Unseen, he was also unseeing; yet hearing, he had little need for eyes—it was easy to picture all that occurred:—Dehra’s pointing out the positions of the King, the Laws and the box; the entry of Adolph; the opening of the vault; the valet’s return with the box; his dismissal; the locking again of the vault. But what then happened always puzzled the Duke—that it was something unexpected was proved by the sudden silence, and pause, before either of them moved, followed at once by the closing of the corridor door.
He waited a moment, until he was sure they had gone, then went to the desk. What had disturbed the American and the Princess—why had their talk ceased so abruptly—why did they wait, unmoving, and then go out together and still unspeaking?... Had they seen him?... Impossible; even the window did not show through the tapestry; and he had been against the wall.... His gloves—had he let them lie somewhere?... no, they were drawn through his sword belt.... He studied the desk top—the floor—the chairs.... They told him nothing;... and, yet, it was very queer.... Had any part of him been exposed beyond the curtain? He went back and got behind it ... it completely covered him—and as he stood there the cabinet door opened and Adolph came in softly.
He glanced around quickly, then went straight to the vault and began to turn the knob, while the Duke, one eye just beyond the curtain’s edge, watched him curiously. Could it be that this servant was familiar with the combination of the lock, that only the King and Dehra were supposed to know! If so ... the bolts shot back, the door opened, and the valet disappeared in the vault. In a moment he came out with the box; but Lotzen did not see him, having drawn behind the curtain; nor did he venture again to look out except when assured that Adolph’s back was toward him.
Placing the box on the desk, the valet laid back the lid and with another furtive look around, went swiftly across to the wall, where hung the big, life-sized portrait of the King, the escutcheon, on the top of the heavy gold frame, almost against the ceiling. Under it was a tall, straight-backed chair, with high arms; and, mounting on them, Adolph reached behind the picture and, from the space between it and the wall, drew out an ancient book, leather-bound and metal-hinged:—the Laws of the Dalbergs.
With a faint chuckle, he sprang down and started toward the box; then stopped—the Book slipped from his fingers—he gasped—his eyes widened in terrified amazement—his face took on the gray pallor of awful fear; for the Duke of Lotzen had emerged from behind the window curtain and was coming slowly toward him.
“You seem startled, Adolph,” said the Duke, with an amused smile, “doubtless you thought you were alone.” He sat down in the revolving chair. “May I trouble you to give me the Book—the floor is hardly the place for the Laws of the Dalbergs.”
The valet’s composure had returned, in a measure, at the tone of the other’s voice, but his hand still trembled as he picked up the Book and carried it to the desk.
“Thank you, Adolph,” said Lotzen, “thank you ... you seem a trifle shaky, sit down and rest” (indicating a chair near by). “I shall need you presently.”
He watched the man until he had obeyed, then opened the Laws and turned quickly to the last decree.
Across the page lay a fresh, white blotter, used but twice, he noticed, as he turned it over. He had come for this very bit of paper, that Dehra had casually mentioned in her story to the Council—hoping vaguely that the King had let it lie, and that it had not been destroyed by the servants who cared for the desk. He would have been amply satisfied with the faint chance it might give him of guessing the decree from the few words the mirror would disclose. But, now, he had no need for guesses nor mirrors; and with a light laugh he laid the blotter aside. Surely, the Goddess of Fortune was with him! And to Ferdinand of Lotzen this meant much; for to him there was only one other Divinity, and that other was a female, too.