It was empty. A smile crossed his face as he thought
of the difficulty Leopold might encounter the following morning in
convincing his jailers that he was not the American.
Then he recalled his reflection in the cheval glass and frowned.
Could Leopold convince them? He doubted it--and what then? The
American was sentenced to be shot at dawn. They would shoot the king
instead. Then there would be none to whom to return the kingship.
What would he do with it? The temptation was great. Again a throne
lay within his grasp--a throne and the woman he loved. None might
ever know unless he chose to tell--his resemblance to Leopold was
too perfect. It defied detection.
With an exclamation of impatience he wheeled about and dragged the
frightened monarch back to the room from which he had stolen him. As
he entered he heard a knock at the door.
"Do not disturb me now," he called. "Come again in half an hour."
"But it is Her Highness, Princess Emma, sire," came a voice from
beyond the door. "You summoned her."
"She may return to her apartments," replied Barney.
All the time he kept his revolver leveled at the king, from his eyes
he had removed the blind after they had entered the apartment. He
crossed to the table where the king had been sitting when he
surprised him, motioning the ragged ruler to follow and be seated.
"Take that pen," he said, "and write a full pardon for Mr.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289