"
"My thanks," said the Captain, with a jerky nod. "Max, come,
give me the whole story."
And Scharfenstein dropped into a chair and recounted in
picturesque diction the adventure; how they had remained by the
royal carriage till the nurse, recovering from her faint, had
rushed out and told them of the abduction; and the long race on
the south shore. While he listened the Captain smoked
thoughtfully; and when the story was done, he rose and wagged
his head.
"Call it revenge," he said, "if it strikes you in that light.
Monsieur Carewe, what is your opinion?"
"It occurs to me," answered Maurice, rubbing the scratch the
late Colonel's sword had left on his chin, "it occurs to me that
the man played his hand a few days too late."
"Which is to say?"
"Well, I do not call it revenge," Maurice admitted, unwilling to
venture any theory.
"No more do I;" and the Captain began drumming on the mantel.
"What say, Max; how would the illustrious Colonel look with the
shadow of a crown on his head? He comes from Austria, who, to my
thinking, is cognizant of all he does and has done."
The answer was not spoken.
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