She laughed scoffingly, and taking a cigarette lighted it.
“As a token of peace,” she said softly, and proffered it to him.... “No?—I thought Ferdinand said he had learned it from you and—but, of course, it does make a difference whose are the lips that kissed it.”
The Archduke turned abruptly and went toward the door; another such word and he might forget she was a woman. She might be able to show him the Book, but, even could she give it to him, he would not have it, if its price were the Princess on her tongue.
She saw she had gone too far.
“Armand!” she cried, “Armand! stay—I’ll be good—I’ll be good.”—She sprang forward and caught his arm—“Don’t go—think of what I can show you.”
“Then show it, madame,” he answered, facing her and so displacing her hand; “show it; and leave off personalities.”
Without replying, she went to a window, and drew the shade aside a little way.
“Yes, he is there,” she said, “but Bigler is with him ... ah! he is going—now, we shan’t have long to wait.”—She motioned the Archduke to her. “See—there shouldn’t be any doubt of the identification, if he give you a chance to see it.”
He went over and looked. She was right; nor would they need the field glass to recognize it. Fifty yards away, in the opposite wing, were Lotzen’s apartments—his library windows raised, the shades high up, the curtains drawn back; and he, himself, at the big table under the chandelier, a twin drop-light focused on the writing pad.
And even while the Archduke looked, Lotzen arose and from the safe behind him took out a package wrapped in black.