The Puppet Crown by Harlod MacGrath (best life changing books .TXT) 📕

from the mess table, "bring out your box of instruments; and you, Scharfenstein, a basin of cold water. Quick!"

Maurice knelt and deftly cut away the Lieutenant's boot. A pool of blood collected on the floor.

"God save us!" cried the Captain, "his boot is full of blood." He turned to Scharfenstein, who was approaching with the basin. "What has happened, Max?"

Scharfenstein briefly explained.

"And Kopf?"

"Got away, curse him!"

"And the others?" with a lowering brow.

"They all got away," adding an oath under his breath. Max set the basin on the floor.

"Bad, very bad. Why didn't you shoot?"

"He was afraid of hitting Mademoiselle Bachelier," Maurice interposed.

Max threw him a grateful look.

"Humph!" The Captain called his men around him. "Two of you-. But wait. Who's back of Kopf?"

"Our distinguished Colonel," snapped Max, "who was this day relieved of his straps. A case of revenge, probably."

"Beauvais! Ah, ah!" The Captain smiled grimly. He had always hated Beauvais, who had, for no obvious reason, passed him and grasped the coveted colonelcy, and because, curiously enough, the native troops had made an idol of him. "Beauvais? I am not surprised. An adventurer, with neither kith nor country."

"He is Prince Walmoden," said Maurice, "and for some reason not known, the emperor has promised to recall him."

This information caused the Captain to step back, and he muttered the name several times. "Austria. . . ." A gloom settled on his face. "No matter. Prince or no prince, or had he one thousand emperors behind him, no matter. Four of you seek him and arrest him. If he offers resistance, knock him on the head, but arrest him. A traitor is without name, country or respect. His purpose . . . Never mind.

"Four of you seek for Kopf. Look into Stuler's, in at the opera, and follow Kopf's woman home. I'll take it upon myself to telegraph the frontier to allow no one to cross on the pain of being shot. Pass the word to the officers in the stables. Hurry away before the archbishop hears of the matter. Away with you, and quietly. And one of you seek that blockhead of a coachman, who did not know enough to come back here and inform us. Beauvais, make him a prisoner, you are not to know why. As for Kopf, dead or alive-alive will be less convenient for all concerned. Off with you!"

The guardroom was at once emptied, and the cuirassiers turned off toward the stables, where the main body of the troops was stationed.

Riemer, who was both surgeon and soldier, probed the wound in von Miner's leg and extracted the bullet, which had lodged in the fleshy part of the calf. He applied cold water, lints and bandages. All the while von Mitter sat in the chair, his eyes shut and his lips closed tightly.

"There!" said the surgeon, standing up, "that's better. The loss of blood is the worst part of it." Next he took a few stitches in the cut on the cheek and threw his cloak over the wounded man's knee. "He'll be all right in a day or so, though he'll limp. Carl?"

"O, I'm sound enough," answered von Mitter, opening his eyes. "A little weak in the knees, that's all. I shouldn't have given in, only Kopf got away when we had him fair and fast. We found his horse wandering about the Frohngarten, but no sign of Johann. He's got it, though, square in the back."

"I'm sure of it," said Maurice, who leaned over the back of the speaker's chair.

The Captain eyed him inquiringly.

"Pardon me," said Scharfenstein. "Captain, Monsieur Carewe, an American tourist, formerly of the United States cavalry. And a pretty shot, too, by the book! It would have gone badly with us but for him."

"My thanks," said the Captain, with a jerky nod. "Max, come, give me the whole story."

And Scharfenstein dropped into a chair and recounted in picturesque diction the adventure; how they had remained by the royal carriage till the nurse, recovering from her faint, had rushed out and told them of the abduction; and the long race on the south shore. While he listened the Captain smoked thoughtfully; and when the story was done, he rose and wagged his head.

"Call it revenge," he said, "if it strikes you in that light. Monsieur Carewe, what is your opinion?"

"It occurs to me," answered Maurice, rubbing the scratch the late Colonel's sword had left on his chin, "it occurs to me that the man played his hand a few days too late."

"Which is to say?"

"Well, I do not call it revenge," Maurice admitted, unwilling to venture any theory.

"No more do I;" and the Captain began drumming on the mantel. "What say, Max; how would the illustrious Colonel look with the shadow of a crown on his head? He comes from Austria, who, to my thinking, is cognizant of all he does and has done."

The answer was not spoken. The door, leading to the main palace through the kitchens, opened, and the Marshal, the princess, and the maid of honor came down the steps. The Captain, Max and the surgeon stood at salute. Maurice, however, drew back into the shadows at the side of the grate. The old soldier gazed down at the pale face of the young Lieutenant, and smiled kindly.

"Even the best of soldiers make mistakes," he said; "even the best. No," as von Mitter made an attempt to speak. "I've heard all about it, and from a most reliable source," nodding toward the anxious maid of honor. "Colonel," he addressed the Captain, whose eyes started at this appellation, "Colonel, you will report to me in the morning to assume your new duties. You have been a faithful Captain and a good soldier. I know your value, your name and your antecedents, which till now was more than I knew of your late predecessor. Von Mitter will take upon himself your duties as Captain of the household troop; and you, Scharfenstein, will hereafter take charge of her Royal Highness's carriage, and you may choose whom you will as your comrade."

"I have always tried to do my duty," said von Mitter. He felt a small hand secretly press his.

"And you have always succeeded, Captain," said a voice which made Maurice's foolish heart leap. "See, I am the first to give you your new rank. How you must suffer!"

"God bless your Royal Highness!" murmured the fellow, at once racked with pain and happiness. "But I am not the one you must thank for this night's work."

The Marshal peered at the silent figure beyond the fireplace. Maurice was compelled to stand forth. "Ah!" said the Marshal.

"Yes," went on von Mitter, "but for him no one knows what the end might have been. And I, thinking him one of the abducting party coming up from the rear, shot at him."

The princess took a step forward, anxiety widening her dark eyes; and the swift glance added to the fever in the recipient's veins. . . . How beautiful she was, and how far away! He laid his hand on the top of von Mitter's chair.

"Monsieur Carewe," said the Marshal, "seems to have plenty of leisure time on his hands-fortunately for us. You were not hit?"

"O, no," said Maurice, blushing. He had discerned an undercurrent of raillery in the Marshal's tones. "The ball came close to my ear, that was all. It is strange how that fellow got away. I am positive that I hit him."

"We shall find him," said the Marshal, with a look at the newly- appointed Colonel which said: "Your straps hang in the balance." He rubbed his nose. "Well, is your Royal Highness satisfied that there is no danger?"

"Yes, Marshal; but think, if he should have been killed! Ah, what does it all mean? What had this man against me, who have always been kind to him?"

"We shall, with your Highness's permission," said the Marshal, "leave all questions to the future. Let us return to the archbishop, who is doubtless awaiting the news. Take good care of yourself, Captain. To-morrow, Colonel; good evening to you, Monsieur Carewe;" and the terse old soldier proceeded to the door and held it open for the women.

"Good night, Messieurs," said her Highness. "I shall not forget. Thanks to you, Captain." One more glance, and she was gone. But this glance blossomed in one heart into a flower of hope.

The Marshal, having closed the door behind the women, returned to the group before the fireplace. They watched him interestedly.

"Colonel," he said, "make no effort to seek Beauvais. As for Kopf, that is different. But Beauvais-"

"To let him go?" exclaimed the Colonel in dismay.

"Aye, to let him go. We do not seek bears with birdshot, and that is all we have. He will leave the country."

"And go to the duchy!"

"So much the better; when the time comes, our case against him will be so much the stronger. Mind you, this is not from sentiment. I have none," glaring around to see if any dared refute this assertion. "It is policy, and Monseigneur concurs with me."

"But I have sent men after him!" cried the Colonel, in keen disappointment.

"Send men after them to rescind the order."

"And if they should catch him?"

"Let him go; that is my order. The servant will be sufficient for our needs. Monsieur Carewe, I rely on your discretion;" and the Marshal passed into the kitchens.

The men looked at each other in silence. A moment later the Colonel dashed from the room, off to the stables.

"Well, I'm off," said Maurice. The desire to tell what he knew was beginning to master him. It was too late now, he saw that. Besides, they might take it into their heads to detain him. He put on his hat. "Good night; and good luck to your leg, Captain."

"Till to-morrow," said von Mitter, who had taken a fancy to the smooth-faced young American, who seemed at home in all places.

"I am going away to-morrow," said Maurice, pressing the Lieutenant's hand. "I shall return in a day or so."

He led his horse to the hotel stables, lit a fresh cigar and promenaded the terrace. "Some day," he mused, "perhaps I'll be able to do something for myself. To-morrow we'll take a look at Fitzgerald's affairs, like the good fairy we are. If the Colonel is there, so much the worse for one or the other of us." He laughed contentedly. "Beauvais took my warning and lit out, or his henchman would never have made a botch of the abduction. It is my opinion that Madame wanted a hostage, for it is impossible to conceive that the man made the attempt on his own responsibility. I shall return to the duchy in a semi-official character as an envoy extraordinary to look into the whereabouts of one Lord Fitzgerald. Devil take me, but I did make a mess of it when I slapped him on the shoulder that night." The princess had not addressed a word to him. Why?

When the princess and her maid of honor had passed through the kitchens into the princess's boudoir, the maid suddenly caught her mistress's hand and imprinted a hasty kiss on it, to the latter's surprise and agitation. There was something in that kiss which came nearer to sincere affection than Mademoiselle Bachelier had ever shown before.

"Camille?"