The Princess Dehra
BY JOHN REED SCOTT.
Copyright. 1908, by John Reed Scott
“What!” said she impatient
ly, “it can’t be opened?—we
have failed? impossible, it must
be opened—try again, .Tessac.”
“May be it’s only jammed,”
said Moore; “come, I'll help
you.”
But still the stone refused to
stir—suddenly it moved a very
little—caught—moved a little
more — caught again — then
wrenched itself free, with a
grinding scrape, ajid swung slow
ly around.
I They heard it collide with
something; the next moment
same a terrific crash of shatter
ing glass, and the resounding
clatter of a metal tray.
Moore ground back an oath.
“Close the stone!” said lie in
stantly, “quick, man, quick!”
But though it seemed to take
an eternity to shut down, there
was not the slightest sound, or
other indication that any one
had been aroused.
“What shall we do?” he asked
the princess; “that din must
have been heard; shall wc wait
and risk another try, or escape
now by the postern before we
could be cut off?”
we will risK anoiner xry,
Raid she, at once. “Give the
word whenever you wish.”
For himself he was well con
tent; his fighting blood was up,
and here might be his opportuni
ty to have it out with Lotzen, so
he settled back to wait, harken
ing for the sound of any one com
ing by the passage; the location
of the broken glass would tell
the duke instantly the cause, and
his first aet, naturally, would be
to send a party around to inter
cept them; though, being a
stranger in his own castle, he
might not know of the secret
way, in which case the accident
would have no materially ad
verse result save, possibly, to
startle those within hearing from
a sound sleep.
And while they delayed, Moore
gossiped in whispers with the re
gent, hoping to-divert her, if only
a very little, from the heavy
straiu she must be under—the
blackness was enough, in itself,
for a woman to endure, without
the danger. And he marvelled
at her calmness and ease, and the
light laugh which came at times.
“It’s good of you, colonel,”
said she finally, “but I think I’m
past fearing now. T was horribly
afraid at first, and the rats al
most made me faint with terror,
but now I'm sort of dazed,
dreaming, automatic, whatever it
is—when* the reaction comes,
there likely will be hysterics-*
hut that shan’t be until all this
is ended—it’s this inaction that
is the most trying.”
moore toucnea dessac.
“How long have we been wait
ing.?’* he asked.
“Well on to half an hour,
sir.” *
“Then swing the stone.”
This time it moved instantly
and noiselessly. Moore put his
head through the opening and
listened; . . . save for the tick
ing of a clock, somewhere across
the room, there was perfect quiet.
.... Suddenly it chimed
twice; when the last reverbera
tion had died, ho stepped care
fully inside; the princess and the
others followed.
t The library was as dark as the
passage; with a touch of warn
ing to the regent, Moore pressed
the torch and flashed the stream
of white light around the walls
—fortune favored them; the
room was unoccupied, ami every
door was closed. Then the light
struck the iron safe, and the
princess, with the faintest ex
clamation of apprehension,
grasped her adjutant’s arm and
pointed at it. If the book were
in it, their visit would be barren;
there was neither opportunity
nor means to break inside. For
the first time, the idea of failure
touched her—she had been so
full of assurance, so confident
that once in the duke's library
and success was certain. Even
when Moore suggested a safe she
had waved it aside heedlessly.
Her mind had been centered on
the desk—that the book must
surely be in it. The light reached
the big, flat-topped one in the
middle of the room ; with a quick
spring she was at it, and Moore
beside her.
Swiftly they went through the
drawers—nothing . . . noth
ing . . . nothing,. . . ah!ta
bundle in black cloth—she tossed
‘it. out and fairly tore loose the
strings—a glance was Enough—
leather—metal hinges—the book !
the book ! at last!
. In an agony of delight ahe
flung the cloth around it.
Come!—come!-- ’ ’
A shrill whistle—the doors
were thrown open wide; in
bounded three men, a lighted
candelabra in each hand, and be
hind them a dozen more with
rifles leveled. At the same mo
ment, the duke himself stepped
from behind a curtain, and closed
1he stone into place.
At the whistle, Pe Coursey,
Marsov and old Jessac had
sprung to Dehra’s side and, with
Moore, ranged themselves around
her—and now they stood there,
five masked figures, swords
drawn, the center of a circle of
impending death, every man
ready to fling himself upon the
guns and chance it, hut re
strained because of her they were
sworn to guard.
The duke gave a chuckling
laugh.
“Altogether a very striking
picture,” he remarked, with a
wave of his hand around the
room; “the candles—the masks
—the swords—the guns—the at
titudes;—it is a pity, Cousin Ar
mand, you cannot see it as I do.”
“Ho thinks I am the arch
duke,” Moore whispered to the
regent; “let him think it.”
i our coming tonight was a
surprise,” the duke was saying,
“I admit it—I had not expected
you before tomorrow at the earl
iest—my compliments on your
expeditiousness.” He drew out
a cigaret and lighted it at one
of the candles—then flung the
box over on. the desk; ‘‘help
yourselves, messieurs, la dern
iere cigaret/’ he laughed with
sneering malevolence.
‘‘Keep perfectly still/’ Moore
cautioned, very low. ‘‘If it come
to the worst, I’ll try to kill him
first.
‘‘Did you address me, cous
in?” Lotzen asked; ‘ ‘ a little loud
er, please—and keep your hand
outside your coat; the first of
you who tries for his revolver
will precipitate a massacre—
even poor marksmen can’t well
miss at such a distance, and on
the whole, these fellows are
rather skillful.” He smoked a
bit in silence, tapping the splin
tered glass on the floor with the
point of his sword. ‘‘Behold,
cousin, my preservers—a decfmt
| er and some slender Venetian
goblets; queer things, surely, to
decide the fate of a kingdom.
But for their fall, you would
1 have won. Now-” he
glanced significantly toward the
ready rifles. ‘‘Yet, on the
whole, I wish you had waited un
til another night—it could have
been done elsewhere so much
more neatly—before you got here
—or saw that, the package in the
black cloth. You came upon me
so suddenly, I had time only to
take you—and now that I have
you, frankly, cousin, I’m at a loss
how to dispose of you—and your
good frieuds. . . . Come, I’ll
be generous; choose your own
way, make it as easy as you like
—only, make it.”
A siignt stir caused mm to
turn. Madeline Spencer, in a
shimmering white negligee, was
standing in the doorway.
“Ah, my dear, come here,” he
said; “this is altogether the best
point of view for the picture*.
‘The End of the Game* is its title
—is it not, cousin?”
In this woman’s life there had
been many scenes, strange bi
zarre, fantastic yet never one so
fiercely fateful as was this. And
for once she was frightened—
the flickering candelabra held
aloft—the leveled guns—the
masked group around the desk
—th lone man leaning nonchal
antly on a chair, smiling, idly in
different, as much the master of
it all as a painter, brush poised
before his canvas, able to smear
it out at a single stroke.
He held out his baud to her.
She shook her bead, meaning to
go away; yet lingering, fasci
nated and intense. Armand Dal
berg was yonder—on the brink
of the grave, she knew. Once
she had loved him—still loved
him, may be—but assuredly not
as she loved herself, and the
power of wealth and place. Nor
could she save him even if she
try; so much she knew beyond
a question, so, why try.
The duke faced his prisoners.
“Come, cousin mine, what
| shall it be: swords, bullets, poi
son? Time passes. You have
disturbed me at an unseemly
hour, and I must to sleep again.
. . . . No answer, cousin?
Truly, you have changed; once
your tongue was free enough;
and it’s not from fright, I’m
sure; that, I will grant—you’re
no more afraid than am I myself.
However, if you won’t choose,
I’ll have to do it for you. . . .
You came by the secret passage,
and by it shall you return—part
way-—bound, but not gagged, it
won’t be necessary; please ap
preciate my leniency. Then,
while you are lying quietly
there, the revolving stones shall
be sealed so tight that mortal
man can never find them. Is it
not a fine plan, cousin, to have
been devised so quickly*; and are
you not proud of the mausoleum
that you, a poor, unknown Amer
ican, will have: the titular castle
of Valeria’s new ki»g”
At first, the princess had been
cold with terror—the muzzles of
loaded rifles at 10 paces, are not
for women’s nerves; but at the
duke talked she grew calmer,
and the fear subsided, and anger
•ame instead. And even as he
seemed to take a devlish pleas
.se in grilling his victim* with
'•sjie-orovoking words, so she
let him run along, to dig his
.nvi: grave the deeper.
Now she stepped out from the
group, and dropped her mask.
“Which cousin do you think
you have been addressing, my
lord of Lotzen?” she asked, tak
ing off her hat.
The commotion in the room
was instant; but the duke stayed
it with an angry gesture. His
men were foreigners, and free of
ony sentiment beyond the sheen
of gold.
bo, you little fool, he
laughed, “you have dared to
come here, tool Do you fancy
that even you ean save your up
start lover?”
“If you mean his royal high
ness the Archduke Armand,”
said she, very quietly, “he needs
no saving—he is not here.”
There was but one person in
all the world whose word Ferdi
nand of Lotzen would accept as
truth: he knew the Princess
Dehra never lied. And now he
sprang up.
“Not here!” he cried, “not
here 1’ ’
She turned to her companions.
Messieurs, will you do me the
courtesy to unmask?”
The duke ran his eyes over the
four, and shrugged his shoul
ders.
“I thank you, messieurs,”
he, “I shall not forget you, be
lieve me I shall not.—But where,
cousin, is his royal highness the
Archduke Armand?” (sneering
out every word of the title).
“Did you lose him on the wayt
—or is he skulking in the pas
sage.”
Dehra laughed scornfully.
“You change front quickly; a
moment shies you doubted his
courage no more than your own.
This is my own adventure;
neither the archduke, nor any
one else in Dalberg castle, is
aware of it.”
Lotzen bowed. “My thanks,
cousin, for that last bit of news
—I know the better, now, how
to dispose of you and your
friends. ’ ’
The princess walked over and
sat on the corner of the desk.
“Am I to understand, piy lord,
that you would attempt to re
strain me and my escort from
leaving this castle?”
. . rm .1 . _
mum* wuo emer a residence
with criminal intent, and are ap
prehended in the act, can hardly
expect to escape unscathed. You
have overlooked the fact, doubt
less, that the privilege of high
justice still attaches to this do
main, though long since unex
erted. Just what that justice
will be I have not decided—
enough, at present, that you are
prisoners awaiting sentence,
and since none wilr ever seek
you here, I can let events deter
mine when and where it will be
pronounced.”
And Dehra understood just
what was in his mind.
Which is another way of say
ing, cousin, that when you have
killed the archduke or made him
prisoner, it will be time enough
to pass judgment, on us.”
The duke gave his chuckling
laugh.
“Your highness has the wis
dom of a sage,” he said; “and I
advise you to employ it during
your sojourn here, in ascertain
ing just what attitude is likely to
be the best for yourself, after
the American has been—elimi
nated.”
And now the anger, which had
been burning hotter aud hotter,
burst into flame.
“Do you fancy, Ferdinand of
Lotzen,” she exclaimed, striking
a elurir with the flat of her
sword, “that I would venture
about into this den without first
having made ample provision for
[our safe return! Around this
|place, at this moment, stretchea
i a cordon of 3,000 soldiers with
orders to let no one pass tha
lines, and if by sunrise I have not
returned, to take this castle bj
assault and show no quarter.
Colonel Bernheim is in command.
I fancy you will admit that ho
will execute the orders.”
“I will,” said Lotzen.
“And if you doubt as to the
troops, you can send and-”
“I will admit the troops also,
cousin.”
The princess put the cloth
wrapped book under her arm
and stood up.
“Then, if you will clear the
doorway, we will depart.”
‘‘Not so fast, my dear,” he
smiled; ‘‘you seem to have
missed the fact that a written
command is quite as effective as
an oral one; therefore, you will
oblige me by taking of the paper
and ink on the desk beside you,
and inditing to Colonel Bemheim
an order to withdraw instantly .
all the troops to Porgia, and :
himself to join here—but first, \
you will favor me by returning
that bundle to the drawer where
you got it.”
The princess glanced uncer
tainly at Moore, hesitated, then
handed the bundle to him, and ;
turning to the desk wrote rapid
ly for a few minutes—read over
tlie sheet, and held it out to the
duke. j
lie took it with a bow, and
went back to his place. . . The
order was clear and unequivocal,
almost in his own words, indeed.
Her ready acquiescence had
tunaaed him—now doubt came,
and then suspicion—was he be
ing outwitted? Had she provid
ed for just such a contingency?
He read the order again—then
put it in its envelop and went to
ward the corridor door. He
would have to chance it.
“One moment, cousin,” said
the princess; “you may as well
know that the only effect of
that order, or any other, save
from my own lips, will be to
bring the assault forthwith, in
stead of at sunrise. It’s for you
to choose which it shall be.”
He turned and regarded her
contemplatively; and she spoke
again. i
“What is the profit now in re
straining us? You have been
playing for a crown—you have
lost;” (pointing to the book)
“but why lose your life, too—
though, frankly, as to that, save
for the nasty scandal, I have no
concern.”
His face hardened. “There
could be a few lives lost here
before sunrise,” he answered.
She smiled indifferently,
though her heart beat faster at
the treat; she had risked every
thing on her firm conviction that
his cool, calculating brain would
never be run away with by an
ger nor revenge—and the test
was now.
“Assuredly, my dear Ferdi
nand,” said she, “you can have
us killed—and then the sunrise.”
But he stared at her unrelent
ingly, and fear began to crowd
upon her fast.
“Have we lost?” she said very
low to Moore. “Have I brought
you all to death?”
“It depends on the next min
ute,” he replied; “if we live
through it we’re safe. He will
have quit peeing red then.”
And Madeline bpencer saw
that he was hesitating; swiftly
she went to him, and taking his
hand, spoke to him softly and
with insistent earnestness.
Gradually the frown faded;
the fell look passed; at last; he
smiled at her and nodded.
“We win,” said Moore.
The duke turned toward the
corridor door and gave an or
der; the men drew aside into
line, rifles at the present. Then
he bowed low to the princess.
“Since I know I may not do
the honor myself,” he said, “I
pray you will accept my con
stable as my substitute.—Cap
tain Durant, escort her royal
highness the regent to the main
gate.”
Durant stepped forward and
his blade flashed in salute.
Dehra acknowledged it with her
own, then snapped it back into
its sheath.
“Lead on, sir!” she said very .
graciously, and gave him her
hand.
Without so much as a glance
at the duke, she passed from
the room; and on the other side
of her went Colonel Moore,
sword in one hand, the cloth
wrapped book in the other.
tTo BeContinoed Next Week.)
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