Fathers and sons -- Fiction; People with disabilities -- Fiction; Princes -- Fiction; Refugees -- Fiction
By the time he turned the corner of the stairs, the beautiful lady had
risen from her seat in the back room and walked into the dining-room at
the front. A heavily-built, dark-bearded man was standing inside the
door as if waiting for her.
"I could do nothing with him," she said at once, in her soft voice,
speaking quite prettily and gently, as if what she said was the most
natural thing in the world. "I managed the little trick of the sprained
foot really well, and got him into the house. He is an amiable boy with
perfect manners, and I thought it might be easy to surprise him into
saying more than he knew he was saying. You can generally do that with
children and young things. But he either knows nothing or has been
trained to hold his tongue. He's not stupid, and he's of a high spirit.
I made a pathetic little scene about Samavia, because I saw he could be
worked up. It did work him up. I tried him with the Lost Prince rumor;
but, if there is truth in it, he does not or will not know. I tried to
make him lose his temper and betray something in defending his father,
whom he thinks a god, by the way. But I made a mistake. I saw that. It's
a pity. Boys can sometimes be made to tell anything." She spoke very
quickly under her breath. The man spoke quickly too.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"I sent him up to the drawing-room to look for a book. He will look for
a few minutes. Listen. He's an innocent boy. He sees me only as a gentle
angel. Nothing will _shake_ him so much as to hear me tell him the truth
suddenly. It will be such a shock to him that perhaps you can do
something with him then. He may lose his hold on himself. He's only a
boy."
"You're right," said the bearded man. "And when he finds out he is not
free to go, it may alarm him and we may get something worth while."
"If we could find out what is true, or what Loristan thinks is true, we
should have a clue to work from," she said.
"We have not much time," the man whispered. "We are ordered to Bosnia at
once. Before midnight we must be on the way."
"Let us go into the other room. He is coming."
When Marco entered the room, the heavily-built man with the pointed dark
beard was standing by the easy-chair.
"I am sorry I could not find the book," he apologized. "I looked on all
the tables."
"I shall be obliged to go and search for it myself," said the Lovely
Person.
She rose from her chair and stood up smiling. And at her first movement
Marco saw that she was not disabled in the least.
"Your foot!" he exclaimed. "It's better?"
"It wasn't hurt," she answered, in her softly pretty voice and with her
softly pretty smile. "I only made you think so."
It was part of her plan to spare him nothing of shock in her sudden
transformation. Marco felt his breath leave him for a moment.
"I made you believe I was hurt because I wanted you to come into the
house with me," she added. "I wished to find out certain things I am
sure you know."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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