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Updated: June 3, 2025
If this was the temper of the people now, what would it be when they found their suspicions justified? Had Ogla Loschek been right after all, and not merely jealous? And if she were, was the game worth the candle?
As he went on, the Chancellor's hand touched a button. "Bring here at once the Countess Loschek," he said, to the servant who came. "Take two of the guard, and bring hey." Then, remembering the work he had to do, he took another sip of milk. "These things you have done," he said to Nikky. "And weak and wicked enough they are. But, on the other hand, you found the King." "Others found him also.
Olga Loschek had visited her. No accident all this, but a carefully thought-out plan of Karl's. She had met Karl again. She was no longer the ill-dressed, awkward girl of the mountains, and his passion grew, rather than died. He had made further love to her then, urged her to go away with him on a journey to the eastern end of the kingdom, would, indeed, have compromised her hopelessly.
Friendly relations between the two countries were established; and soon, very soon, would be ratified by his marriage. It was not of Olga Loschek, but of Hedwig that he thought, as his car climbed swiftly to the lodge. Hedwig had given up. She went through her days with a set face, white and drawn, but she knew now that the thing she was to do must be done.
But the old King did not even know she was there. The failure of her plan as to Nikky and Hedwig was known to the Countess the night before. Hedwig had sent for her and faced her in her boudoir, very white and calm. "He refuses," she said. "There is nothing more to do." "Refuses!" "He has promised not to leave Otto." Olga Loschek had been incredulous, at first. It was not possible.
She, Olga Loschek, by the lifting of a finger, could turn their smug superiority into tears and despair, could ruin them and send them flying for shelter to the very ends of the earth. But when she looked at the little Crown Prince, legs dangling, eating his thin bread and butter as only a hungry small boy can eat, she shivered. By what means must she do all this! By what unspeakable means!
"I think you are a very good doctor," he said, smiling, and went out to Miss Braithwaite's sitting room. It was then that Olga Loschek played the last card, and won. She moved quickly to Nikky's side. "I have a message for you," she said. A light leaped into Nikky's eyes. "For me?" "Do you know where my boudoir is?" "I yes, Countess."
Still the silence, broken only by the drip of water from the ceiling into a tin pail. Had she not known the past record of the men before her, the rather opera bouffe setting with which they chose to surround themselves might have aroused her scorn. But Olga Loschek knew too much.
"After all, it is you who must do this thing. No one else. It is you they are offering on the altar of their ambition." "Ambition?" "Ambition. What else is it? Surely you do not believe these tales they tell old wives' tales of plot and counterplot!" "But the Chancellor " "Certainly the Chancellor!" mocked Olga Loschek. "Highness, for years he has had a dream. A great dream.
The boy would not forget, as he himself had not forgotten. His hand, thrust into his pocket, rested on the faded daguerreotype there. Peter Niburg was shot at dawn the next morning. He went, a coward, to his death, held between two guards and crying piteously. But he died a brave man. Not once in the long hours of his interrogation had he betrayed the name of the Countess Loschek.
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