Madame saw the look, and said, “Corporal!”
There was a noise on the other side of the wall, and presently a head bobbed up.
“Madame?” inquired the head.
“Nothing. I wished to know if you were at your post.” She turned to Maurice, who was puzzled to know what all this was preamble to. “Monsieur Carewe, I never forget details. I had an idea that when I submitted my proposals to you, you might be tempted to break your parole.”
Maurice gnawed his lip. “Proceed, Madame.”
“There are only two. If you do not promise here and now in no way to interfere with my plans, these troopers will convey you to Brunnstadt, where you will be kept in confinement until the succession to the throne is decided one way or the other. The other proposal is, if you promise—and I have faith in your word—the situation will continue the same as at present. Choose, Monsieur. Which is it to be?”
The devil gleamed in his eyes. He remained silent.
“Well! Well!” impatiently.
“I accept the alternative,” with bad grace. “If I made a dash—”
“You would be shot; those were my orders.”