“If I thought you an honest, quixotic fool, Lord Armitage, should I tell you? Well, then, your Prince, with the prudence and caution so characteristic of him, proposes to send his follower, Colonel Wylie, to discover whether the Emathian insurrection is sufficiently widespread, well-supported—safe, in fact—to justify him in extending to it the patronage of his name. Prince Romanos, on the other hand, presents himself among the insurgents as one of themselves, asking only to be allowed to fight and die in their ranks. Which is likely to commend himself most to their favour?”
Armitage’s face was a study while she spoke. Amazement at the matter-of-course way in which Wylie’s secret mission was mentioned, followed by indignation at the slur thrown on Maurice, was again succeeded by surprise at her announcement of the intentions of Prince Romanos.
“You mean that Christodoridi will disappear from here to throw in his lot with the insurgents, madame?”
“At very nearly the same hour to-night as your Colonel Wylie, and for the same reason. They are both considerate enough to wish not to compromise my son, and therefore both will attend the farewell reception of the athletes, and then slip away quietly. Colonel Wylie may be a perfect paladin, but I think you may assure yourself that the man who goes among his future subjects in person is more likely to be chosen than the one who sends his servant.”
Armitage assented mechanically, while the Princess went on—
“Therefore, as I say, you may be cheerful. It is not likely to occur to Prince Theophanis to go to Hagiamavra himself, and you will not put it into his head. I am rather surprised that his wife has not insisted upon it already, but perhaps he has kept her in the dark. You must be most careful not to let her suspect anything to-day, for your face is eloquent of tremendous news. I can’t advise you too strongly not to say anything to her about Emathia or Hagiamavra, for she would guess at once that you were concealing something, and she has force of character enough to hurry her husband off this evening. But I need not tell you to be careful.”
She watched his face narrowly. The risk she had taken was great,—though she had calculated upon her reading of Armitage’s character,—but she saw she had succeeded. He might accept information from this intruder, but not advice. She smiled contentedly when he made the excuse of urgent business to take his departure. Even if he had not spent some minutes in conversation elaborately designed to divert her mind from the previous subject, she could have read in his disturbed expression the thoughts that were chasing each other through his brain:—“I must put her off the scent, mustn’t let her see that I believe it. After all, it mayn’t be true. Must see if there’s anything to confirm it before I tell anybody.”
That evening Wylie was busy in the room which was nominally a sanctum for Armitage and himself, but served in reality as a council-chamber when Eirene’s presence was not desired. He was dressed for the Prince of Dardania’s reception, but his luggage was ready packed, and his riding clothes were laid out in the bedroom adjoining. Presently Maurice came in, and his follower looked up from the money-belt he was filling, and nodded.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are letting me prospect around a little before throwing yourself into this thing,” he said, when his calculations were over.
“My wife doesn’t like it at all,” returned Maurice gloomily. “She thinks I am letting slip a golden opportunity.”