“No.”
“And the Archduke, what of him?” he asked.
“The Archduke stays here, serenely ignorant of it all.”
“He will never forgive me——”
She cut him short. “Very well, monsieur, you are excused—be so good as to send Colonel Bernheim to me at once—and I trust to your honor not to mention the affair to any one.”
He had done all he dared; more, indeed, than he had fancied she would tolerate. A subordinate may not argue for long with the Regent of a Kingdom, however sweet-tempered she may be.
“Your Highness misunderstands,” he said; “if you are determined to go, there is an end of the matter; naturally, your Adjutant goes also.”
She smiled. “Now, that is better—and I’m glad—and we will take De Coursey and Marsov, and slip away at midnight, with old Jessac for guide. The secret passage opens into the Duke’s library, we get the Book and retire.”
“Vault and all?” Moore asked.
“You don’t remember the draft, Colonel, there isn’t a vault.”