And who was this man Beauvais, who served one house openly and another under the rose? Where had he met him before, and why did the thought of him cause unrest? To rescue her somehow, to win her love, to see the glory of the world light the heavens in her eyes! If the dream was mad, it was no less pleasant.
He was a commoner; he had nothing in the world but his brain and his arm.Fitzgerald, now, possessed a famous title and an ancient name.These kings and princes hereabout could boast of but little more than he; and there were millions to back him.He could dream of princesses and still be sane.Maurice did not envy the Englishman's riches, but he coveted his right of way.
How often had he indulged in vain but pleasant dreams! Even in the old days he was always succoring some proud beauty in distress.Sometimes it was at sea, sometimes in railroad wrecks, sometimes in the heart of flames; but he was ever there, like a guardian angel.It was never the same heroine, but that did not matter; she was always beautiful and rich, high placed and lovable, and he never failed to brush aside all obstacles that beset the path to the church door.He had dreamed of paladins, and here at last was his long-sought opportunity--but he could do nothing! He laughed.How many such romances lay beneath the banter and jest of those bald bachelor diplomat friends of his?
Had fate reserved him for one of these?
It was noon when he entered the city of Bleiberg.He went directly to his hotel, where a bath and a change of clothes took the stiffness from his limbs.He was in no great hurry to go to the Grand Hotel; there was plenty of time.Happily there was no mail for him; he was not needed in Vienna.
At two o'clock he set out for the lower town.On the way he picked up odd ends of news.The king was rapidly sinking; he had suffered another stroke, and was now without voice.There was unusual activity in the barracks.The students of the university were committing mild depredations, such as building bonfires, holding flambeau processions, and breaking windows which contained the photographs of Prince Frederick of Carnavia, who, strangely enough, was still wrapt in obscurity.When Maurice entered the Grand Hotel he looked casually among the porters, but the round-faced one was missing.He approached the desk.The proprietor did not recognize him.
"No, my friend," said Maurice, affably, as a visitors' book was pushed forward, "I am not going to sign.Instead, I wish to ask a favor.A week ago a party of the king's troopers met upstairs."The proprietor showed signs of returning memory, together with a strange agitation.
"There was a slight disturbance," went on Maurice, still using the affable tone."Herr--ah-- Hamilton, I believe--"The proprietor grew limp and yellow."I--I do not know where he is.""I do," replied Maurice."Don't you recognize me? Have I changed so since I came here to doctor a sprained ankle?""You?--Before God, Herr, I was helpless; I had nothing to do with it!" terrified at the peculiar smile of the victim.
"The key to this gentleman's room," was the demand.
"I--"
"The key, and be quick about it."
The key came forth."You will say nothing, Herr; it would ruin my business.It was a police affair.""Has any one been in this room since?"
"No, Herr; the key has been in my pocket.""Where is the porter who brought me here?""He was not a porter; he was with the police."Maurice passed up the stairs.He found the room in disorder, but a disorder rather familiar to his eyes.He had been the cause of most of it.Here was where he broke the baron's arm and thumped three others on the head.It had been a good fight.Here was a hole in the wall where one of the empty revolvers had gone--missing the Colonel's head by an inch.
There was a smudge on the carpet made by the falling candles.He saw Fitzgerald's pipe and picked it up.No; the chamber maid had not yet been there.He went over to the bed, stared at it and shrugged.He raised the mattress.There was the gun case.He drew it forth and took out the gun, not, however, without a twist of his nerves.
Four millions of crowns, a woman's love, the fall of one dynasty and the rise of another, all wadded in those innocent looking gun barrels! He hesitated for a space, then unlocked the breech and held the tubes toward the window.There was nothing in the barrels, nothing but the golden sunlight, which glinted along the polished steel.
