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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"

They would have waked the dead. I have an idea that I
forgot to use the flat of my sword; at least, the hospital
report confirms my suspicions. Ah, here comes Max."
"Her Royal Highness desires to thank Monsieur Carewe, and
commands that he be brought to her carriage."
Lieutenant von Mitter smiled, and Maurice stood up and brushed
himself. The troopers sprang into the saddle and started on a
walk, with Maurice bringing up behind on foot. The thought of
meeting the princess, together with his recent exertions,
created havoc with his nerves. When he arrived at the royal
carriage, his usual coolness forsook him. He fumbled with his
hat, tongue-tied. He stood in the Presence.
"Monsieur," said the Voice, "I thank you with all my heart for
your gallant service. Poor, poor dog!"
"It was nothing, your Highness; any man would have done the same
thing." The red in the wheel-spokes bothered his eyes.
"No, no! you must not belittle it."
"If it had not been for Lieutenant von Mitter--"
"Whither were you going, Monsieur?" interrupted the Voice.
"Nowhere; that is, I was going toward my hotel."
"The Continental?"
"Yes, your Highness.


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