“I don't know. Did they, Unc—Count Halfont? Did they confess? Great heavens, I never thought of that before.”
“What was there to confess?” asked the Count, taking Lorry's hand kindly. “They were caught in the act. My dear sir, they were not even tried.”
“I thought your police chief was such a shrewd man,” cried Lorry, angrily.
“What's that?” asked a gruff voice, and Baron Dangloss was a member of the party, red and panting.
“Don't you know you should not have killed those men?” demanded Lorry. They surveyed him in amazement, except Anguish, who had buried his face in his hands dejectedly.
“And, sir, I'd like to know why not?” blustered Dangloss.
“And, sir, I'd like to know, since you have shot the only beings on earth who knew the man that hired them, how in the name of your alleged justice you are going to apprehend him?” said Lorry, sinking back to his pillow, exhausted.
No reserve could hide the consternation, embarrassment and shame that overwhelmed a very worthy but very impetuous nobleman, Baron Jasto Dangloss, chief of police in Edelweiss. He could only sputter his excuses and withdraw, swearing to catch the arch-conspirator or to die in the attempt. Not a soul in the castle, not a being in all Graustark could offer the faintest clew to the identity of the man or explain his motive. No one knew a Michael, who might have been inadvertently addressed as “your” possible “Highness.” The greatest wonder reigned; vexation, uneasiness and perplexity existed everywhere.
Standing there with her head on her aunt's shoulder, her face grave and troubled, the Princess asked:
“Why should they seek to abduct me? Was it to imprison or to kill me? Oh, Aunt Yvonne, have I not been good to my people? God knows I have done all that I can. I could have done no more. Is it a conspiracy to force me from the throne? Who can be so cruel?”