“Ah, impostor, here you are!”
It was Dumergue, smiling quietly at me. I greeted him with surprise and pleasure.
“How is the baron?” I asked.
“He cheated the – grave,” answered Dumergue.
“And the countess?”
“Hush! I have a message for you.”
“From her?” I inquired, not, I fear, without eagerness.
“No,” he replied, “from the prince. He desires that you should be presented to him.”
“Who is he?”
“I forgot. Prince Ferdinand of Glottenberg.”
“Indeed! He’s in London, then?”
“Yes, in that box,” and he pointed to the bored man, and added:
“Come along; he hates being kept waiting.”
“He looks as if he hated most things,” I remarked.
“Well, most things are detestable,” said Dumergue, leading the way.
The prince rose and greeted me with fatigued graciousness.
“I am very much indebted to you, Mr. Jason,” he said, “for – ”
I began to stammer an apology for my intrusion into his affairs.
“For,” he resumed, without noticing what I said, “a moment’s bewilderment. I quite enjoyed it.”
I bowed, and he continued.
“The only things I cling to in life, Mr. Jason, are a quiet time at home and my income. You have been very discreet. If you hadn’t, I might have lost those two things. I am very much obliged. Will you give me the pleasure of your company at supper? Dumergue, the princess will be delighted to see Mr. Jason?”
“Yes, sir, Her Royal Highness will be delighted,” answered Dumergue.
“Where was the princess going?” asked the prince.
“To a meeting of the Women’s International Society for the Promotion of Morality, at the Mansion House, sir.”
“Mon Dieu!” said the prince.
“His Majesty is much interested in the society, sir.”
“I am sure my brother would be. Come along, Mr. Jason.”
The prince and princess were staying at the Hôtel Magnifique in Northumberland Avenue. We drove thither, and were told that the princess had returned. Upon further inquiry, made by Dumergue, it appeared that it would be agreeable to her to sup with the prince and to receive Mr. Jason. So we went into the dining room and found her seated by the fire. After greeting me, she said to the prince:
“I have just written a long account of our meeting to the king. He will be so interested.”
She was a small woman, with a gentle manner and a low, sweet voice. She looked like an amiable and intelligent girl of eighteen, and had a pretty, timid air, which made me wish to assure her of my respectful protection.
“My brother,” said the prince, “is a man of catholic tastes.”
“It is necessary in a king, sir,” suggested Dumergue.
The prince did not answer him, but offered his arm to his wife, to escort her to the table. She motioned me to sit on her right hand, and began to prattle gently to me about the court of Glottenberg. The prince put in a word here and there, and Dumergue laughed appreciatively whenever the princess’ descriptions were neat and appropriate – at least, so I interpreted his delicate flattery.
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