"If our paths cross again, one of
us shall go on alone."
"I should be very lonely without you," laughed the Prince. "However,
rest yourself. As the King remarked, your face recalls unpleasant
memories. Our paths shall not cross again."
When the innkeeper and the Chancellor were out of earshot, I said: "She
is mine!"
"Not yet," the Prince said softly. "On Tuesday morn I shall kill you."
CHAPTER XXII
The affair caused considerable stir. The wise men of diplomacy shook
their heads over it and predicted grave things in store for
Hohenphalia. Things were bad enough as they were, but to have a woman
with American ideas at the head--well, it was too dreadful to think of.
And the correspondents created a hubbub. The news was flashed to
Paris, to London, thence to New York, where the illustrated weeklies
printed full-page pictures of the new Princess who had but a few months
since been one of the society belles. And everybody was wondering who
the "journalist" in the case was. The Chancellor smiled and said
nothing. Mr. Wentworth said nothing and smiled. A cablegram from New
York alarmed me.
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