in the faint distance he could hear the strains ofmusic.
Suddenly, however, he saw a figure in white approaching, and a momentlater Lola was at his side.
"Follow me," she said hastily. "Follow me at a distance--to Villanova'sroom. No one will be there."
General Villanova was Minister of the Royal Household.
And she went on, he lounging leisurely after her at a distance.
A couple of minutes afterwards he found himself with her in a small roomwhere a coal fire burned brightly--the private office of the Controllerof the Household.
"Well," she echoed eagerly. "You have seen him--eh? When did youreturn?"
"To-night," Waldron replied. "He has sent you this," and from thebreast of his uniform coat he drew the letter from her lover, HenriPujalet.
With eager fingers she carried the note across to the shadedreading-lamp upon the table, and tearing it open, read the message itcontained.
Hugh stood watching the expression of her pale, anxious face. It wentinstantly white as the dress she wore; her pale lips slowly parted, andin her splendid eyes was an expression of such horror that he had neverseen in any person's eyes before.
For a second she seemed transfixed by the words written there.
Next second, with an almost superhuman effort, she summoned all herself-composure. Her slim, nervous fingers crushed the letter, and witha quick movement she crossed to the fire near which Hubert was standingand cast the message into the flames.
Hubert Waldron had acted as Cupid's messenger, but whatever thePrincess's secret lover had written, it apparently gave her graveconcern.
She stood, her left hand pressed to her heaving chest, a strangelypathetic little figure in her Court dress and glittering diamond crossupon her corsage. Her great, wonderful eyes were fixed upon themoss-green carpet, and he saw that she was trembling as though in fear.
"Your Highness is distressed," he remarked in a low voice full ofsympathy. "Cannot I assist you further?"
"Distressed!" she cried, turning quickly upon him with her eyes flashingsuddenly. "Distressed!" she echoed. "Ah, Mr Waldron, you do not knowhow crushing is this blow that has fallen upon me! I have done--my--very best--what I believed to be for the best, but--ah, _Dio_!--all islost--lost--ah!--I--I--" And reeling suddenly, she clutched wildly atair and would have fallen forward had he not sprung up to prevent her.
He took her in his strong arms and carried her insensible form to thehigh couch near the window, whereon he laid her tenderly.
Then he looked around bewildered, not knowing how next to act.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
REVEALS HUBERT'S SECRET.
Water was needed, he knew, though he had had but little experience ofcases such as this.
Upon the Minister's writing-table stood a silver bowl full of pale pinktulips, and these he threw out quickly and began to sprinkle HerHighness's hard-set countenance.
But to no avail.
For some minutes he tried frantically to restore her. He dared not ringfor the servants, as it would no doubt compromise her to be found alonewith him in that room. There were alas! sufficient wild stories afloatabout her already, and no doubt if she were discovered there with himthe fact would, in an hour, reach His Majesty's ears.
In such case what explanation could he give without telling absolutelies? Besides, did not His Majesty repose the utmost confidence in him,and that confidence must assuredly be shaken.
Absolutely helpless he stood gazing upon her prostrate figure and tryingin vain to seek a solution of the difficulty.
If she would only regain consciousness in order that he could ring thebell and leave her. But, alas! she was insensible, and no amount ofwater upon her face would revive her. Of smelling-salts or otherrestoratives there were none. So he was compelled to remain thereinactive and impatient.
What could be the nature of the message she had received from that manwho, though a Frenchman, was posing in Brussels as Slavo Petrovitch, aServian from Belgrade? It must have been a most disquieting one to haveso upset her as to cause her to faint. A girl who knew no fear, who wasnaturally athletic and strong-minded, who drove her car through thenight alone and unattended, and who, travelling to the north incognita,had won a motor-cycle race, was not the sort of person to faint at anynews which did not gravely concern herself.
Was it possible, he wondered, that Henri Pujalet had written abandoningher?
That was the impression which forced itself upon him. The Frenchmancertainly could not know her real title and position. Pujalet no doubtbelieved, as he himself had believed, that Lola was a poor dependent.Hence it was quite probable that he had met some other woman and infavour of her had abandoned Lola.
Yet, as he stood there wondering he recollected the love-scene that hotstifling night beneath the palms in the far-off Sudan, how her lover hadheld her so passionately to his breast and smothered her face with hiskisses. And how she, too, had stroked his cheeks tenderly with both hersoft hands.
Yes. They, no doubt, loved each other, and perhaps, after all, he wasmisjudging that man to whom she had given her affection.
Thoughts of Beatriz, too, flashed across his mind. How different wasthe pale recumbent figure in white to that dashing Andalusian dancer!
He dropped upon one knee at the side of the couch, looked intently uponthe white unconscious countenance, and held his breath.
"Lola!" he whispered, but so low that sound hardly passed his feveredlips. "I love you, darling! I love you, though you shall never know,because our love is forbidden. Alas! it could only bring grief, sorrow,and disaster upon both of us. But--ah, my God! I love you--_I loveyou_!"
And slowly and reverently he took the inert hand which he held in hisand raising it to his lips, kissed it with all the mad, ardent passionof his stifled affection.
For some minutes he remained there kneeling by her side, stroking herbare white arm and kissing her soft little hand. Sorely tempted was heto kiss her upon the lips, but by dint of self-restraint he held himselfback.
She was unconscious, and to kiss her would be to take an unfairadvantage.
But time and again he repeated those fervent whispered words, sometimesso loud that they could actually be heard in the room.
"Lola! I love you! I love you, darling. I love you--though you cannever be mine!"
He was bending over her hand in silence, a great lump having arisen inhis throat, while in his eyes were unshed tears. The blank hopelessnessof his mad passion had been forced upon him. There were two reasons.She loved the young Frenchman, and again she, a Princess of the House ofSavoy, could never marry a mere foreign diplomat.
No, he must again crush down all his intense love for her; again remainher sincere and most devoted friend.
Once more he bent till his lips reverently touched her cold hand, but atthat moment he heard a movement behind him, and, turning, saw a short,white-haired man in Court uniform, with the crimson and white ribbon ofthe Order of the Crown of Italy at his throat.
Waldron started quickly.
The man who had entered noiselessly and stood there watching him wasnone other than the man who, up the Nile, had passed as Lola's uncle,Jules Gigleux--but whose real name was Luigi Ghelardi, the most renownedSecret Service Chief in Europe.
"Well, signore," exclaimed the shrewd, cunning old man in Italian withhis grey brows knit, "this is certainly a surprise! I did not expectwhen I entered here in search of His Excellency the General that Ishould make this very interesting discovery?"
Waldron sprang to his feet much confused and altered in the samelanguage:
"Her Highness has unfortunately fainted."
"And you were trying to restore her--eh?" he laughed with bittersarcasm.
There was a look of distinct evil in the man's small cunning eyes.
"Yes. And I have failed," Waldron answered.
"Had you not better ring for the servants? I think so."
And the chief spy of Italy pressed the electri
c button near at hand.
In response, a tall sentry appeared at once and saluted.
"I want one of the maids of the household instantly. Her Royal Highnesshas fainted."
"_Si, signore_," was the man's reply, saluting, again turning likeclockwork and disappearing.
"I must confess, Signor Waldron," exclaimed Ghelardi, very severely,"that I am greatly surprised to discover you here, and in such aposition as I found you."
"And I am equally surprised, Signor Ghelardi, to discover your realidentity," was the diplomat's reply. "For a number of years, as Chiefof the German Service, you were the arch-enemy of my country. That isnot forgotten, even though you have returned to the land of your birth,and taken service again under your own King."
"It appears that your attitude is the reverse of friendly, signore," wasthe antagonistic reply of the man with the bristly hair, who looked muchmore French than