“But the decree—the decree!” she exclaimed, again stepping back.
“The Laws have disappeared,” he said, “the box is empty and the Book cannot be found.”
In bewildered amazement she let him lead her to a chair, and listened, frowning and impatient, to his story. Only once did she interrupt—when he mentioned the Duke’s unexpected entrance—then she struck her hand sharply on the table at her side. “Lotzen! Oh, Lotzen!” she cried, and with such threatening vehemence that Armand looked at her in sudden wonder.
At the end, she sprang up.
“Come!” she commanded. “Come; take me to the Council—I can at least assure they won’t make Lotzen king,” and seizing his hand she made for the door.
He slipped his arm around her waist and detained her.
“Are you sure, Dehra, you ought to mix in this unfortunate squabble?” he asked. “Is it——”
She turned upon him sharply. “Squabble! Do you call a contest for Valeria’s Throne a squabble?”—then suddenly she smiled—that sweet, adorable smile she ever had for him. “Be very careful, sir, or I shall tumble both you and Lotzen aside, and take the Throne myself.... Now, will you escort me!”
He looked at her thoughtfully, then smiled and patted her cheek.
“Come, Your Majesty,” he said; “come, and claim your Crown; it’s yours by right, and I shall be the first to swear allegiance.”