The frightened inhabitants, who were conversing in little groups, scattered to right and left, and windows were opened and heads thrust out as the horsemen clattered past. The Palace gates were open, and dashing through them they pulled up their smoking horses at the great doors.
In the hall the servants, male and female, were crowded, their faces showing inactive stupidity. They fell apart and gave room for Dasso and the lieutenant as they made their way up the wide marble staircase. Reaching the corridor above, they turned to the right in the direction of the death-chamber.
"This is unseemly conduct, Señor Dasso. My uncle is barely dead." Armand was standing before them, a naked blade in his hand.
"It seems so, gentlemen. This is a curious way to pay one's respect to the dead."
"I did not intend that you should, Señor Dasso. Put up your weapon, Mozara, the guards are within call."
"Your Majesty's appearance is timely. The people will be calling for you. They will want to greet the new king."
"Perhaps you will lend me the notes of your own speech for the occasion, Dasso; I am rather unprepared. Besides, I do not act for myself, I act for the Queen."
"I said 'the Queen,' Señor Dasso. To-night's blunder is not the only one you have made--you made one fifteen years ago when you did your hellish work in this palace."
"You have taken service early, prince, under the banner of this adventuress, this----"
"Señor Dasso," Armand was speaking quietly, "the Queen has ordered that there shall be no bloodshed here to-night. You are forgetting yourself." He called, and four of the royal guard came from a passage behind him.
"Show these gentlemen out. Dasso, I have no royal rank now, and can call you to account for this--by the bye," he added, as the guard closed round the discomfited men, "there will be a special edition of the _Imparcial_ to-morrow morning. It will interest you."
The escort left them at the door and Dasso and Mozara stood undecided on the great steps. Then, leaving their horses, they walked towards the gates. Once out of sight of the building, however, they stopped. Dasso was gnawing at his moustache in impotent fury.
"They told me he was better at seven o'clock. The nurse herself told me. What cursed luck." They walked on again, taking a path that led into the shrubberies. For, perhaps, five minutes they strode on in silence, then the lieutenant halted and caught at his companion's arm.