Count Visichich was speaking slowly again, watching Maria Lalena. “You said something about the Black Ghost a few moments ago—per’aps I can clear up something for you if you will tell me what it is?”
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Yolanda said, icily. “Her Majesty is very tired. She has had a great shock. She should rest. Come, my dear.”
“No,” Maria Lalena said, nervously, “I don’t want to rest.”
Count Visichich said thoughtfully, “I was talking to Prince Conrad when you so kindly sent for me. Perhaps Your Majesty would wish to allow ’im to explain any matter that may be troubling you?”
“Yes,” Maria Lalena agreed, a little doubtfully. Yolanda looked resigned. She touched the bell again. If she had been French or American she would have shrugged her shoulders. The same servant appeared to receive the order. Maria Lalena spoke to him first, and then Yolanda beckoned him to her, and gave him a further whispered instruction. He presently returned to usher in Prince Conrad, who bowed almost reverently to the two Queens, his tall figure quite graceful, his face serious but a little quizzical, his eyes very black under straight brows. We rose formally. I balanced uncomfortably on my one shoe. Yolanda bowed, and motioned him to another high-backed red damask chair, like that on which she throned herself. Then she nodded to Count Visichich and to us, and we all sat down again, neatly and a little absurdly, like a row of dolls in a toy shop. If we were going to have exposures that might shake dynasties we were to have them, at least, with the most polite formalities.
“This is a very important conference,” Maria Lalena said in words. The tone of her voice said, “I wish I were a long way out of all this, and had someone’s shoulder to cry on, but I’ve got to do something. Anything is better than just letting things drift.”
“So I judged,” said Prince Conrad, looking at us, pointedly.
“These gentlemen,” Maria Lalena continued, “are a cousin of—of Countess von Waldek’s and a friend of his. They know a great many things.”
“They are lucky to know,” he answered, gently. “There are so many things that I only suspect.”
She flushed, and looked quite miserable for a moment, but his smile was amused, candid, tolerant, absolutely without rancor; she took a little courage from it, and went on, “something should be done. The Black Ghost and his band imprisoned these gentlemen, and are now holding my very dear—my very dear Countess von Waldek up in the mountains in a castle, or whatever it is. I beg you, dear Prince, to organise a rescue expedition to put an end to his disgraceful banditry.”