“It depends on the next minute,” he replied; “if we live through it we’re safe. He will have quit seeing red then.”
And Madeline Spencer saw that he was hesitating; swiftly she went to him, and taking his hand, spoke to him softly and with insistent earnestness.
Gradually the frown faded; the fell look passed; at last, he smiled at her and nodded.
“We win,” said Moore.
The Duke turned toward the corridor door and gave an order; the men drew aside into line, rifles at the present. Then he bowed low to the Princess.
“Since I know I may not do the honor myself,” he said, “I pray you will accept my Constable as my substitute.—Captain Durant, escort Her Royal Highness the Regent to the main gate.”
Durant stepped forward and his blade flashed in salute. Dehra acknowledged it with her own, then snapped it back into its sheath.
“Lead on, sir!” she said very graciously, and gave him her hand.
Without so much as a glance at the Duke, she passed from the room; and on the other side of her went Colonel Moore, sword in one hand, the cloth-wrapped book in the other.
When they had gone, Lotzen dismissed every one with a nod, and sitting down drew Madeline Spencer on his knee.