‘No,’ she returned; ‘I mean to keep it. It is I who must prepare the stroke; you cannot manage it without me; and to do my best I must possess the paper. Where shall I find Gordon? In his rooms?’ She spoke with a rather feverish self-possession.
‘Anna,’ he said sternly, the black, bilious countenance of his palace rôle taking the place of the more open favour of his hours at home, ‘I ask you for that paper. Once, twice, and thrice.’
‘Heinrich,’ she returned, looking him in the face, ‘take care. I will put up with no dictation.’
Both looked dangerous; and the silence lasted for a measurable interval of time. Then she made haste to have the first word; and with a laugh that rang clear and honest, ‘Do not be a child,’ she said. ‘I wonder at you. If your assurances are true, you can have no reason to mistrust me, nor I to play you false. The difficulty is to get the Prince out of the palace without scandal. His valets are devoted; his chamberlain a slave; and yet one cry might ruin all.’
‘They must be overpowered,’ he said, following her to the new ground, ‘and disappear along with him.’
‘And your whole scheme along with them!’ she cried. ‘He does not take his servants when he goes a-hunting: a child could read the truth. No, no; the plan is idiotic; it must be Ratafia’s. But hear me. You know the Prince worships me?’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Poor Featherhead, I cross his destiny!’
‘Well now,’ she continued, ‘what if I bring him alone out of the palace, to some quiet corner of the Park—the Flying Mercury, for instance? Gordon can be posted in the thicket; the carriage wait behind the temple; not a cry, not a scuffle, not a footfall; simply, the Prince vanishes!—What do you say? Am I an able ally? Are my beaux yuex of service? Ah, Heinrich, do not lose your Anna!—she has power!’
He struck with his open hand upon the chimney. ‘Witch!’ he said, ‘there is not your match for devilry in Europe. Service! the thing runs on wheels.’
‘Kiss me, then, and let me go. I must not miss my Featherhead,’ she said.