A Prize for Princes by Rex Stout

Author:Rex Stout [Stout, Rex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, adventure, historical, Europe, England
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2002-10-31T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

THE GENERAL RUNS AN ERRAND

If anyone in Marisi had been asked what was the most interesting room in the palace of their prince, the answer would have been: “The one at the rear of the main corridor on the left, on the second floor.” And if they had been further questioned why, they would have replied, “Because no one is ever allowed to enter it.”

In this room, which the prince permitted no one to enter, he was seated alone on the morning of the day of the events narrated in the preceding chapter. There appeared to be nothing in the room or about it that would justify the mysterious exclusion of the curious; nor, in fact, was there.

On three of its sides were shelves of books, above which hung paintings and etchings, distributed in a somewhat haphazard fashion. On the fourth side, which faced the drive, were three double windows and a wide-open fireplace. A large table was in the center, heaped with books and papers.

The fact was that the prince, who found himself in a position considerably more public than he would naturally have wished, had simply chosen this den as a retreat from the importunities of subjects and sycophants.

The prince was half sitting, half reclining, in a big easy chair placed between the table and the fireplace. His eyes were closed and his chest moved regularly up and down with his breathing; it might have been thought that he was in reality asleep.

But young De Mide, his secretary, would at once have noticed the two little lines of wrinkles extending across the high white forehead, and would have known from that sign that his master was engaged in deep and profound consideration of some weighty and important subject.

Suddenly the prince opened his eyes, sat up, and rose to his feet with a short laugh greatly resembling a grunt—certain indications, De Mide would have said, that he had reached a decision. He left the room, walked down the corridor to its farther end, and mounted a flight of stairs on the left. In the corridor above, he halted before a door at about its middle and knocked on it sharply.

A voice sounded: “Come in.”

The prince entered.

As he did so, General Paul Nirzann jumped up from a chair he had been occupying near the window and bowed halfway to the ground.

“Ah! Your highness, I am honored.”

“You usually are,” said the prince dryly. “As, for instance, last evening.”

The general looked at him with a deprecatory air, saying: “The decision was left with your highness.”

“I know, but you had already decided for me.”

“Is that possible? I beg your highness’s pardon; I simply made a request.”

“Yes, and it led to another offense for poor old Duchesne, whom you hate, but who nevertheless loves me as well as you do.”

The face of the little general grew red with indignation.

“You will pardon me, your highness,” he cried, “but that pig of a Duchesne has never—”

The prince interrupted him.

“That will do, Nirzann. You are hardly to blame, after all, for I really believe that young Naumann was in the right.

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