At length, she came to the table and, dropping languidly into a
chair, rested her elbow on the arm and, with chin in hand, stared into
vacancy.
Presently, there was a sharp knock at the corridor door. She glanced
quickly at the clock--then, picked up a book and, sinking back in easy
posture, assumed to read.
"Entrez," she called, without looking up.
The door opened instantly and a man entered. A long military cloak was
over his plain evening dress; one fold was raised to hide his face. He
dropped it as he closed the door.
Mrs. Spencer lowered her book--then arose with all the sinuous grace
she knew so well how to assume.
"Welcome, Your Royal Highness," she said, and curtsied very low. "It
was good of you to come."
The Duke of Lotzen tossed off his cloak--and, coming quickly over, took
her hand and kissed it.
"It was more than good of you to let me come," he answered.
"I feared you might not get my note," she said. "I believe I am under
constant surveillance."
He smiled. "Even the Secret Police would hesitate to tamper with my
mail," he said.
"That was my hope," she answered.
He looked at her steadily, a moment.
"I am always ready to be a--hope to you," he said.
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