“Not in the least. You know very well that I would not venture to take such drastic action against the Duke unless I were sure, not only that he had the Book, but that it would be found—hence it’s safe to tell this story. And as your motive—it all comes back to that—can’t be to assist me, it must be to assist the Duke; and so—” he shrugged his shoulders.
It had never occurred to her that he would be so difficult to convince; she had thought that her bait, and particularly the privilege to send any one to verify it, and her description of the Book, would capture him instantly. But she had failed to appreciate how thoroughly Armand despised her, and how deeply he mistrusted her, and, more than all, how intensely repugnant it would be to accept a service from her, or to have any dealings with her except à outrance.
She bent forward and looked him in the eyes.
“Why might it not be to assist myself?” she asked—“to revenge myself, if you please, Armand.”
“Yes?” he said questioningly.
“Ferdinand of Lotzen and I have come to the parting place,” she said with quick bitterness—“the brute struck me yesterday; no man ever did so twice—and none ever once, that I didn’t punish promptly. I did come from Paris thinking I might aid you, for some how I was sure he had that book; he was glad enough to have me; and then he was so kind and liberal I—you won’t believe it I know, Armand, but it’s true—I couldn’t bring myself to betray him; nor should I, but for yesterday. Now I want revenge; and I can get it quickest and best through you. There, you have my true motive; and even you should not doubt it, for, God knows, a woman hates to confess that a man has struck her.”
She turned away and looked through the window, her fingers playing nervously on the sill; while the Archduke, doubtful, yet half convinced, glanced at Moore uncertainly.
Instantly the Colonel motioned to accept, and that he would go to the Ferida; and Armand smiled, and indicated that both would go—if any went; then he crossed to the great fireplace and stood before it, staring thoughtfully into the cinders. Suddenly he straightened his shoulders, and faced around—and Moore knew that the decision was made, and finally.
“Mrs. Spencer,” he said, “we will lay aside the questions of motive and personality: You, an individual, come to me, the Governor of Dornlitz, and offer information which, if true, will lead to the recovery of an article of great value, that belongs to the Government and has mysteriously disappeared. It is my duty, as Governor, to investigate the story, and I will do it, either in person or by subordinate. If the story be true, and the article in question be recovered by your aid, then you will be entitled to the proper thanks of the Government and a suitable recompense.—So much for that. But I also wish to assure you that Armand Dalberg, himself, declines your offer and your aid; and should your information result to his personal profit and advancement, it will be a life-long regret.”
She heard him without turning—and Moore thought he detected the faintest shiver at the end; and, in truth, the words and tone were enough to chill even a colder heart than hers.