The Colonel of the Red Huzzars Part 38

"Come, sweetheart," she said softly.

I could resist no longer. I sprang in; the door slammed, and we were alone together.

No, not alone, either. The Spencer woman was there with us--before us--all around us. "I am Armand Dalberg's wife" was pounding in my brain.

Then I felt a soft little hand slip into mine; a perfumed hair tress touched my cheek; and the sweetest voice, to me, on earth whispered in my ear.

"Don't I get my kiss now?"

I flung my arm about her and caught her close--then loosed her sharply and drew back.

"G.o.d help me, Dehra, I may not," I said.

She laughed softly, and again she found my hand--and I felt her hair brush my face--and her body rest against my shoulder.

"Why, Armand?" she asked. "Why may you not kiss your betrothed?"

"Because," said I, "because----"

"Yes, dear, go on," she whispered.

I drew my hand away from hers. "Did you not hear that woman claim me as her husband?" I said.

But she only pressed the closer. I was in the very corner of the carriage now; I could retreat no farther. And, maybe, I was glad. I think I was.

"But that's no reason," she insisted. "You are not her husband."

"You believe that, dear?" I cried.

She put her arms about my neck and kissed me, almost fiercely, on the lips--then, suddenly, drew back and, with both hands pressed against my breast, she viewed me at arm's length.

"Believe it?" she said; "believe it? I never believed anything else."

I took her hands and reverently touched them to my forehead--then, held them tight.

"After all these years, G.o.d would not send you to me just to mock my prayers," she added.

"But the certificate!" I objected.

"A lie or a forgery," she said scornfully.

I drew her head upon my shoulder. "Sweetheart," I whispered; "may I kiss you, now?"

She lifted her dear face and looked up into mine with glistening eyes, her lips half parted. My own eyes, too, were wet, I think.

"Yes, Armand--now and always," she answered.

And, so I held her, for a moment; then, bent and kissed her. And that kiss is on my lips this instant, and will be until they numb in death.

XV

HER WORD AND HER CERTIFICATE

If any man--having lived a bachelor to early middle life, has then found his ideal, and has been, unexpectedly and undeservedly, favored with her love, and then, within two hours thereafter and in her very presence, has been claimed by another woman as her husband--that man will be able to appreciate something of my state of mind. No one else could, so it is not worth while attempting to describe it.

I admit I lay awake most of the night trying to determine how to meet the Spencer woman's attack. And I had reached no satisfactory decision when I went down to breakfast.

The formal ceremony of my taking over the Governors.h.i.+p of Dornlitz was fixed for noon. I would be occupied the remainder of the afternoon at headquarters; and then, in the evening, I was to give a dinner to the ranking military officers in the Capital. I wanted to get some plan of action arranged at once and, feeling the need of clear-headed counsel, I dispatched Bernheim to the American Emba.s.sy with a request that Courtney join me immediately. I had just finished my meal when he was announced, and we repaired to my private cabinet.

The top paper on my desk was the report of the Secret Police upon "The occupants of the third box on the right," which I had ordered the previous evening. I carried it to Courtney and we read it together. It was long and detailed and covered all the movements of the trio since their entry into Dornlitz.

In effect it was: That the elderly couple were only chance acquaintances of the younger woman, having met her on the train en route from Paris; that they had reached the Capital the previous day and had registered at the Hotel Metzen as "Mr. and Mrs. James Bacon, New York City," and "Mrs.

Armand Dalberg and maid, Was.h.i.+ngton, D. C.;" that the Mrs. Dalberg had remained in her apartments until evening, had then dined in the public dining room with the Bacons, and the three had then gone to the Opera; that no callers had been received by any of them, so far as known by the hotel's officials; that, after the Opera, they had been driven directly to the hotel and had gone into the Hanging Garden and had taken a table; that, presently, the one known as Mrs. Dalberg had intruded upon certain personages of high rank, who were at a near-by table; that, after a rather prolonged discussion, she had been escorted back to her companions, the Bacons (who had, meanwhile, remained at their table) by an Aide-de-Camp of one of the high personages; that the lady in question and the Bacons, very shortly thereafter, retired to their apartments. At six A. M.--when the report was dated--they were still in their respective apartments.

I flung the report on the desk.

"d.a.m.n that woman!" I exclaimed.

Courtney sat down, and the inevitable cigarette case came out.

"That's scarcely emphatic enough, my dear boy," he said. "Go into the next room and cut loose a bit."

"I've nothing else to cut loose with," I replied. "I used up everything, last night."

"Good," said he. "If the pressure is off, you are in shape to think."

I shook my head. "No, I'm not--that's why I sent for you--to do the thinking."

He picked up the Police report. "I'm glad she registered as Mrs. Armand Dalberg," he said.

"The devil you are!" I exclaimed.

He nodded. "The first problem to solve is: What motive this woman has in proclaiming herself your wife. There are only two motives possible, I think, and this registry utterly eliminates one of them."

"You mean it is not blackmail," I said.

"Exactly."

"And the other motive?"

"Revenge."

"Oh, no," I said; "that woman didn't come from America to Dornlitz simply for revenge."

"Very good," said Courtney. "Then, the motive is not hers and we must look elsewhere for it."