Louis Delgado awaited Jusseret in an agony of doubt and fear.
The Frenchman was late. A dispatch from the frontier had announced his
coming, but to the anxiety of Delgado delays seemed numberless and
interminable.
At last an aide ushered him into the apartment where the new Monarch
waited, his inevitable glass of Pernod and anisette twisting in his
fingers. Jusseret bowed.
"Where is Martin?" inquired the King.
"Dead," said the newcomer briefly. The Pretender paled palpably.
Evidently the plan had gone awry. Fear always stood near the fore, ready
to rush out upon Delgado's timid spirit.
"And being dead," resumed the Frenchman, "he is much safer."
Louis gave a half-shuddering sigh of relief. He had none of that
righteous horror of crime which makes the face of murder hideous, but in
its place he had all the terrors of the weak, and playing with life and
death gave him over to panic.
"I should suggest an announcement that King Karyl had fled for a time
from the cares of State and was traveling as a private gentleman in
strictest incognito, when sudden death overtook him. There need be no
hint of violence. There must be a State funeral."
"Where is the body?" objected Louis.
Jusseret shrugged his shoulders.
"That I cannot say. I can, however, assure you that it is quite
lifeless. Since the death occurred some days ago the lying in State may
be dispensed with. A closed casket is sufficient."
"And his Queen?"
"That point is left unguarded, but from intimations I have received, I
believe the Queen will be satisfied with private life. If you announce
her abdication, she will hardly contradict you."
"And Von Ritz?" persisted Louis, with the manner of one who wishes all
the ghosts which terrify him laid by someone stronger and less afraid of
ghosts than himself.
"Leave Von Ritz to me. He is no fool. Von Ritz knows who instigated the
murder of the King, but he is without proof. The thing happened far
beyond the borders of Galavia."
Louis rose unsteadily from his chair.
"Jusseret," he began, "this interview with Marie still confronts me and
I dread it. Would it not be better for you to explain to her? You could
persuade her that Kings are not free in these matters, that crowned
heads from antiquity to Napoleon have been compelled to obey the
dictates of State."
The Frenchman stiffened.
"Your Majesty," he observed, "it is impossible. Your attachment for the
Countess Astaride is a personal matter. I am concerned only in affairs
of State. I must even require of you, in respect to that confidence
which obtains between gentlemen, that you shall in no wise intimate that
this suggestion came from me."