsor for him." And Baldos went away with a light step, his blood singing, his devil-may-care heart satisfied. The look in her eyes was very sustaining. As he left the castle he said aloud to himself with an easy disregard of the consequences:
"Well, it seems that I am to be associated with the devil as well as with angels. Heavens! June is a glorious month."
"Now, you promised you'd be nice to him, General Marlanx," cried Beverly the instant Baldos was out of the room. "He's new at this sort of thing, you know, and besides, you didn't address him very politely for an utter stranger."
"The insolent dog," snarled Marlanx, his self-control returning slowly. "He shall be taught well and thoroughly, never fear, Miss Calhoun. There is a way to train such recruits as he, and they never forget what they have learned."
"Oh, please don't be harsh with him," she pleaded. The smile of the Iron Count was not at all reassuring. "I know he will be sorry for what he has done, and you--"
"I am quite sure he will be sorry," said he, with a most agreeable bow in submission to her appeal.
"Do you want to see Mr. Lorry?" she asked quickly. "I will send for him, general." She was at the door, impatient to be with the banished culprits.
"My business with Mr. Lorry can wait," he began, with a smile meant to be inviting, but which did not impress her at all pleasantly.
"Well, anyway, I'll tell him you're here," she said, her hand on the door-knob. "Will you wait here? Good-bye!" And then she was racing off through the long halls and up broad stair-cases toward the boudoir of the princess. There is no telling how long the ruffled count remained in the ante-room, for the excited Beverly forgot to tell Lorry that he was there.
There were half a dozen people in the room when Beverly entered eagerly. She was panting with excitement. Of all the rooms in the grim old castle, the boudoir of the princess was the most famously attractive. It was really her home, the exquisite abiding place of an exquisite creature. To lounge on her divans, to loll in the chairs, to glide through her priceless rugs was the acme of indolent pleasure. Few were they who enjoyed the privileges of "Little Heaven," as Harry Anguish had christened it on one memorable night, long before the princess was Mrs. Grenfall Lorry.
"_Now_, how do you feel?" cried the flushed American girl, pausing in the door to point an impressive finger at the princess, who was lying back in a huge chair, the picture of distress and annoyance.
"I shall never be able to look that man in the face again," came dolefully from Yetive's humbled lips. Dagmar was all smiles and in the fittest of humors. She was the kind of a culprit who loves the punishment because of the crime.
"Wasn't it ridiculous, and wasn't it just too lovely?" she cried.
"It was extremely theatrical," agreed Beverly, seating herself on the arm of Yetive's chair and throwing a warm arm around her neck. "Have you all heard about it?" she demanded, naively, turning to the others, who unquestionably had had a jumbled account of the performance.
"You got just what you deserved," said Lorry, who was immensely amused.
"I wonder what your august vagabond thinks of his princess and her ladies-in-hiding?" mused Harry Anguish. The Count and Countess Halfont were smiling in spite of the assault upon the dignity of the court.
"I'd give anything to know what he really thinks," said the real princess. "Oh, Beverly, wasn't it awful? And how he marched us out of that room!"
"I thought it was _great_," said Beverly, her eyes glowing. "Wasn't it splendid? And isn't he good looking?"
"He is good looking, I imagine, but I am no judge, dear. It was utterly impossible for me to look at his face," lamented the princess.
"What are you going to do with us?" asked Dagmar penitently.
"You are to spend the remainder of your life in a dungeon with Baldos as guard," decided Miss Calhoun.
"Beverly, dear, that man is no ordinary person," said the princess, quite positively.
"Of course he isn't. He's a tall, dark mystery."
"I observed him as he crossed the terrace this morning," said Lorry. "He's a striking sort of chap, and I'll bet my head he's not what he claims to be."
"He claims to be a fugitive, you must remember," said Beverly, in his defense.
"I mean that he is no common malefactor or whatever it may be. Who and what do you suppose he is? I confess that I'm interested in the fellow and he looks as though one might like him without half trying. Why haven't you dug up his past history, Beverly? You are so keen about him."
"He positively refuses to let me dig," explained Beverly. "I tried, you know, but he--he--well, he squelched me."
"Well, after all is said and done, he caught us peeping to-day, and I am filled with shame," said the princess. "It doesn't matter who he is, he must certainly have a most unflattering opinion as to _what_ we are."
"And he is sure to know us sooner or later," said the young countess, momentarily serious.
"Oh, if it ever comes to that I shall be in a splendid position to explain it all to him," said Beverly. "Don't you see, I'll have to do a lot of explaining myself?"
"Baron Dangloss!" announced the guard of the upper hall, throwing open the door for the doughty little chief of police.
"Your highness sent for me?" asked he, advancing after the formal salutation. The princess exhibited genuine amazement.
"I did, Baron Dangloss, but you must have come with the wings of an eagle. It is really not more than three minutes since I gave the order to Colonel Quinnox." The baron smiled mysteriously, but volunteered no solution. The truth is, he was entering the castle doors as the messenger left them, but he was much too fond of effect to spoil a good situation by explanations. It was a long two miles to his office in the Tower. "Something has just happened that impels me to ask a few questions concerning Baldos, the new guard."
"May I first ask what has happened?" Dangloss was at a loss for the meaning of the general smile that went around.
"It is quite personal and of no consequence. What do you know of him? My curiosity is aroused. Now, be quiet, Beverly; you are as eager to know as the rest of us."
"Well, your highness, I may as well confess that the man is a puzzle to me. He comes here a vagabond, but he certainly does not act like one. He admits that he is being hunted, but takes no one into his confidence. For that, he cannot be blamed."
"Have you any reason to suspect who he is?" asked Lorry.
"My instructions were to refrain from questioning him," complained Dangloss, with a pathetic look at the original plotters. "Still, I have made investigations along other lines."
"And who is he?" cried Beverly, eagerly.
"I don't know," was the disappointing answer. "We are confronted by a queer set of circumstances. Doubtless you all know that young Prince Dantan is flying from the wrath of his half-brother, our lamented friend Gabriel. He is supposed to be in our hills with a half-starved body of followers. It seems impossible that he could have reached our northern boundaries without our outposts catching a glimpse of him at some time. The trouble is that his face is unknown to most of us, I among the others. I have been going on the presumption that Baldos is in reality Prince Dantan. But last night the belief received a severe shock."
"Yes?" came from several eager lips.
"My men who are watching the Dawsbergen frontier came in last night and reported that Dantan had been seen by mountaineers no later than Sunday, three days ago. These mountaineers were in sympathy with him, and refused to tell whither he went. We only know that he was in the southern part of Graustark three days ago. Our new guard speaks many languages, but he has never been heard to use that of Dawsbergen. That fact in itself is not surprising, for, of all things, he would avoid his mother tongue. Dantan is part English by birth and wholly so by cultivation. In that he evidently finds a mate in this Baldos."
"Then, he really isn't Prince Dantan?" cried Beverly, as though a cherished ideal had been shattered.
"Not if we are to believe the tales from the south. Here is another complication, however. There is, as you know, Count Halfont, and perhaps all of you, for that matter, a pretender to the throne of Axphain, the fugitive Prince Frederic. He is described as young, good looking, a scholar and the next thing to a pauper."
"Baldos a mere pretender," cried Beverly in real distress. "Never!"
"At any rate, he is not what he pretends to be," said the baron, with a wise smile.
"Then, you think he may be Prince Frederic?" asked Lorry, deeply interested.
"I am inclined to think so, although another complication has arisen. May it please your highness, I am in an amazingly tangled state of mind," admitted the baron, passing his hand over his brow.
"Do you mean that another mysterious prince has come to life?" asked Yetive, her eyes sparkling with interest in the revelations.
"Early this morning a despatch came to me from the Grand Duke Michael of Rapp-Thorberg, a duchy in western Europe, informing me that the duke's eldest son had fled from home and is known to have come to the far east, possibly to Graustark."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Anguish. "It never rains but it hails, so here's hail to the princes three."
"We are the Mecca for runaway royalty, it seems," said Count Halfont.
"Go on with the story, Baron Dangloss," cried the princess. "It is like a book."
"A description of the young man accompanies the offer of a large reward for information that may lead to his return home for reconciliation. And--" here the baron paused dramatically.
"And what?" interjected Beverly, who could not wait.
"The description fits our friend Baldos perfectly!"
"You don't mean it?" exclaimed Lorry. "Then, he may be any one of the three you have mentioned?"
"Let me tell you what the grand duke's secretary says. I have the official notice, but left it in my desk. The runaway son of the grand duke is called Christobal. He is twenty-seven years of age, speaks English fluently, besides French and our own language. It seems that he attended an English college with Prince Dantan and some of our own young men who are still in England. Six weeks ago he disappeared from his father's home. At the same time a dozen wild and venturous retainers left the grand duchy. The party was seen in Vienna a week later, and the young duke boldly announced that he was off to the east to help his friend Dantan in the fight for his throne. Going on the theory that Baldos is this same Christobal, we have only to provide a reason for his preferring the wilds to the comforts of our cities. In the first place, he knows there is a large reward for his apprehension and he fears--our police. In the second place, he does not care to direct the attention of Prince Dantan's foes to himself. He missed Dantan in the hills and doubtless was lost for weeks. But the true reason for his flight is made plain in the story that was printed recently in Paris and Berlin newspapers. According to them, Christobal rebelled against his father's right to select a wife for him. The grand duke had chosen a noble and wealthy bride, and the son had selected a beautiful girl from the lower walks of life. Father and son quarreled and neither would give an inch. Christobal would not marry his father's choice, and the grand duke would not sanction his union with the fair plebeian."
Here Beverly exclaimed proudly, her face glowing: "He doesn't look like the sort of man who could be bullied into marrying anybody if he didn't want to."
"And he strikes me as the sort who would marry any one he set his heart upon having," added the princess, with a taunting glance at Miss Calhoun.
"Umph!" sniffed Beverly defiantly. The baron went on with his narrative, exhibiting signs of excitement.
"To lend color to the matter, Christobal's sweetheart, the daughter of a game-warden, was murdered the night before her lover fled. I know nothing of the circumstances attending the crime, but it is my understanding that Christobal is not suspected. It is possible that he is ignorant even now of the girl's fate."
"Well, by the gods, we have a goodly lot of heroes about us," exclaimed Lorry.
"But, after all," ventured the Countess Halfont, "Baldos may be none of these men."
"Good heavens, Aunt Yvonne, don't suggest anything so distressing," said Yetive. "He _must_ be one of them."
"I suggest a speedy way of determining the matter," said Anguish. "Let us send for Baldos and ask him point blank who he is. I think it is up to him to clear away the mystery."
"No!" cried Beverly, starting to her feet.
"It seems to be the only way," said Lorry.
"But I promised him that no questions should be asked," said Beverly, almost tearfully but quite resolutely. "Didn't I, yet--your highness?"
"Alas, yes!" said the princess, with a pathetic little smile of resignation, but with loyalty in the clasp of her hand. _