"And what?" interjected Beverly, who could not wait.
"The description fits our friend Baldos perfectly!"
"You don't mean it?" exclaimed Lorry. "Then, he may be any one of the three you have mentioned?"
"Let me tell you what the grand duke's secretary says. I have the official notice, but left it in my desk. The runaway son of the grand duke is called Christobal. He is twenty-seven years of age, speaks English fluently, besides French and our own language. It seems that he attended an English college with Prince Dantan and some of our own young men who are still in England. Six weeks ago he disappeared from his father's home. At the same time a dozen wild and venturous retainers left the grand duchy. The party was seen in Vienna a week later, and the young duke boldly announced that he was off to the east to help his friend Dantan in the fight for his throne. Going on the theory that Baldos is this same Christobal, we have only to provide a reason for his preferring the wilds to the comforts of our cities. In the first place, he knows there is a large reward for his apprehension and he fears—our police. In the second place, he does not care to direct the attention of Prince Dantan's foes to himself. He missed Dantan in the hills and doubtless was lost for weeks. But the true reason for his flight is made plain in the story that was printed recently in Paris and Berlin newspapers. According to them, Christobal rebelled against his father's right to select a wife for him. The grand duke had chosen a noble and wealthy bride, and the son had selected a beautiful girl from the lower walks of life. Father and son quarreled and neither would give an inch. Christobal would not marry his father's choice, and the grand duke would not sanction his union with the fair plebeian."
Here Beverly exclaimed proudly, her face glowing: "He doesn't look like the sort of man who could be bullied into marrying anybody if he didn't want to."
"And he strikes me as the sort who would marry any one he set his heart upon having," added the princess, with a taunting glance at Miss Calhoun.
"Umph!" sniffed Beverly defiantly. The baron went on with his narrative, exhibiting signs of excitement.
"To lend color to the matter, Christobal's sweetheart, the daughter of a game-warden, was murdered the night before her lover fled. I know nothing of the circumstances attending the crime, but it is my understanding that Christobal is not suspected. It is possible that he is ignorant even now of the girl's fate."
"Well, by the gods, we have a goodly lot of heroes about us," exclaimed Lorry.
"But, after all," ventured the Countess Halfont, "Baldos may be none of these men."