"Oh yes; and he says he'll make me Queen of Spain—and he says he has a claim to the crown of France also, which he promises to share with me."
"Good heavens!" said Harry, in utter consternation; for Harry had not yet done more than vaguely suspect that "His Majesty" might be any other than what he claimed to be, and this design of his upon Katie seemed now a peril of no common magnitude.
"Why, Katie," he added, after a pause, "a royal personage can't marry a private person like you. It's illegal, you know."
"Oh, but the fun of it is he's only a common Irishman, and he drinks whiskey, and has an awful brogue. Oh, it's such fun to listen to him! But the greatest fun of all is, auntie believes in him. She thinks he is really Don Carlos; and, best of all, she thinks he is making love to her, and proposing to her."
"To her! Why, she has a husband already."
"Oh, but she thinks he has been killed."
"Killed? Good heavens! Is that really so? Poor old Russell! Oh, heavens! The villains! They'd do it, too."
And Harry thought of the bonds and the search after them. It seemed to him not at all unlikely that they had killed Russell so as to get at these, or perhaps to punish him for not giving them up. Horror now quite overwhelmed him. He felt even shocked at Katie's levity.
"But Mrs. Russell," he said; "how does she bear this horrible, calamity?"
"Bear it?" said Katie; "why, she wants to be Queen of Spain, and France too!"