“There isn’t any danger, you said—and if there were, the Regent of Valeria will be the best sort of protector for you.”
“But you will have to—go into Madeline Spencer’s apartments—may be remain there half the night,” he protested.
“And much more seemly for me than for you, my dear, and much less—tempting.”
He joined in her laugh, but shook his head and turned to Moore.
“Colonel, will you oblige me by telephoning Mrs. Spencer we shall not be there to-night; word it any way you wish.”
“Colonel Moore,” said the Princess sharply, “you will do nothing of the sort. The Regent of Valeria requires the attendance of the Governor of Dornlitz and yourself to the Ferida Palace this night—and in the interval, you both will hold yourselves here in readiness.”
Armand would have protested again, but she cut him short with a peremptory gesture.
“It is settled,” she said; then added, almost vehemently: “surely, you can’t think I want to see that awful woman!—but it’s the only sure way to block Lotzen’s game. The Nobles will take my word as to the Book—and so will the Army, and the people, too. No, I must go.”
XVII
INTO THE TIGER’S CAGE
They had gone into the library for a rubber of bridge, until it was time to start for the Ferida. Now there came a chime from the mantel, and Dehra glanced at the old French clock that her Bourbon ancestress had brought with her—among wagon loads of clothes and furniture—when she came to be wife to Henry the Third.