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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Yes," said Themar. "Under oath I was to obey Ronador's commands without question. But he did not even trust me with the cipher message of instruction. That was mailed to the Baron's Washington address written in an ink that only turned dark with the heat of a fire. I too was sent to Washington. Ronador knew nothing of the Baron's trip to Connecticut."
When or where he had gone, no one knew. Only Diane caught the whir of his motor on the road to the north. "It is better so," said Tregar compassionately. "Though his love began in treachery, Miss Westfall, and drove him through the mire, it was, I think, genuine. A man may not see his hopes take wing with comfort. And Ronador's life has not been of the happiest."
He is pledged to that in writing." The color died out of Ronador's face. The fire, roused by the specter he had fought this many a day, burned itself quite to ashes and left him cold and sullen. He had played and lost. And he was an older and quieter man for the losing. Whatever else lay at the bottom of his contradictory maze of dark moods and passions, he had courage and the curse of conscience.
"Yes," said Ronador impatiently, "what is it?" "Miss Westfall I spied upon her camp in Connecticut " "Yes?" "It is well to know all. For days she lived with Poynter in the forest " Ronador's eyes blazed. "Go, go!" he cried, his face quite colorless, "for the love of God go before I kill you! I I can not bear any more to-night." Who had scored!
Who ever would have thought of seeing you here, Prince, among the trees and and the ground doves and and all the lilies!" The unfortunate lady, convinced by now that Ronador's apparent resentment concerned, in some inexplicable way, her escort, herself and the lilies, glanced beseechingly about her.
Unfortunately, I have urgent business with Prince Ronador. Indeed, I have waited for just such an opportunity as this." He was by far the calmest of the four. Ronador's violent temper was rapidly routing his studied composure. Diane's lovely face was flushed and indignant.
In silence they sat there, Philip smoking restlessly and wondering, Diane staring at the creek, with Ronador's impassioned voice ringing wildly in her ears. In the east the sky turned faintly primrose, the creek glowed faintly pink. The great moon glided lower by the marsh with the branch of a dead tree black against its brilliant shield. Marsh and oak were faintly gray.
"There was always tradition " she reminded. Ronador's reply was sincere and gallant. Diane was lovelier than any princess, he said, and in Houdania, tradition had been replaced years back by a law which granted freedom. "Though to be sure," he added bitterly, "each generation seeks to break it. Tregar tried, urging me persistently for diplomatic reasons to take a wife of his choosing.
Tregar thought of the black moments of impulse and the tearing conscience and pitied him profoundly. "Excellency," reminded Diane, "there is an explanation " But Ronador's pallid lips were set in lines of fierce denial. "Philip!" appealed the girl. "Well," said Philip looking away, "it's a tale of a candlestick." "A candlestick!" "And a hidden paper." "Yes?"
Sho-caw's eyes are keen, alert and grave; Ronador's dark, compelling and very eloquent. What though there is a constant sense of suppression and smouldering fire and not quite so much directness as one might wish " "Philip's eyes are calm and steady and very frank," said the girl, "and he is false." "Yes," said the rain with a noise like a shower of tears, "yes, he is very false."
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