# Munsey's/Royal Amethyst/Chapter 12

pp. 215–218

### XII

The proceedings began in good time. At half past ten Deasy announced that a carriage had entered the estate by the east gate. Three or four minutes later he appeared again, to communicate the news that the vehicle contained only one occupant and was now near the castle. Princess Amirel looked surprised, for she had been confident that the prince and the count would appear on the scene together.
Deasy returned to us about five minutes later. He advanced up the hall and said in a voice like that of a herald:
“The Graf von Hofberg, chancellor of the Principality of Amavia, craves permission to confer with Mr. Hanmer on a matter of great importance.”
The princess rose from her seat. She glanced at me and then at Nancy, and finally turned to Deasy with bent brows.
“The count wishes to see Mr. Hanmer, you say? Did he not first ask permission to enter my presence?” she said in her deepest tones.
“If it pleases your highness,” answered Deasy, “that was the only message the gentleman delivered. I have repeated word for word what he said.”
The princess bit her lip and looked around her. Then she raised her right hand and pointed to the door.
“Go!” she said. “Bid the Graf von Hofberg return whence he came!”
For a full moment I had been meditating a bold stroke. I stepped forward.
“Wait, Deasy,” I said quietly. “Withdraw to the porch—I will give you further orders presently.”
The princess turned upon me with a gleam of anger in her usually placid eyes.
“How dare you?” she exclaimed. “My orders—”
“Pardon me, princess,” I said. “I would dare everything—even your displeasure—in your behalf. Last night I allowed myself to relinquish my duty as captain of this adventure; this morning I assume my old, my proper responsibility. Count Hofberg desires audience of me, and I propose to grant his request. Meanwhile I desire you both to retire to your apartments.”
I gazed at her steadily as I spoke. She stood immediately before me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing, her hands clenched. She was positively angry now, and in her anger she looked ten times more beautiful.
“I trust that you will obey my orders with proper submission,” I continued. “It would give me much pain to be obliged to resort to harsh measures.”
She stared at me as if she thought I had taken leave of my senses.
“Obey—your—orders?” she said, at last. “Submission! How dare you thus address me?”
“I beg you both to retire,” I insisted.
The princess looked at me once more, and this time she stamped her foot.
“I refuse to retire!” she exclaimed.
“I am sorry,” I said. “This leaves but one course open to me.” I assumed my deepest tone of voice. “Deasy!”
Deasy shot in from the porch.
“Sir?”
I pointed to the door between the stone hall and the rest of the house.
“Lock that door!” I commanded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Put the key in your pocket.”
“Yes, sir—it is done, sir.”
“Return to the Graf von Hofberg, make my apologies for the delay, and conduct him to a seat in the courtyard.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned right about face, and marched out. I bowed to the princess, walked across to the outer door, and, taking the key from the inside, transferred it to the outside. As it grated in the lock, the princess spoke again.
“Stay! You dare to lock me in here? You dare?”
“Permit me to remind you, princess,” I replied, “that I have already told you that I would dare anything in your service.”
She stared at me with eyes full of incredulity.
“I will not endure such an insult, such an outrage!” she burst out. “Nancy, do you allow this?”
“I'm afraid it's not a question of choice,” said Nancy.
The princess looked at me with a glance which changed in one swift moment from anger and surprise to despair and entreaty. Suddenly she sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands.
“Oh, if only Desmond were here!” she wailed.
I closed the door, turned the key in the lock, and walked out on the porch. I held my head high as I strode across the sunlit courtyard to meet Count Hofberg.
He stood near the chairs, Deasy standing a little in front of him. The count wore a dark flannel suit, a straw hat, and brown boots. He carried a light cane and pearl-gray gloves, there was a bright flower in his buttonhole, and his appearance was altogether very pleasant and summery. As he stood awaiting my approach, his glance wandered from one side of the courtyard to another. It lingered for a moment on the men in Lincoln green before it passed to the sentinel on the tower. The count appeared mildly interested.
As I drew near, his expression changed. He looked me over and swept himself halfway to the ground in a courtly bow. I also bowed.
“Accept my sincere regrets for my apparent rudeness, count,” I began. “Permit me to offer you a seat and my sincere apologies for receiving you in the open air.”
“I thank you,” said he, seating himself. “Pray do not apologize, Mr. Hanmer. In this weather, and in this delightful country, the open air seems to me much to be preferred to the interior of house or castle.”
We passed a little time in the. interchange of such innocent remarks before the count got down to business. It was a pleasure to hear him speak. He possessed a soothing voice, and his English was perfect. There was a straightforwardness, too, about him, which appeared to be of the essence of candor. He had a trick of looking you straight in the eye, not only while he spoke to you, but while you spoke to him.
“Mr. Hanmer,” he began, “I think we understand each other quite well on certain points. The Princess Amirel of Amavia has deserted the court of her brother, the reigning prince, and has flown to this castle, the ancestral home of her lover, Sir Desmond Adare, in the company and under the protection of her friend, Miss Selma St. Clair, and yourself. Here she proposes to remain until Sir Desmond's arrival. My sovereign, the Prince of Amavia, and I, his chancellor and intimate adviser, have come here to bring about the return of the princess to her rightful place. I pay this visit to you at my sovereign's express wish, Mr. Hanmer.”
“I believe you are correct as to all your facts, herr graf,” I said; “but I do not quite understand why you visit me. I am here as the representative of the princess, and as her defender until the arrival of Sir Desmond Adare, and I may at once say that her highness will certainly not return to—”
“Ah, pardon, pardon!” he exclaimed, interrupting me. “Of her present state of mind what need is there to speak? Mr. Hanmer, the house of Amavia ranks among the most ancient in Europe. Of late years it has fallen on evil times, and much of its glory has faded. Nevertheless, it is still the house of Amavia, and its daughter, the only woman representative of her family, should not mate with an inferior, of alien race, and of no great rank in his own country.”
“Sir Desmond Adare,” I remarked, “is a baronet, and I believe that he can trace direct descent from the ancient Irish kings.”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt!” replied the count, carelessly waving my statement aside. “But I am sure you will agree that the daughter of a long line of reigning sovereigns should not mate with one who, whatever his private worth may be, is much her inferior in rank.”
“Don't you think,” I said, “that we had better face the practical aspect of this matter? It makes little difference to the princess that Sir Desmond Adare is not of royal blood. The plain truth of the situation is that she means to marry him. She has come here for that purpose, and here she will remain, securely guarded, until Sir Desmond arrives.”
“That is your theory,” he replied quietly. “It is with the precise intention of rendering it impossible to put that theory into practice that I am here, Mr. Hanmer.”
“Ah!” I said. “And what will you do?”
He smoked in silence for awhile.
“I love candor,” he said at length. “You must know, Mr. Hanmer, that I intend to espouse the Princess Amirel of Amavia myself. My house is as ancient as her own, there is no stain on my lineage, and my ancestors have won great fame and honors. The match would be peculiarly advantageous to me, for the princess is a rich woman, while I am a poor man, full of ambition and resolved to become a power in Europe. You perceive, then, that this marriage with Sir Desmond Adare is quite out of the question.”
“I am afraid I do not,” I said. “Pardon me if I remark that I doubt your power, or anybody else's, to make the Princess Amirel alter her intention. In fact, if you and the Prince of Amavia remain here for a little while, you will find that the princess and Sir Desmond are safely and happily united; and our laws are such that any interference with the wife of Sir Desmond Adare—”
“Oh, yes, yes!” he exclaimed. “I understand! If she is married to Sir Desmond Adare, then the matter may be definitely ended, or it may be just beginning—one never knows. If she is married to him, I say.”
“He is rushing home to marry her,” I retorted.
“So I understand,” he said musingly; “but there's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip. You see, Mr. Hanmer, there is the contingency that Sir Desmond Adare may very much resent the fact that his intended bride is—”
He did not complete the sentence.
“Your meaning, count?” I said sternly.
“To be truthful and candid,” he replied quietly, “it is a fact that the present companions of the Princess Amirel of Amavia are an opera singer and a person who was cashiered from the British army for drunkenness and gambling.”
I stared at him in silence for awhile. I was trying to think what devil's trick he was up to.
“As for Miss St. Clair—” I began lamely.
“Oh,” he said, “I know all about Miss St. Clair! Nancy Flynn is a charming woman. She possesses a beautiful voice, she is exceedingly fond of the princess, and she is altogether an interesting personality; but she is Nancy Flynn, daughter of an old Dublin music master, and not the fitting confidante of a princess of Amavia—just as you, Mr. Hanmer, with your record, are not the man to whom the guardianship of Princess Amirel should have been confided. You and Nancy have made a mess of the business, and I think you will find that Sir Desmond Adare is of my opinion. Your presence here, all that you have done so far, all that you are doing now, will assist me rather than the princess. Sir Desmond Adare is a proud man. Moreover, he lacks imagination and humor. You may picture to yourself what his feelings will be when he finds that the watchdog who has been selected to guard his future wife is—yourself!”
I remained silent for a moment. The count continued to smoke. His attitude was unchanged.
I rose to my feet and put my hands in my pockets.
“As we are both such fervent devotees of candor,” I said, looking down at him, “perhaps you will be good enough to tell me exactly what it is that you want of me. Don't be afraid of putting it in plain language!”
“Excellently said!” he replied as coolly as ever. “Well, then, I want you. Remember, Mr. Hanmer, that I know all about you. You've been under close observation since this quixotic adventure began. I know all that has taken place. I can make use of you. Under me you can begin a new career, and your ambition will have a chance of being gratified—”
“It will be gratified as things are,” I interrupted.
“You are a soldier of fortune—so am I,” he continued. “You have been a great gambler—so have I. You have forsaken the tables—so have I, but only to play for bigger stakes elsewhere. Come and play with me, Mr. Hanmer! What is this Irishman to you that you should serve him? I know him; he will dismiss you with a curt nod—and a check. Serve me! If I give you nothing when I am down, I shall reward you beyond your expectations when I am up. Will you enter my service?”
I looked him full in the eyes—he looked me full in mine, honestly enough.
“No!” I said.
He nodded his head and sighed.
“It is exactly what I expected of you,” he said. “Well, I always try. You are making a mistake. I don't know where this adventure of yours will lead you, but I think I should have saved you much if you had deserted it for me. However, we are now on our old footing again, eh? Well, a little interchange of opinion between rival commanders is a welcome oasis in the desert of strife!”