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He on the left, the man with the puffed eyes and the dissipated mouth you will notice also a scar over the left temple " Blanco was regarding his cigarette tip as he flecked an ash to the floor "is Monsieur Jusseret supposed to be high in the affairs of the French Cabinet Noir." "There is one more and a vacant chair," suggested Benton. The toreador nodded. "True, I had not forgotten the other.
Even if she were willing, it was more than certain that Jusseret had not entered into the undertaking without some sufficient end in view. Having entered it, he would not relinquish it because the first attempt had been bungled.
"Messieurs, we have wrecked Karyl's dynasty, but it still devolves upon us in workmanlike fashion to clear away the débris." Martin leaned forward and put his query like an attorney cross-examining a witness. "Where was this Queen when the King was taken?" "That," replied Jusseret, "is a question to be put to Von Ritz or Karyl.
Less than ten minutes had elapsed since the sentinel had been pacing below. Jusseret, passing unostentatiously out through the Palace gate, glanced at his watch and smiled. It had been excellently managed. Later, Karyl recovered consciousness to find things little changed. He was lying on a leather couch in his own rooms.
Is it too late to inquire of France" he bent a chilling frown upon the smiling Jusseret "what she now purposes? It appears that Spain knew no more than the newspapers. Spain also believed that Louis died by his own hand, and artlessly assumed the motive of disappointment in his love for Marie Astaride. We believed we were being frankly informed."
There need be no hint of violence. There must be a State funeral." "Where is the body?" objected Louis. Jusseret shrugged his shoulders. "That I cannot say. I can, however, assure you that it is quite lifeless. Since the death occurred some days ago the lying in State may be dispensed with. A closed casket is sufficient." "And his Queen?"
Jusseret had been talking in a low tone, too low to endanger being overheard by the cocher, but now with excess of caution he leaned forward and whispered a name. The name was José Reebeler. It was June. Three months had passed since the Grand Duke had steamed into Puntal Harbor as Blanco's prisoner of war. The Duke had since that day been a guest of the King.
The Countess Astaride leaned back and smiled from the depths of the cushions. "It is usually a mistake to be made a prisoner," she smiled. "But such a foolish mistake," quarreled Jusseret. "To permit oneself to be lured into so palpable a trap. It is most absurd." "Now that it is done," inquired the woman, "is it not almost as absurd to waste time deploring the spilled milk?
Even crowns to-day are not won in tug-of-war." The woman had looked at him half-seriously, half-challengingly. "I am told, Monsieur Jusseret," she said, "that no government in Europe has a secret which you do not know. I am told that you have changed a crown or two from head to head in your career. Let me see your hand." Instantly he had held it out.
Then he laughed callously as he added aloud: "You see there's a regiment stationed there, just now, which I'd rather not meet. I used to belong to its mess once upon a time." Jusseret looked up at the renegade, then with a cynical laugh he rose. "These little matters are inconvenient," he admitted, "but embarrassments beset one everywhere.
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