Her Royal Highness Part 22

"Then pray do not let my hesitation annoy you, Mr Waldron," was her quiet, serious answer. "I know you are my friend, and I highly appreciate your friends.h.i.+p,--but I--I--"

And she broke off short, again biting her lip.

Then, without another word she took up her knife and fork and commenced to eat, as though to divert her thoughts from some subject intensely distasteful to her.

Waldron sat sorely puzzled.

Time after time he tried to induce her to explain further her strange hint as to blackmail, but without avail.

The meal, which proved so dismal and unenjoyable, at last ended and Egisto disappeared for the last time. Both felt relieved.

Then Waldron bent to the Princess Luisa, asking frankly:

"Now tell me what may I do to prove to you my friends.h.i.+p?"

"There is no necessity to prove a fact of which I am already aware," was her reply after a few seconds' reflection.

"Truth to tell, Princess," he remarked, "I cannot quite make you out.

Why are you so silent, and yet so distressed? As a man of the world--a freelance--I could, I am sure, extricate you from what I fear may be a pitfall in which you to-night find yourself. You have been indiscreet, perhaps. Yet all of us, in every station of life, have committed regrettable indiscretions."

"Indiscretions!" she echoed hoa.r.s.ely. "Yes, you are right, Mr Waldron.

Quite right! Ah!" she cried, after a slight pause. "I only wish I were permitted to reveal to you the whole of the strange, tragic circ.u.mstances. They would amaze you, I know--but, alas! I can't."

"Why not?" he protested.

"For the sake of my own honour," she faltered, and her eyes, he saw, were filled with tears.

He sprang up and took her small white hand warmly within his own, saying:

"Let me be your friend, Princess. Do, I implore you."

"Princess!" she cried bitterly. "Will you never learn to drop that t.i.tle when you speak to me."

He apologised, still holding her hand in his strong grip as pledge of his great friends.h.i.+p, and of his deep admiration for her. Love was entirely out of the question, he knew. He had realised that hard fact ever since the startling discovery of that photograph in the drawing-room of the Emba.s.sy.

At last, after a long silence, she spoke in a hard, intense voice, quite unusual to her, for she was full of suppressed emotion.

"If you really are my friend I--I wonder," she hesitated, "if you would do something for me--something to a.s.sist me?"

"Most willingly," he cried. "What is it?"

"I--I hardly like to ask it, but I have no other true and confidential friend in Rome except Renata. And as a maid she cannot help me in this matter without arousing suspicion in a certain quarter."

"What can I do? I'm ready to a.s.sist you in any way in my power," he answered her quickly.

"Even though it necessitates a journey to Brussels?"

"To Brussels!" echoed Hubert in surprise. Then he added: "Of course-- anywhere that may be necessary."

"Then I want this letter delivered by hand. It is most secret and important, and I would only trust it to you, Mr Waldron, because I know that you would never betray my confidence whatever may happen." And she drew forth with nervous fingers from within her blouse a letter sealed with a large black seal bearing the single letter "L." Waldron took it and saw that the address read:

"Private--To Monsieur S. Petrovitch, Bruxelles."

"See here," she went on, showing him a small sc.r.a.p of paper upon which she had written: "Slavo Petrovitch, Box 463 Bureau de Poste, Bruxelles."

"On arrival in Brussels send word to this address that you are there, and you will be met if you make an appointment in the Cafe Metropole."

"But if this letter is in such strict secrecy how am I to establish the ident.i.ty of the Monsieur Petrovitch?" Waldron queried after a second's thought.

For answer she opened the small circular golden locket she wore suspended by a thin platinum chain and exhibited to him a photograph within.

He held his breath as his eyes fell upon it. The picture was that of Henri Pujalet!

She smiled mysteriously in his face, saying:

"You recognise him, I see, as one of our fellow-travellers on the Nile?"

"Yes I do," was Waldron's brief response.

"And you will do this for me as my friend--and ask no questions?"

"I have already promised," he replied, bowing before her very gravely.

"Ah, Mr Waldron!" she cried, bursting into a sudden torrent of tears, quite unable further to repress her emotion. "Yes, I know you are my real true friend! And if you will do this for me you can never know how great a service you are rendering me--a service the magnitude of which you will perhaps one day know when--when I dare to tell you the tragic and astounding truth!" And before he could be aware of it, she had raised his hand in a sudden outburst of frantic grat.i.tude and kissed it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE CIPHER DISPATCH.

Next day Hubert Waldron continued his inquiry with unceasing activity.

Armed with His Majesty's authority, he had an interview with the Commendatore Bertini, the Questore, or Chief of Police of Rome. The secret or political police under Ghelardi was an entirely different department. Therefore, without telling the bald-headed Questore the reason or nature of the inquiry in which he was engaged he requested a.s.sistance in His Majesty's name, and was given the Brigadier Giovanni Pucci, a well-known and astute officer of the _brigade mobile_.

To the tall, thin, athletic-looking, clean-shaven man with small black eyes, and hair turning a trifle grey, Hubert took a fancy at once, and in a taxi they went round to his rooms to hold secret council.

Beside the fire, while the detective, a crafty, keen-eyed Neapolitan, smoked cigarettes, the diplomat explained that he required strict inquiry made into the antecedents of the corporal, Tonini. He also desired information concerning the private lives of General Cataldi, his secretary, Pironti, and the official, Lambarini.

The detective made some careful memoranda in his pocket-book and promised most minute attention to the matter.

"Remember, Signor Pucci," Waldron said, "this affair is strictly confidential and concerns His Majesty alone. I shall tell him that I have entrusted the inquiry to you."

"I will do my very utmost, signore, and place in your hands all the information I can gather. You wish for a written report?"

"Certainly. And only actual facts."

The detective showed greatest curiosity regarding the reason of such inquiries regarding public officials, but the Englishman told him nothing.

"Just make your inquiries, Signor Pucci," he said, "this is all I require of you at present. I may be absent from Rome for a week, so while I am away please continue to work. As you know, the Questore has placed your services entirely at His Majesty's disposal."