Well, I'll give him the chance."
Even as she said it, like a flash, she seized a heavy glass vase from
the table and hurled it straight at the King.
It was not a woman's throw. Madeline Spencer had learned the man's
swing, in her Army days, and, had the vase struck home, the chances are
there would have been a new King in Dornlitz, that night.
And such was Lotzen's thought, for he smiled wickedly and glanced at me.
But, quick though she was, the King was quicker. He jerked his head
aside. The vase missed him by the fraction of an inch and crashed to
bits against the opposite wall.
Frederick turned and looked at the fragments, and at the cut in the
hangings.
"Madame is rather muscular," he observed, dryly.
"And Your Majesty is a clever dodger," she said, with sneering
indifference--then leaned back against the table, a hand on either side
of her.
"Is it possible you are not going?" she asked.
The King smiled. "Presently, my dear madame, presently. Meanwhile, I
pray you, have consideration for the ornaments and the wall."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"As I cannot expect the servants to forcibly eject their King, and as
the Duke of Lotzen dare not, I presume I'll have to submit to your
impertinent intrusion.
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