The Princess Dehra

“I do.”

“And you are ready to restore it to the Regent?”

“No,” said she, “I’m not ready to restore it to the Regent; I’m ready to give it to you if I were able, but I’m not – it will be for you to recover it.”

“How do you know it is the Book of Laws – did the Duke tell you?”

She laughed her soft, sweet laugh. “Oh, no, he didn’t tell me – he has no idea that I know he has it; I saw it by accident – ”

“How could you recognize the Book?” he interrupted; “only three people in the Kingdom have ever seen it.”

“By intuition, mainly; and by the secrecy with which the Duke handles it – let me describe it: – a very old book; leather-covered, brass-bound and brass-hinged; the pages, of parchment – those in front illumined in colors with queer letters, and, further on, more modern writing – it is the Book, isn’t it, Armand?”

“Or Lotzen has described it to you,” he answered.

She made a gesture of discouragement.

“You are hard to convince,” she said – “you will have to be shown – will you take the trouble?”

The Archduke smiled. “Now we come to the kernel,” he remarked; “the rest was only the shell. Quite candidly, madame, I’m not inclined to play the spy in Ferida Palace; there are easier deaths to die, though doubtless none that would be more sure.”

“You didn’t used to be so timid or careful, Armand,” she mocked; “there are no dangers other than those of my boudoir – and if you fear them you may send a substitute – even one of your friend Courtney’s secret agents. – For the last few nights the Duke has been going over this Book page by page; his apartments are across a small court from mine, and his private cabinet is directly in view from my boudoir. Send some one there this evening at eleven, and with my field glass he can see everything the Duke does, and every article on his desk. Surely, that should be enough to satisfy the most suspicious.”

“Rather too much,” said he; “it brings us back to the question of motive: – why should you, who have had so much of my dear cousin’s money, and have enjoyed his kind and courteous hospitality for so long, suddenly turn against him, and betray him? – for believe me, madame, I take no stock in your pretty story of requiting injury, and coming all the way from Paris to help me find the Book.”

“But, my dear Archduke, what matters my motive, if you recover the Book – besides, now you can send the police this instant and search the Palace and seize the Book, if it’s there, and they can find it – doesn’t that in itself attest my honesty?”

“Not in the least. You know very well that I would not venture to take such drastic action against the Duke unless I were sure, not only that he had the Book, but that it would be found – hence it’s safe to tell this story. And as your motive – it all comes back to that – can’t be to assist me, it must be to assist the Duke; and so – ” he shrugged his shoulders.

It had never occurred to her that he would be so difficult to convince; she had thought that her bait, and particularly the privilege to send any one to verify it, and her description of the Book, would capture him instantly. But she had failed to appreciate how thoroughly Armand despised her, and how deeply he mistrusted her, and, more than all, how intensely repugnant it would be to accept a service from her, or to have any dealings with her except à outrance.

She bent forward and looked him in the eyes.

“Why might it not be to assist myself?” she asked – “to revenge myself, if you please, Armand.”

“Yes?” he said questioningly.

“Ferdinand of Lotzen and I have come to the parting place,” she said with quick bitterness – “the brute struck me yesterday; no man ever did so twice – and none ever once, that I didn’t punish promptly. I did come from Paris thinking I might aid you, for some how I was sure he had that book; he was glad enough to have me; and then he was so kind and liberal I – you won’t believe it I know, Armand, but it’s true – I couldn’t bring myself to betray him; nor should I, but for yesterday. Now I want revenge; and I can get it quickest and best through you. There, you have my true motive; and even you should not doubt it, for, God knows, a woman hates to confess that a man has struck her.”

She turned away and looked through the window, her fingers playing nervously on the sill; while the Archduke, doubtful, yet half convinced, glanced at Moore uncertainly.

Instantly the Colonel motioned to accept, and that he would go to the Ferida; and Armand smiled, and indicated that both would go – if any went; then he crossed to the great fireplace and stood before it, staring thoughtfully into the cinders. Suddenly he straightened his shoulders, and faced around – and Moore knew that the decision was made, and finally.

“Mrs. Spencer,” he said, “we will lay aside the questions of motive and personality: You, an individual, come to me, the Governor of Dornlitz, and offer information which, if true, will lead to the recovery of an article of great value, that belongs to the Government and has mysteriously disappeared. It is my duty, as Governor, to investigate the story, and I will do it, either in person or by subordinate. If the story be true, and the article in question be recovered by your aid, then you will be entitled to the proper thanks of the Government and a suitable recompense. – So much for that. But I also wish to assure you that Armand Dalberg, himself, declines your offer and your aid; and should your information result to his personal profit and advancement, it will be a life-long regret.”

She heard him without turning – and Moore thought he detected the faintest shiver at the end; and, in truth, the words and tone were enough to chill even a colder heart than hers.

But when she faced him, it was with one of the soft and caressing smiles she could use with such fatal fascination, and which made Moore catch his breath and stare, though it touched the Archduke not at all.

“I thank His Royal Highness, the Governor of Dornlitz,” she said, dropping him another curtsy, “for his consideration and trust, and the promised reward; the latter I decline… As for Armand Dalberg, I can assure him he will owe me no obligation: it will give me a life-long pleasure to be the means of causing him a life-long regret.”

The Archduke smiled indifferently.

“To that extent, then, I shall feel less obligated,” he replied. “Meanwhile, let us be seated, and receive madame’s instruction for to-night. I shall want the Book seen by more than one person – how many can you arrange to admit?”

“How many do you wish?”

“Three, possibly four.”

“You may bring half a dozen if you like,” she said, “though the fewer, the less chance of failure.”

“Very good – how is it to be managed?”

She drew off her gauntlets, and from one of them took a sheet of note paper – stamped with the Duke’s arms – on which she had sketched roughly so much of the Ferida and its grounds as entered into her plan. Spreading it out, she explained how they were to gain entrance to her apartments; and that there might be no mistake, she went over it again, cautioning them that it must be followed with the most careful precision. At the end, she gave the map to Moore.

“Of course, I shall not expect Your Highness to-night,” she said; “but I hope you will send Colonel Moore; it will be well to have some one who can, if necessary, use both head and sword – though I don’t anticipate the remotest difficulty in your – ”

A volley of cheers from without drowned her voice. It could only be the soldiers, and yet it was such an extraordinary thing, and with the Field-Marshal, himself, within sound, that the two men looked at each other in puzzled surprise; and when the noise not only continued but actually grew louder, the Archduke frowned and went to the window.

And what he saw made him frown still more, and he swore softly to himself, as a man does, sometimes, when unpleasantly surprised and obliged to think quickly, and to act on the thinking, with a heavy penalty awaiting a mistake.

Crossing the courtyard, with Hertz and Purkitz walking on either side, were the Regent of Valeria and Mlle. d’Essoldé. And even as Armand stood there, they were out of saddle and Dehra was running lightly up the steps.

“Send Scartman to us in the big room, if you please, Captain,” she called – then stopped, her eyes fixed on two horses standing a little way off – a Field-Marshal’s insignia on the saddle cloth of one and a Colonel’s of her Household on the other. So! so! and they were too busy with appointments at four to ride with them. She caught Mlle. d’Essoldé by the arm.

“Look, Elise!” she said, “look at those saddle cloths yonder.”

The Archduke followed her motion, and understood. It was a most infernally unfortunate contretemps, but it would have to be met, and at once.

“The Regent is on the porch,” he said. “I do not care for her to know of this meeting nor its purport, until after to-night. Madame, will you please be good enough to conceal yourself; the door is the only exit, and it is impossible now – I will try to prevent Her Highness entering here, but I may fail; I likely shall. Come, Moore,” and he hurried out.

But Madeline Spencer only laughed, and, winding the veil into place, went and stood by the chimney – here was a very god-given opportunity, and assuredly she had no notion to let it pass unused.

And the landlord, slumbering in the hall, had been tardily aroused by the cheering, and coming forth, still half asleep, he met the Princess just at the entrance.

“Scartman,” she said sharply, “where are His Highness and Colonel Moore?”

The landlord awoke with a suddenness that was painful, and which left him staring at her in silly-eyed speechlessness.

“What ails you, man?” she demanded – “tell the Archduke I’m here – we shall be in the large room.”

This brought back a bit of his senses, and he bowed to the ground, hoping to get back more of them before he need come up.

“I will find His Royal Highness at once,” he said; “I did not know he was here – I’ve been asleep – but if Your Majesty – Your Regency – Your Highness, I mean, will permit – the large room is occupied, I will – ”

At that moment, Armand and Moore came out.

“So it would seem,” the Princess remarked dryly.

“Don’t blame the poor fellow, Dehra,” the Archduke laughed; “he did the best he could, doubtless, and at my order. We are here on the business I spoke of this morning – it’s finished now, and we will ride back with you, if we may.”

Dehra held out her hand, and gave him the smile she knew he loved.

“Of course you may,” she said, “and gladly; but first I want a cup of tea – Scartman, the kettle instantly!” – and before Armand could detain her, she was past him and into the room.

As she crossed the threshold, she caught the faint perfume that a woman always carries, and which often-times is so individualized, as to betray her identity instantly. It was a peculiar odor – the blended fragrance of many flowers – and she recognized that she had known it before; – but what was it doing in this room, now! – it was too fresh to be many minutes old.

“Armand,” she said, “what woman has been here?” glancing laughingly around. – “And is here still!” and pointed with her crop to the veiled figure in the shadow near the chimney.

The Archduke ground back an oath, and stepping forward bowed to Madeline Spencer.

“Madame,” said he, “will you do the Governor of Dornlitz the favor to excuse him, and to accept his thanks for your service? Colonel Moore, madame’s horse.”

“Je vous remercie, Monsieur le Prince,” she murmured, taking Moore’s arm, and moving with sinuous grace toward the door. But as she passed the Princess Regent, who had stepped aside to give her way, the veil slipped from her face, and the two women looked into each other’s eyes – the one with a smile of mocking impertinence, the other with a calmly ignoring stare, and showing, by not so much as the quiver of a muscle, her anger and surprise.

And when they had gone, the Princess turned her gaze upon the Archduke, the blue eyes ominous in their steadiness; and as he would have spoken, she repelled him with an imperious gesture, and gave him her back.

“Come, Elise!” she said, and left the room.

In the courtyard, Colonel Moore had just swung Mrs. Spencer to saddle, and was fixing her skirt. Dehra paused in the entry until the black horse had passed the gate; then she went leisurely down the steps, waved Moore to Mlle. d’Essoldé, and let the groom put her up.

Acknowledging Moore’s farewell salute, with her crop, but no smile, and with never a glance toward the window, behind whose curtain she must have known the Archduke would surely be, she rode away – the Lancers again cheering her devotedly as she passed.

XVI
A TOO CONVINCING ARGUMENT

Colonel Moore went slowly up the steps and into the room, through the half open door of which he saw the Archduke standing, with chin on breast and back to the fireplace. He looked up, as the Adjutant paused at the threshold, and nodded for him to come in.

“Ordinarily it would be proper now for us to have a good, stiff drink, may be several of them,” he remarked, “but the only kind that fits this situation, so far as I’m concerned, is straight whisky, and I don’t believe this cursed place can supply it.”

“Quite right; it can’t,” said Moore; “I tried the other day – won’t anything else do?”

“No – nothing else; and it’s just as well I can’t get the whisky; I may need a clear head to night.”

“You are not going, sir!”

Armand nodded. “Going? of course I’m going – why not? and I only hope I’ll get a chance at my sweet cousin. We promised only to look – to raise no disturbance – and on Spencer’s account it is right enough that we should do nothing to betray her; but if Lotzen get in the way, Colonel, we are not obligated to avoid him.”

“Why should Your Highness walk deliberately into the tiger’s lair – when another can go quite as well, and without danger?” Moore protested.

The Archduke took a cigarette and tossed the case across to the Adjutant.

“Because I’m really hunting the tiger,” he laughed; “and I like excitement in good company – though I fear it will be a very tame affair.”

The other shook his head dubiously. “It’s not right, sir, for you to expose yourself so unnecessarily – let me go in command.”

“Nonsense, Ralph, you’re getting in Bernheim’s class; quit it. What I wish you would tell me is whether Spencer dropped her veil intentionally or by accident.”

“It seemed so accidental it must have been intentional,” said Moore.

“If I were sure of it, that would cancel a trifle more of my obligation.”

“Her Highness will know – ” the Colonel began, and stopped abashed at his blunder.

“And so will Mademoiselle d’Essoldé,” said Armand. “I may have to depend on you for information.”

“Then Your Highness will likely have to get it, yourself,” Moore laughed. “We’re not speaking either, it seems; she let me put her up, because the Regent sent me to her, but – I’m chilly yet. Did you ever notice, sir, how disconcerting it is to think you’re talking to a woman, and then find it’s a mistake and that really you’re talking only to yourself?”

The Archduke smiled. “Yes,” said he, “I’ve noticed it; and we may have a rather frigid atmosphere for a few moments this evening until I can explain – we are to dine with Her Highness and Mademoiselle.”

“If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll violate propriety and let you arrive first; your explanation will do for both – and besides, I fancy such things are best done à deux.”

“You fancy! – you innocent-Irishman-afraid-of-a-woman!” He drew on his gloves. “Come along – put on a brave front and I’ll take you home. Five minutes talk will set matters right.”

“If you’re not talking to yourself,” Moore observed.

The landlord was awaiting them in distress and trepidation almost pitiful. Such ill luck had not befallen the Inn in all its years of busy life. The Regent and the Governor! It was the end of his favor – the end of the Twisted Pines. To-morrow – may be to-day – would come the police, and the nails would go into the doors, and boards across the windows, and the big gates, that had always swung open at daybreak, would swing no more, and in disgrace and shame he and his would be turned out, with the curt admonition to seek a harbor in another land.

He almost dropped as the Archduke’s hand fell on his shoulder.

“Scartman,” said he kindly, yet incisively, “doubtless your mind is much too occupied to remember everything that happens here – but let me suggest that it would be well even to make a special effort to forget what has occurred this afternoon. I have known such forgetfulness to merit special reward.”

The landlord looked up in bewildered joy.

“But Her Highness, sir – she will not – ”

“Tush, man,” Armand interrupted, “I’ll answer for the Regent.”

The old man began to cry, and through his tears he groped for the Archduke’s hand and kissed the gauntlet fervently.

“God bless Your Highness!” he said – and was still repeating it when the latter passed the gate.

The Archduke rode slowly along the line of Lancers, scrutinizing every man as he went; then motioned the officers to him.

“Messieurs,” he said, “my compliments on your troop. – Captain Hertz, you may return to barracks.”

Hertz saluted, faced his men and raised his sword. And Armand, galloping down the road, turned in saddle and with his cap answered the wild cheer they sent after him.

“Purkitz,” said the Captain, before giving the order to break into column, “now is your opportunity to prove you can actually know something and not tell it.”

“And yours also, O wiser than serpents,” the Lieutenant laughed, “to prove you actually do know something that you tell.”

But the Archduke had not deemed it necessary to caution either of them; here, even the dullest witted soldier in the Army would have the sense to hold his tongue.

Where the road for the Summer Palace took off at the old forge, the Colonel left him, and Armand went on to the Capital. He rode these last few miles at a slow jog, and thoughtfully. It was well enough to treat the matter lightly to Moore, but, none the less, it troubled him. Dehra’s conduct had been so extraordinary for her – who had refused to credit, for an instant, Madeline Spencer’s claim to be his wife, though actually supported by a marriage certificate – that he was puzzled and all sorts of doubts and fears harassed him. It suggested some untoward influence; what he could not imagine, nor how, nor whence it had come; but, even then, everything would be very easy to explain, if she would give him the opportunity, and not, in the natural perversity of a woman, refuse to see him, and so make herself miserable, altogether needlessly. He had yet to learn that sometimes it is well to let a woman inadvertently discipline herself; it is more effective than if the man does it; and usually saves him a vast amount of recrimination. Then, too, he did not want Dehra to know of this intended night visit to the Ferida, where the natural prospect was duplicity and murder, and only Madeline Spencer’s worthless word to guarantee its safety. As it was now, if he explained at all, it would have to be down to the minutest detail, and he could foresee what the Regent would have to say about any such adventure on his part. Yet if the Ferida party went he must lead it – and the Ferida party was going.

So when he reached the Epsau, he was almost hoping to find a message from the Princess that he was not expected for dinner. But it was not there, nor had it come when he started for the Palace, though he waited until the very last moment.

He found Moore pacing the corridor, on watch for him, but with nothing to clear up the situation.

“And I’ve spent most of the time since I got back,” he ended, “in prancing up and down here, trying to get a glimpse of Mademoiselle, or some one, who might give me an inkling of the temperature inside – all on your account, sir, of course; I’m getting used to this freezing and thawing process.”

“Very good, Colonel, then we will go right in, and you can be thawing while I am explaining – come along, man, come along,” and taking him by the arm they went on down the corridor, and entered the Princess’ small reception room next her boudoir.

“Announce us,” said the Archduke to the footman, “but say to Her Highness that I would like a few minutes private speech with her – and to Mademoiselle d’Essoldé say that Colonel Moore has a message from me and awaits her here… I leave that message to your Irish wit,” he remarked, when the servant had gone.

But the man was very slow in returning, and presently Moore laughed.

“It’s getting chilly,” he observed – “notice it?”

The boudoir room swung open and Mlle. d’Essoldé came in.

“Can’t say I do,” said the Archduke aside, as he acknowledged her curtsy; “looks very charming to me.”

She gave the Archduke a smile, Moore a look of indifferent greeting, and then Armand another smile.

“My mistress receives Your Highness,” she said, holding back the door; and quite ignoring Moore’s effort, as he sprang forward to relieve her.

Under the chandelier, where sixty candles fluttered their mellow light about her, the Regent of Valeria was standing; but her eyes were on the red rose she was slowly pulling apart, nor did she lift them when Armand entered. Having come in a little way, slowly and with purposeful deliberation, he stopped, and leaning on his sword tarried for her to speak; and willing that she should not, for a while, that so, he might have this picture long enough to see it ever after – this white-robed, fair-headed daughter of the Dalbergs, waiting to pass judgment on her betrothed.

The last petal fell; she plucked another rose – a white one – from her corsage, and looked up.

“You may speak, sir,” she said, in voice an impersonal monotone.

The Archduke bowed.

“I have nothing to say,” he replied.

She raised her eye-brows in polite surprise.

“I thought you had requested ten minutes private speech with me.”

“I did,” said Armand, “but I withdraw the request; explanations are vain, when one has been already judged, and judged unheard.”

“One who is taken red-handed can have no explanation that explains,” said she.

Then, of a sudden, out flashed the adorable smile, and she laughed, and flung him the white rose.

“There, dear,” she said, “there, is your pardon – now, come,” and she held out both hands; “come and forgive me for this afternoon.”

And when he had forgiven her, she put him in a chair and perched herself on the arm beside him.

“Tell me, Armand,” she said, “are we never to be free of that awful woman? – where did she come from? – how did she happen to be at the Inn?”

“And how did I happen to be with her there, you want to know,” he laughed.

She nodded. “That more than all – yet I didn’t ask it.”

He took out the anonymous letter, which he had remembered to get from Courtney; and when she had read it, he tore it into bits.

“Will you have the explanation that explains now or during dinner?” he asked.

She sprang up.

“I forgot I was hungry! Come we will get Elise and Moore – that girl is a rare coquette; she makes my poor Adjutant’s life very miserable.”

“It looks like it!” said Armand opening the door just as Moore caught Mlle. d’Essoldé and kissed her, despite her struggles.

“I warned you, my lady,” he was saying, “you would tempt me too far some day … will you forgive me now, or shall I do it all over again?”

The Princess laughed. Moore’s arms dropped and he sprang back, while Mlle. d’Essoldé, flaming with embarrassment and anger, buried her face in her hands.

“Forgive him until after dinner, Elise,” said Dehra; “you can retract then, and resume the situation, if you wish.”

“O wise and beneficent ruler!” said Moore, bowing to the ground, “I agree to the compromise.”

Mlle. d’Essoldé looked at him in contemptuous scorn – though, in truth, she was more inclined to laugh; she never could be angry with her Irishman, for long.

“You savage,” she said, “you brutal savage; don’t ever speak to me again.”

He stepped forward and offered his arm, with all the suavity he knew so well.

“Never again after dinner, mademoiselle,” he said sadly; “meanwhile, the pleasure is mine.”

And to his surprise she took his arm; and when the others’ backs were turned, she looked up and smiled, the impudently provoking smile he had suffered under so long, and had at last punished.

“My compliments, Monsieur Ralph, on your adroit proficiency,” – and the tone and manner were as provoking as the smile – “it is quite unnecessary to refer to what it proves.”

“As much so, as to refer to what enables one to recognize proficiency,” he agreed.

“And if all the men I know are like you, sir – ”

He bent down.

“Now that is an inference I’m curious to hear.”

“Do you want them to be like you?” she asked, eyes half closed and glances sidelong – “because, if you do, it would be rather easy to oblige you – and may be not unpleasant – and I can begin with His Highness of Lotzen – truly it’s a pity, now, I ruined my frock so needlessly this morning, in the japonica walk;” and giving him no time for reply, she dropped his arm and glided quickly into the chair the bewigged and powdered footman was holding for her.

No mention of the Twisted Pines was made until the coffee was being served; then the Princess motioned for the liqueur also to be put on the table, and dismissed the servants.

Drawing out her case, and lighting a Nestor, she smiled at the Archduke, and at his nod passed the cigarette across; – and when Colonel Moore looked inquiringly at Mlle. d’Essoldé, she shrugged her pretty shoulders and gave him hers.

“You know what it implies, Elise,” Dehra remarked. – “No? – then ask Colonel Moore to tell you sometime – now, we’re to hear the explanation that explains – the Tale of the Veiled Lady of the Inn,” and she looked at Armand…

When he had finished, the Princess offered no comment, but frowned and played with her cigarette; and the Archduke, ever glad for any excuse to look at her, and very ready to be silent the better to look, watched her in undisguised devotion.

“What’s the plot behind it?” she demanded, suddenly; “I can’t make it out – it’s absurd to fancy that woman honest, though I’m perfectly sure Lotzen has the Book. But why – why should he want to show it to us? Not out of love nor friendship, surely; nor bravado, either; our dear cousin isn’t given to any such weakness. So it must be simply a rather clumsy attempt to lure you to the Ferida for slaughter – and that, again, seems unlikely; for Ferdinand isn’t clumsy, nor would he want you murdered in his Palace; and as to the provision that you need not go – or that you may take a dozen with you if you wish – and if you don’t go, that she preferred Colonel Moore, or some one with brains and a sword – all that, I say, is too amazingly inconsistent with anything except entire honesty for my poor brain to solve.”

“Don’t try, my dear,” the Archduke laughed. “We will give you the solution to-morrow.”

She laid aside her cigarette, and, folding her arms on the table, surveyed him in displeased surprise.

“Surely, Armand, you don’t mean that you are going?” she asked.

He nodded, smilingly.

“Why not?” he asked – “the Colonel and I, with a few good blades, and the Veiled Lady’s promise to protect us.”

“But it’s absurd, perfectly absurd, for you to take such risk. At the best, you are obligated only to look, to make no attempt to-night to recover the Book; and at the worst you can only fight your way out of the trap. In the one case, Colonel Moore can do the looking as well as you – in the other, their plot to kill you will have failed and your substitutes will be given some excuse by Spencer and let go in peace – oh, it’s worse than absurd for you to go, Armand,” – she saw from his expression that her argument was futile – “and you know it, too; and you’re going only because you like the excitement, and to show Lotzen, like a big boy, you’re not to be dared.”

The Archduke laughed at her indulgently.

“May be I am, little girl,” he said; “but I’ve made up my mind to fight this business out myself, and that sends me to the Ferida to-night. I’ll take every precaution – ”

“Except the proper one of staying away,” she interrupted. “You’re struggling for a Crown, man, and mad rashness has no place in the game. Play it like Lotzen, in the modern way, not like the Middle Ages – he uses its methods, true enough, but lets others execute his plans and face the perils.” – She put out her hand to him. – “Come, dear, be reasonable,” she begged; “be kind; even the wildest idea of leadership does not obligate you to go.”

He took her hand and held it, with the firm, soft pressure of abiding affection, looking the while into her fair face, flushed now with the impetuous earnestness of her fear for him.

“I think it does, Dehra,” he said gravely. “It is our duty to the country to find the Laws and settle the Succession at the quickest possible moment – ”

“Yes, it is, but – ”

“And there are but three in the Kingdom who have ever seen the Book, you and Lotzen and myself; and there must be no question as to its absolute identification, before you as Regent resort to force to recover it – force that may necessitate the taking of the Ferida by assault. Therefore, dear, I must go, for I must see the Book. Assume, just for illustration, that Colonel Moore brings a description that seems to correspond to the Laws; you, as Regent, formally accuse the Duke of Lotzen of having the Book and demand its instant surrender; and upon his indignant denial that he has it, and his offered readiness to have his Palace searched, you order me, as Governor of Dornlitz, to have my rival’s residence invaded and subjected to the ignominy of a mandat de perquisition; or, again, he may deny the Book without demanding a search, and submit to it only under protest; or he may refuse to permit the search and oppose it by force. And whichever the case may be, the Book will not be found – he will take very careful precaution, as to that, you may be sure. And what will my position be then, with the House of Nobles? – when our only explanation, for such fruitless insult, is that some one saw a book, which he described to us, and which we thought was the Laws. Indeed, though it hadn’t occurred to me before, it may be just such a condition that he is playing for – ”