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Updated: June 25, 2025
Colonel Quinnox escorted him to the barracks of the guards where he was to share a room with young Haddan, a corporal in the service. "The wild, untamed gentleman from the hills came without a word, I see," said Lorry, who had watched the approach. He and Yetive stood in the window overlooking the grounds from the princess's boudoir, Beverly had just entered and thrown herself upon a divan.
It makes me sick, 'pon my soul, sir, to think of them dying of thirst and all that, and me here safe and sound, so to speak." That night Haddan and a fellow-subaltern attempted to leave the Castle grounds by way of the private gate in the western wall, only to be driven back by careful watchers on the outside. A second attempt was made at two o'clock.
She and Beverly trembled with anxiety as they stood face to face with the tall guard who had come back to them so mysteriously. Baldos stood at the foot of the stone steps, a guard on each side of him. One of these was the shamefaced Haddan, Dangloss's watchman, whose vigil had been a failure. The gaze of the suspected guard purposely avoided that of Beverly Calhoun.
It struck him as preposterous that the entire population of Edelweiss could be in the game to deceive him. "Who is the princess's companion?" he inquired of Haddan, as they left the castle grounds. "The Countess Dagmar, cousin to her highness. She is the wife of Mr. Anguish." "I have seen her before," said Baldos, a strange smile on his face.
Either Franz was mistaken, or Haddan was a most skilful dissembler. It struck him as utterly beyond the pale of reason that the entire castle guard should have been enlisted in the scheme to deceive him. When sleep came, he was contenting himself with the thought that morning doubtless would give him clearer insight to the situation.
With the foils and sabers he easily vanquished the foremost fencers in high and low circles. He could ride like a Cossack or like an American cowboy. Of them all, his warmest admirer was Haddan, the man set to watch him for the secret service. It may be timely to state that Haddan watched in vain.
Woodgate, each of them a centre of influence in Oxford and the country. It was not Roman in the devoted Charles Marriott, or in Isaac Williams's able and learned pupil, Mr. Arthur Haddan. It was not Roman in Mr. James Mozley, after Mr. Newman, the most forcible and impressive of the Oxford writers.
"Has he told you of the lesson in manners he enjoyed last night?" He was leading his guests toward the quarters, Baldos and Haddan following. The new guard could not help hearing the sarcastic remark. "You didn't have him beaten?" cried Beverly, stopping short. "No, but I imagine it would have been preferable. I talked with him for half an hour," said the general, laughing significantly.
Dressed carefully in the close-fitting uniform of the royal guard, taller than most of his fellows, handsomer by far than any, he was the most noticeable figure in and about the barracks. Haddan coached him in the way he was to approach the princess, Baldos listening with exaggerated intentness and with deep regard for detail.
That there was a mystery surrounding the character of Baldos, the goat-hunter, Dangloss did not question for an instant: and in spite of the instructions received at the outset, he was using all his skill to unravel it. Baldos was not summoned to the castle until noon. His serene indifference to the outcome of the visit was calculated to deceive the friendly but watchful Haddan.
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