Already the Chancellor had marshalled his array of facts in their proper order, and now he lost no time in seizing the opening offered, lest—before all he had to say was said—the narrow way should close again.
"When I heard of Your Majesty's growing admiration for the lady who was fortunate enough to save your life," he began, "I looked for her 232 name and her mother's in a book which the English nation values next to the Bible. It is called 'Burke's Peerage'. There I found the name of Lady de Courcy, widow of a certain Sir Thomas, Baron; mother of a son, still a child, and of one living daughter, much older, a young woman with many names and twenty-eight years."
The Emperor, who had been frowning into space, turned a quick look of surprise on his Chancellor. Beginning to speak, he changed his mind, and bit his lip instead.
For a second the Chancellor paused, hoping for the lead which he had expected here; but finding that it did not come, he went on——
"I had seen the ladies at Your Majesty's birthday ball and it seemed to me impossible that the younger could have reached so mature an age. Besides, she herself confessed to but twenty-one. This, perhaps, was not unusual, yet it set me thinking. The De Courcys, I learned by a little further reading in Burke, were distantly connected with the family of Eltzburg-Neuwald, which struck me, in the circumstances, as 233 an odd coincidence. A Miss de Courcy became the Duke of Northminster's wife; and to her was born a daughter who eventually married the late Grand Duke of Eltzburg-Neuwald, father of Princess Sylvia and the present Crown Prince of Abruzzia. Acting as I felt my duty to Your Majesty and Rhaetia bade me act, I at once telegraphed to Friedrich, and also to Baron von Mienigen, Your Majesty's Ambassador to England."
"What did you telegraph?" asked the Emperor, with ominous calm.
"Nothing compromising to Your Majesty or to the lady; I trust you feel confident of that. I inquired of Friedrich if he had English relatives named De Courcy—a mother and daughter—travelling in Rhaetia; and begged that, if so, he would describe them, wiring an answer to me at Markstein. To Von Mienigen I said that all possible particulars regarding the widow of Sir Thomas de Courcy and her daughter, with an account of their present movements, would place me under personal obligations, and that I hoped for a speedy reply by telegraph. These 234 messages I sent off late in the afternoon of the day before yesterday. Last night I received the answers, within two or three hours of one another. They are now here" (he tapped the breast of his coat); "have I Your Majesty's permission to show them?"
"I will read what your friends have to say if you wish," returned Maximilian coldly. His face told nothing; but the Chancellor looked down to hide the flicker of hope under his eyelids. With a slight tremor in the big, blunt fingers, he unbuttoned his coat and drew out a handsome coroneted pocket-book, given him by Maximilian. The gift had been made on the old man's sixty-fourth birthday, almost a year ago; and the sight of it now produced a certain effect, as, perhaps, "Iron Heart" was quietly aware.
From the pocket-book came two folded papers; and, with a bow, the Chancellor placed them in his Imperial master's hands.
The first that Maximilian opened was a telegram in Italian from the Crown Prince of Abruzzia.