“I understand that Mr Judson can perform the service at the Consulate,” said the Queen quickly. “I should not like a purely civil marriage.”
“Det iss all right,” said the Chevalier. “I hef talked to Colonel Monckton a great deal about de metter. De merrich can take place et de Consulate in his pressence, and nothink more will be wanted.”
“Perhaps,” said Lord Caerleon to his brother, rather doubtfully, “it might be as well if you left for the desert immediately after the ceremony. If there is any idea of kidnapping you, they might still carry you off, and set the lawyers to work to declare the marriage invalid.”
“We will leave Damascus as soon as the ceremony is performed,” said the Queen calmly. “When we are together and out of their reach they can do nothing against us. The Emperor Sigismund has no jurisdiction over me, and no court in the world would deny that Count Mortimer, an Englishman born, could be legally married at a British Consulate. On his side the marriage must stand, and if they declare it invalid on mine—well, we will be married over and over again until they are content to allow it to stand. But there must not be the slightest suspicion of any flaw. You will see to that, messieurs?” She looked at the three men.
“There shall be none,” responded Lord Caerleon.
“It will be better,” said Cyril, “to tell no one but Monckton of our change of plan until the morning. With the best intentions in the world, Phil and the young fellows could not help letting it be seen that they had an important secret in charge, and the least slip might ruin us. I suppose, Chevalier,”—he was fingering absently Princess Soudaroff’s letter, which the Queen had asked him to read,—“it has occurred to you that Vladimir Alexandrovitch had some object in giving away his fellow-conspirators like this?”
“You mean det he intended to let you hef a hint to escape, Count?”
“Not necessarily. I think he has some other plan on hand—more important to him, though not to the Emperor Sigismund—and he has deliberately sacrificed his ally in order to divert your attention from his own game.”
“But what iss det?” cried the Chevalier distractedly.
“Ah, that you must not ask me. I could have told you once, I don’t doubt, but now”—he shrugged his shoulders. “Think it out if you can, Chevalier.”