“Everything!” cried Maurice triumphantly. “No, Eirene, I’m not going to shout or chortle, or do anything I promised you not to, but I must tell these two, because they’ll have to know, and we want Wylie’s help. Where are you off to, Wylie? Come back at once. You are our stand-by, our victim, our resource, as you have been all along.”
“Didn’t know you’d want me,” muttered Wylie, returning, and Maurice perceived that they had arrived at an inopportune moment, but was wise enough to take no notice.
“We want you tremendously,” he said. “I must tell you that Eirene is behaving like a brick. She is willing to marry me as soon as ever it can be arranged. It’s a proof of confidence I should never have ventured to ask of her, and if ever I fail to justify it, I hope you two will just talk to me as I deserve.” He took Eirene’s hand gently in his, and she gave him a smile which was not far removed from tears, and then drew back into the shadow behind him, unable to meet the eyes of the others. “You see,” he went on, “it will save us no end of bother if we can only get married before the Ladoguins can track Eirene. It seems that the Professor made it right with the soldiers who escorted you here, and the gate-keepers, so that no one will know there was a lady with you, and most happily, no one will dare to make inquiries openly, lest it should be asked why Madame Ladoguin didn’t take better care of her charge. The Professor thinks that when they find no trace of Eirene near the wrecked carriage—for, of course, the Roumis who attacked her will say nothing, for their own sakes—they will give out boldly that she was killed in the first explosion. We can’t let that remain uncontradicted, for the sake of her claims, but it will be much safer if she only comes forward again as my wife.”
“Look here,” said Wylie, “I don’t want to spoil your pleasant arrangement, but where is the danger from Scythia now? The Princess is of age; how can any one prevent her from marrying you if she likes?”
“What’s to keep them from saying that she’s under age, or mad, or anything?” demanded Maurice. “We could call for an inquiry, but she wouldn’t be allowed to remain with us, and you ought to know, if any one does, how hard it would be to get at her if they once got her into their hands again. And besides, they could bring such pressure to bear that no Greek priest in the world would dare to marry us.”
“I should like to join Maurice’s Church,” explained Eirene softly to Zoe, “but he thinks it would be such a good example for the Emathians if they saw that people of different creeds needn’t necessarily quarrel.”
“Poor thing! Is he offering you up as a political sacrifice already?” said Zoe.
“But, I say,” said Wylie hastily, “you seem to forget that a religious marriage isn’t enough. You’ll certainly need a civil ceremony as well, if not two. Do you propose to drive up to the Scythian Consulate and request Ladoguin to perform his duties as registrar?”
“Scarcely,” said Maurice, “though for a long time we couldn’t make out how we were to manage without his services. A declaration that we were Sovereign Princes and could legislate for ourselves would hardly meet the case. But, happily, Eirene has remembered that her father never surrendered his Dacian nationality. When he went to Scythia he held on to his estate in Dacia—I suppose to have something to fall back upon if things went wrong—and now it belongs to her. The simplest thing would be for us all to migrate there, and be married by the village pope and at the British Legation, but the trains are sure to be watched, however unobtrusively. So we must take advantage of the nearest spot of Dacian ground, which is their Consulate in Therma. The Professor is on the best of terms with the Consul, for Dacia has not so far joined in the scramble for influence in Emathia, and sides rather with the Greeks than any one else. No doubt she hopes to have her reward some day, but that doesn’t signify now. There’s a church quite close to the Consulate which is regarded as their special preserve, so we can have both ceremonies complete.”
“The Princess will be married fast enough, but I’m pretty sure you won’t,” objected Wylie.