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 today, 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
