VII THE ARMISTICE OF MOURNING
And so Frederick the Fourth of Valeria slept with his fathers, and Dehra,his daughter, ruled, as Regent, in his stead.
In the great crypt of the Cathedral, among the other Dalbergs, they hadlaid him away, with all the pomp and circumstance that befit aking--within, the gorgeous uniforms and vestments, the chanting priests,the floating incense; without, the boom of cannon, the toll of bells, thesolemn music of the bands, the click of hoofs, the rumble of thecaissons, the tramp of many feet.
When it was all done, the visiting Princes hurried away, the governmentalmachinery sped on, the Capital took up its usual routine, and all thatremained externally to remind the people of a ruler just and righteous,were the draped buildings and the crape upon the troops. And, at thedead's own express behest, even these had vanished on the fifteenth dayafter his demise. "Let the period of mourning be limited strictly to afortnight, both for the Nation and my House," he had written, in his ownhand, as a codicil to his Testament; and the Regent, with no shade ofhesitation, had ordered it as he wished. She knew it was Frederick's lastkindness to his subjects. A Court in sackcloth buries the Capital inashes, drives the tradesmen into insolvency, and bores the Nobility wellnigh into insanity or revolt.
And as she ordered, so she did--though sadly and regretfully--and, with ablessing upon her, the Court resumed its accustomed life and garb, andDornlitz its gayety and pleasures. Yet Valeria was sorry enough atFrederick's demise--sorrier far than he would have believed it could be.At the best, a King is of use, these days, only as a head for theGovernment--and when the new head is capable and popular, the old one isnot missed for long.
As it was, the people had scarcely realized that Frederick was dead whenthey were met with the amazing Proclamation of Dehra's Regency; with theresult that usually follows when sorrow and joy mingle, with joy minglinglast.
In the interval, there had been no developments as to the Book of Laws.The Duke of Lotzen had observed the very strictest of mourning; nottransgressing, in the slightest particular, the most trivial canon ofpropriety. He had remained practically secluded in his big residence onthe Alta Avenue, appearing in public only at intervals. He had paid hisbrief visit of condolence to the Princess and had been greeted by herwith calm and formal dignity. He had made his call of ceremony upon theGovernor of Dornlitz--the Archduke Armand--and had been received by himin the presence of half his Staff. Then, after the funeral of the deadKing, he had settled down to wait the termination of the two weeks ofenforced inactivity. He could well afford, for that long, to dally withthe future. So he subdued his natural indisposition to quiet and orderlyliving, and sternly bade Bigler and the others do likewise, telling themthat the search for the Laws and the removal of the American could abidefor the time.
But never a word did he speak to them of having seen the Book and whatFrederick had written the night before he died.
Sometime before midnight, of the day that Adolph, the valet, had beenkilled, the sergeant of the guard, in making his rounds, saw a manskulking in the private garden. At the order to stand, the fellow haddashed away, and, seemingly unharmed by the shot sent after him, heleaped the low wall into the park, where among the trees and bushes, hehad little difficulty in escaping. The matter was duly reported to theofficer of the day and an entry made of it, but as such occurrences wererather frequent in the park, due sometimes to petty pilferers from thetown, and sometimes to soldiers out without pass, it received no specialattention, beyond a cursory inspection of the locality the followingmorning.
Two days later, Adolph's body was discovered by a gardener who wasclipping the hedge; and then it was remembered that the valet had notbeen seen since the morning after Frederick's death. No one had given hima thought--in truth, no one cared anything about him. Like most of hisclass under such circumstances, he had won the cordial hatred of everyone about the Court--a spoiled, impudent and lying knave. Busy with theroyal funeral, and the great crowds it brought to the Capital, the policegave the matter scant regard--the fellow was known to them as a nightprowler and a frequenter of questionable resorts, and to have hadnumerous escapades with married women; and the autopsy indicating he hadbeen dead at least thirty-six hours, they had promptly ascribed the deathto the skulker shot at by the sergeant. There was no other clue to workon, so, after a perfunctory search, they shrugged it over among the otherunsolved. What was the use of bothering about a valet, any way! Besides,it was a case to let alone, unless special orders came from higherpowers.
So they saw to it that the affair was entirely suppressed--suchhappenings around royal palaces are not for the public--and theinformation was casually given out that the King's valet was sodistressed, by his royal master's death, he found it quite impossible toremain in Dornlitz, and had returned to France.
Once again, had the fickle Goddess smiled upon the Duke of Lotzen, stillcaptivated, doubtless, by the very debonairness of his villainy and hissteady gambler's nerve.
And all unwittingly the Archduke Armand had played directly into Lotzen'shands. Out of consideration for the Princess, he had insisted that theyforget the Book of Laws until the period of mourning were passed, andDehra, against her better judgment, had consented, though only uponcondition that they two should first make a thorough search of herfather's apartments, which they did the following morning; she evenclimbing up and looking behind the large pictures--much to Armand'samusement; he asking what would be the King's object in concealing theBook in such a place; and she retorting that, as there was no reason atall for concealing it, the unreasonable place was the most likely.
And in that she was very right; for the box itself was now the mostunreasonable place, yet even her woman's fancy stopped short of it.
The period of official mourning expired on the twentieth, and on thetwenty-first, the Princess telephoned to the Archduke to ride out to thePalace for luncheon that day, and to bring the American Ambassador withhim--unless Mr. Courtney would object to being with Helen Radnor--andthat the day being very warm they would be served under the trees nearthe sun dial, below the marble terrace--and that he and Courtney shouldjoin them there--and that Helen was with her now. And Armand had laughedand readily promised for them both.
As he hung up the receiver, Colonel Bernheim stood in the doorway, and henodded for him to come in.
Bernheim saluted and crossing to the desk put down a small package, aboutas large as one's fist.
"My lord," he said, "here is the steel vest."
The Archduke leaned back and laughed.
"You say that as naturally as though it were my cap or gloves," hecommented.
"And why not, sir--Ferdinand of Lotzen is in Dornlitz, and the truce isended."
"The truce?"
"The truce of mourning--you were quite safe so long as it lasted; Mooreand I made sure of that."
"Really, Colonel, you surprise me," said Armand. "How did you make sure?"
"By having some one buy Bigler plenty of wine, at the Club--and thenputting together stray words he let slip."
The Archduke shook his head in mock reproof.
"You and Moore are a wonderful pair," he said. "You think for me morethan I think for myself."
A smile touched Bernheim's stern mouth and impassive face.
"We need to, Your Highness," he answered. "You don't think at all; youleave it to Lotzen." He pushed the package a little nearer--"You willwear it, my lord?"
Armand took it, and, cutting the wrapper, shook out the wonderful steelvest, that had saved his life at the Vierle Masque when, from across thehedge, the assassin's dagger had sought his heart. It was, truly, amarvellous bit of craftsmanship; pliable as silk and scarcely more bulky,the tiny steel links so cunningly joined they had the appearance of darkgray cloth. He bent and twisted it in admiring contemplation. Verily,those armorers of old Milan understood their art--never could modern handhave forged and knit so perfect a garment. He found the mark on the back,where the
bravo's weapon struck--only a scratch, so faint it was almostindistinguishable, yet the blow had sent him plunging on his face.
"It served you well that night," said Bernheim.
The Archduke smiled. "And as its owner always does;" he smiled--and theold Aide bowed--"but there is no Masque to-night."
"Every night, now, is a Masque for Lotzen--and every day, too."
"Heaven, man! you wouldn't have me wear this constantly?"
"No--not in bed;" then seriously--"but at all other times, sir."
Armand pushed the vest back on the desk and frowned.
"Has it come to this, then--that my life isn't safe here--nor in myhouse, nor on the street! Is this civilization or savagery?"
Bernheim shrugged his shoulders.
"Neither," he said, "neither--it's Hell. It's always Hell where Lotzenplays. Surely, sir, you have not forgot the past."
"No--no--but that was a Masque, and assassination went with the costumesand the atmosphere; yet now, in Dornlitz of the twentieth century--Ican't bring myself to believe ... why don't you threaten me with poisonor a bomb?"
"Poison is possible, but not a bomb--it is not neat enough for Lotzen."
Armand looked at him in puzzled amusement.
"I see," he said, "I see--he murders artistically--he doesn't like amess."
"Just so, sir; and the most artistic and least messy is a neat holethrough the heart.... You will wear the vest, my lord?"
The Archduke's glance wandered to the window--electric cars were speedingdown the avenue--an automobile whizzed by--and another--and another.
"Look," said he, "look! isn't it absurd to talk of steel vests!"
Bernheim shook his head. "Lotzen does not belong yonder--he is a remnantof the Middle Ages."
"Well, I'm not; so no armor for me, my dear Bernheim--I'll keep my eyesopen and take my chances. I don't believe the crown of Valeria will bethe reward of an assassin."
Disappointment shone in the Aide's eyes.
"I'm something of a Fatalist, myself, sir," he said, "but I wouldn't playwith a tiger after I had goaded him to fury."
Armand smiled. "The case isn't exactly parallel."
"No--not exactly:--the tiger might not kill me."
The Archduke picked up the letter knife and slowly cut lines on theblotter.
"You need not go into the tiger's cage," he remarked.
"There isn't any cage--the beast is at large."
"Nonsense, Colonel; this fellow Lotzen has got on your nerves. I thoughtyou hadn't any."
"The pity of it is, sir, that he hasn't got on yours."
"And when he does," said Armand kindly, "will be time enough for thechain-mail."
Bernheim took the vest and deliberately laid it on the blotter.
"For the sake of those who love you, my lord," he said--"and"--turning toa picture of the Princess, which hung on the opposite wall, andsaluting--"for her whom we all serve."
The Archduke looked at the picture in silence for a moment.
"Send the vest to the Epsau," he said; "I will wear it--sometimes."
And Bernheim knew he had to be satisfied with the sometimes--though aseven that was more than he had dared to hope for, he was well content.
The Archduke and the American Ambassador met by appointment at the outergate of the City, and as the former had been delayed, they rode at speedto the Summer Palace. It was the first time they had been together,informally, since the King's death, but beyond the usual friendlygreeting and an occasional word en route there was no conversation. Therewas much that Armand wished to discuss with his friend, but this was notthe place for it--it needed a quiet room and the other aids to seriousconsultation.
"I want a word with you, Dick, before you go back to town," he remarked,as they dismounted.
And Courtney nodded comprehendingly.
"As many as you wish, my boy," he said.
But the Princess also wanted a word with Courtney; she knew his keeninsight into motives and men; his calm judicialness of judgment; hiscritical analysis of facts, and, most important of all, his influencewith Armand, and she desired his counsel and his aid. She had not forgotthe part he had played in the recent past; that but for him there wouldbe no Archduke Armand; that, indeed, it was this quiet diplomat whom shehad to thank for the happiest days of her life, and the happy prospectfor the days to come; and, but for whom, there would be to her only thememory of that ride in the forest with the American Captain Smith; andFerdinand of Lotzen would be King; and she--she might even be hisQueen--and have yet to learn his vileness and his villainy.
All this she knew, and her heart warmed to Courtney as now it warmed tonone other save Armand himself. And that very morning, as the two mencrossed the terrace and came toward them, she had told Lady Helen Radnor,with the smiling frankness of a comrade, that if she sent this man away,no act in all her life would equal it in folly; then without waiting foran answer she had gone to greet her guests.
Now, when the luncheon was ended, she dismissed the servants and turnedto Courtney.
"Will you do something for Armand?" she asked.
"Don't you think I have already done him service enough?" he said,looking at her with a significant smile--"more than he deserves or canever appreciate."
"Well, may be you have," she smiled, catching his humor, "so do this forme--help me to make him King."
"What can I do?" he asked.
She leaned a bit nearer. "Keep him firm for his birthright; don't let himfling it aside in disgust, if the struggle drags out, for long."
Courtney nodded. "I understand," he said; "but you need have no concern;you yourself will keep him firm--it's the only way he can make youQueen." He paused and tapped his cigarette meditatively against hisglass. "You think there isn't any doubt as to the decree in his favor?"he asked.
"None--absolutely none."
"Then all you have to do is to find the Book--that shouldn't be so verydifficult."
"True enough; it shouldn't--but it will be."
"You seem very positive," he said.
"A woman's intuition."
Courtney smiled. "Which isn't infallible."
"Will you try to prove that?" she asked. "Will you help us find theBook?" And without waiting for his answer she turned to the Archduke."Armand," she said, "tell Mr. Courtney what we know as to the Laws; Iwant his advice."
Armand laughed. "I fancy he already knows it, my dear--it's his businessto know things."
"And it's also particularly his business," she retorted, "never to betraythat he knows--therefore, we must tell him."
"Bear with him, Your Highness," said Courtney--"I assure you he willlearn in time.... Meanwhile, Monsieur le Prince, I'm all attention."
Armand leaned over to Lady Helen. "His manners are rather crass," heremarked, in a confidential whisper, "but he really means well." Then hepushed the cigarettes across to Courtney.
"Take a fresh one, old chap; the story may be a bit long."
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