You're the
surgeon; you prescribe the treatment and I'll see that it is followed.
Now drive on with the story."
"It begins with a letter, a photograph, a handkerchief, three American
Beauty roses--all in the cab of the sleeping horse--"
"God bless my soul!" exclaimed the Secretary.
"--at one o'clock on Massachusetts Avenue and Eighteenth Street."
"Is the horse still asleep, Harleston?"
"The horse awoke, and straightway went to his stand in Dupont Circle!"
Harleston laughed and related the incidents of the night and early
morning, finishing his account in the Secretary's private office.
"Most amazing!" the latter reflected, eyes half-closed as though seeing
a mental picture of it all.
Then he picked up the photograph and studied it awhile.
"So this is the wonderful Madeline Spencer--who came so near to throwing
our friend, the King of Valeria, out of his Archdukeship, and later from
his throne. I remember the matter most distinctly. I was a friend of the
Dalberg family of the Eastern Shore, and of Armand Dalberg himself." He
paused, and looked again at the picture. "H-u-m! She is a very beautiful
woman, Harleston, a very beautiful woman! I think I have never seen her
equal; certainly never her superior.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62