She sprang up. “Why not settle it at once—let us send for the Book; of course it is at the Palace—it was there last night.”
He shook his head decisively. “No, dear, no; believe me it is not wise now for either of us to touch the Book. It were best that it be opened only by the Prime Minister in presence of the Royal Council. We must give Lotzen no reason to cry forgery.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Small good would it do him, as against Frederick’s writing and my testimony. However, we can wait—the Council meets in the morning, I assume?”
“Yes; at ten o’clock, at the Palace.”
She looked up quickly. “The key?” she asked; “it was always on his watch chain—have you got it?”
“No,” said he; “I never thought of it.”
She rang the bell and sent for the Chamberlain.
“Bring me King Frederick’s watch, and the Orders he was wearing,” she said. When they came she handed the Orders to Armand.
“They are yours now, dear,” she said. She took the watch and held up the chain, from the end of which hung the small, antique key of the brass bound box, in which the Book of Laws had been kept for centuries that now reached back to tradition. She contemplated, for a moment, the swaying bit of gold and bronze, then loosed it from the ring.
“This also is yours, Sire,” she said, and proffered it to him.