“Oh, no, dear; you’re only nervous,” he answered—though he was satisfied she was right. “Keep your hat well down, and don’t look at her; the moment you have identified the Book, we will leave; you go with Moore; I’ll engage the vixen until you’re out of range.”
He had led her to a window and raised the shade. The lights from the Duke’s library leaped across the garden court at them, but he, himself, was not visible, though on the table lay the package, still wrapped in black as when taken from the safe. Some one came behind them, and Armand glanced over his shoulder—it was Mrs. Spencer, and she was looking at the Princess; nor did she cease, though she knew his eyes were on her; instead, she smiled and shot him a quick glance, and resumed the looking. He felt Dehra begin to tremble—whether with anger or nerves, he could not tell—and Mrs. Spencer spoke.
“Your Highness’ companion is evidently unused to adventures, despite his uniform; he is actually twitching with excitement.”
“Or with the temptation of your proximity,” Armand replied giving her his back. And Dehra laughed softly.
Colonel Moore had been at another window; now he came over, and, in the most casual way, found Mrs. Spencer’s hand and gave it a familiar squeeze.
“You’re pretty enough to-night to give even an old-stager like me a flutter,” he whispered in his most caressing tones, and, in the darkness, slipped his arm around her waist.
She pushed it away, though not very vigorously it seemed to him.
“You are impertinent, sir,” she said.
“I meant to be; it’s the only way to get on with you,” and he deliberately put his arm around her again, and rather more tightly. “Come along to my window,” he urged.
She knew very well that his purpose was to divert her from the Princess, but she went—nor appeared to bother that his arm remained. Here, was a new sort of man, with a new sort of method, and she was, if the truth be told, very willing for them both. Besides, her time would come presently.