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It was Nikky's turn to clear his throat. "Marriage is a serious matter," he said. "It is not to be gone into lightly." "Once, when I asked you about marriage, you said marriage was when two people loved each other, and wanted to be together the rest of their lives." "Well," hedged Nikky, "that is the idea, rather."
The son of Maria Menrad must be his mother's son. And the Crown Prince is attached to you. Not for your sake, but for his, I am inclined to be lenient. What I shall demand for that leniency is that no word of love again pass between you and the Princess Hedwig." "It would be easier to go away." "Aye, of course. But 'easier' is not your word nor mine." But Nikky's misery touched him.
So Nikky looked, made sure that a man in civilian clothing was close at their heels, and led the way across the Square to the riding-school. A small crowd lined up and watched the passing of the little Prince. As he passed, men lifted their hats and women bowed. He smiled right and left, and, took two short steps to one of Nikky's long ones.
He inserted two royal fingers into the envelope and drew out Nikky's cigarette papers! For a moment there was complete silence in the room. Karl turned the papers over. It was then that his face hardened into a horrible grin. He looked up, raising his head slowly. "What is this?" he demanded, very quietly. "The letter, sire," said Nikky. "The letter! Do you call these a letter?"
How was he to know the treasury of strange things that the Crown Prince had tapped the previous afternoon? But, after a glance around the room, Nikky's eyelid drooped also. He slid the paper wad into his pocket. "I am afraid His Royal Highness has hurt your eye, M. Puaux," said Miss Braithwaite. Not with sympathy. She hated tutors.
His prisoner kicked, but owing to Nikky's wise precaution of having straddled him, nothing untoward happened. Behold, then, Nikky of the brave heart standing over his prostrate prisoner, and rolling him, mummy fashion, in his own tunic and a rug from the machine.
The dull-eyed landlord, yawning as he lighted the party upstairs with candles, apparently neither noticed nor cared that the three of them surrounded a fourth, and that the fourth looked both sullen and ill. The car, with one of the secret-service men, Mettlich sent on to follow Nikky's trail, and to report it to him. The other man was assigned to custody of the chauffeur.
But Nikky's theory was, that if one is afraid to do a thing, better to do it and get over being afraid. "I was terribly afraid of a bayonet attack," Nikky had observed, "until I was in one. The next one I rather enjoyed!" So the Crown Prince sat down on the sloping roof behind the chimney, and gathered his legs under him for a slide. Then he heard a door open, and footsteps.
The long, rather delicate nose of his family, fine hair growing a trifle thin, and a thin, straight body this was Karl, King of Karnia, and long-time enemy to Nikky's own land. He ignored Nikky's companion. "You brought a letter?" Nikky bowed, and the other man held it out. Karl took it. "The trip was uneventful?" "Yes, sire."
The messenger was coming down the steps, not stealthily, but clattering, with the ring of nails in the heels of heavy boots. Nikky flung his long length into the tonneau, and there crouched. It was dark enough to conceal him, but Nikky's was a large body in a small place. However, the chauffeur only glanced at the car, kicked a tire with a practiced foot, and got in.
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