"Have not the remotest idea where Lady de Courcy and her daughter are 235 living; may be in Rhaetia or at the South Pole," it was worded with characteristic flippancy. "Have not seen either since a visit paid to England eight years ago, then only once. Lady de Courcy is a tall old party of the dragon order, with a nose like a rocking-horse. My cousin Mary is dark, and takes after her mother. Is Otto to be the happy man?—FRIEDRICH."
With absolutely expressionless features, Maximilian tossed the paper on to the seat by his side and unfolded the other.
"Pardon delay," the Rhaetian Ambassador to Great Britain began his message. "Have been obliged to make inquiries. Lady de Courcy is the widow of Baron de Courcy, who died ten years ago, leaving one son and a daughter. The lady is not rich, and in her son's minority lets her town and country houses, living mostly abroad. She is at present in Calcutta, India, where her daughter, Miss Mary de Courcy, is engaged to marry a Judge Morley, a man of some distinction. Kindly let me hear if there are other particulars you desire to know, and I will 236 endeavour to obtain them.—MIENIGEN."
"Well!" the Emperor threw aside the telegram, and laughed. Rather a forced laugh, perhaps, but still it was a laugh. "Is it possible that so wise a man of the world as yourself, Chancellor, dares to call two ladies adventuresses on such slight grounds as these; or have you more cards up your sleeve?"
Von Markstein breathed quickly. He had counted on the Emperor's former strict regard for Court etiquette, the well-known sternness of his principle; and he had not prepared himself for such an answer. But then, he had yet to make the acquaintance of Maximilian as a man in love.
He hesitated for a reply. In truth, he had founded his theory on this basis, and he still considered it amply sufficient to satisfy any one save a madman. But if Maximilian were mad, he must be treated accordingly; therefore the Chancellor condescended to "bluff."
"It is not yet time to play the trumps which I keep in my sleeve, Your Majesty," he said, as firmly as if he had not been conscious of his sleeve's emptiness. "But I am sure, when you have thought the matter 237 over—perhaps deigned to talk it over with me—you will see that the cards I have laid before you are all-sufficing. The ladies styling themselves De Courcy have come to Rhaetia under false colours. They have either deceived Lady West, or they have forged the letters of introduction purporting to be from her."
"Why didn't you telegraph Lady West, while your hand was in, my friend?" asked Maximilian, feigning indifference to the answer.
"I did, Your Majesty, since you ask the question. At least, not knowing the address which would find her soonest, I wired a friend of hers, an acquaintance of my own, begging him to speak with Lady West, not mentioning my name in the matter. But as yet I have received no response to that telegram."
"Until you do, I should think that even an old cynic like yourself, Chancellor, might have given two defenseless, inoffensive ladies the benefit of the doubt."