“Well, don’t drop her too suddenly, and hurt her feelings,” said Armitage, amused by the thoroughness of this reformation. “Her husband may make an international affair of it if you do.”
Breakfast had to be cut short that morning, for a servant came to say that the Prince was preparing to start. Danaë went with her husband to the portico to see him mount, and her brother smiled grimly when he perceived her costume.
“Your husband has known how to punish you after all, I see!” he said.
“Yes, it is my punishment,” said Danaë, looking at him with guileless eyes. If Armitage would not uphold his own marital dignity, his wife would do it for him. They rode away, with aides-de-camp and guards, and Danaë’s carriage, with her own particular escort, drew up. She was to be attended also by Petros, who had been allowed without much difficulty to slip back into his old post of confidential servant to Prince Romanos, and Janni and his nurse would go in the carriage with her. But here disappointment was awaiting her, for the nurse, an autocrat whom Danaë, greatly to her disgust, was forced to conciliate at every turn, sent down a message to say that Prince John had a bad cold this morning, and it would not be safe for him to drive in an open carriage. A little earlier Danaë would have gone straight to the nursery and fetched away her nephew by force, but she was beginning to understand now the relative importance of herself and the nurse in the household, and submitted to the fiat. Petros came forward to help her into the carriage, and as he did so, muttered a few words.
“There was another of those murders in the city last night, my lady.”
Danaë paused with her foot on the step. “But what has that to do with me?” she asked.
“How can I tell, lady? Only, when the news was brought to the Lord Romanos this morning, he unlocked his private desk and took out a paper, and crossed out something that was written upon it. I had seen him do the same the last time, so to-day I placed myself where I could see the paper. There were a number of short lines of writing upon it, all crossed out but two, and one of these was at the foot of the paper, away from the rest.”
“Well?” said Danaë impatiently.
“Lady mine, those who have died in this way were all members of the band whose help I hired in the matter of the death of the Lady. He who died last night was the last of them save myself.”
“I can’t imagine what you are driving at, friend Petraki!” said Danaë.