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The travelers took with them Alexis' supply of Magic Wine. With the truce in effect until Eugénie left the country, it could be safely transported to the frontier.
The Tsaritsa's coach, and a contingent of Cossacks, including Orlov, met them at the new railroad terminus on the Russian side. At Lake Baikal, it was attached to the Trans- Siberian Express and transferred at Moscow to the St. Petersburg line.
Orlov sought out Brad and heard of Romelle's marriage.
"I expect to marry someday," he told Brad privately, "I shall give my future wife everything of myself I have to give, but a tiny chamber at the back of my mind will always be occupied by the memory of Romelle. It would be unforgivable for me to forget the first woman who opened my heart to love."
"Yes," Brad agreed, "I understand that very well. Do you know, Orlov, I didn't like you so much the first time around. Now, I find you're quite a likable fellow."
Orlov grinned. "That's because you loved and lost her, too!"
When they arrived at Tsarskoe Selo, Brad delivered Chavadzy's ashes to the Tsar.
"They considered burying him at the base of the escarpment below the Golden City," he explained, "but we believed he would want to come home. He won many friends in Mongolia, Sir. He was a brave man."
Alone in his study that evening, Nicholas took the capsule of crane poison he had reserved in case of further betrayal by Chavadzy and threw it into the fire.
You chose a better way to leave this world, he mused. You died in defense of your friends.
Brad traveled with the Empress to Southampton aboard the Thistle. After delivering her to Farnborough Hill, he sailed on the aging Ora Nelle II to Baltimore.
Michael Foley's death had revealed how brilliant his management of Philo's company had been. Everything was in order for the transfer of power.
Brad assumed command after President Taft secured his release from the Marines. He took up residence in the house on North Charles.
"I would like to stay here for awhile, if you don't mind," he told Bridget and Kathy. "It's a wonderful house, but it brings back memories I would like to forget. I'm a bachelor and probably will be for a long, long time. I might build myself a flat over the Duncan Cargo office. It's nice down there on the wharf - fresh, clean air, the cries of sea birds, fog horns on the bay."
"Since my father died," Kathy said wistfully, "I've longed for the sound of a man's hearty laughter. He was always cheerful, no matter what his problems were during the day. I would be at work in my studio and hear that lilting sound in the downstairs hall...oh, we do miss him! It's lovely that you're here, Brad. Welcome home!"
She excused herself to continue a sculpture and went to her studio upstairs.
Bridget took Brad into the parlor for brandy.
"There he is," she said, "the man whose actions set the course of all our lives."
They stood before the Civil War portrait of Philo above the mantel.
"My grandfather was a great man," Brad averred. "I'd like to have been here the day Little Bart and Annie saw this portrait for the first time. Uncle Bart tells it as if it were a fairy tale. 'Once upon a time, when Abraham Lincoln was President of the United States.....,' he begins, and the tears never fail to fall when he echoes Annie's words, 'Dat be Mastah Angel Hair!'"
Bridget sighed.
In November of that year, 1911, stunning news was delivered to the house on North Charles.
It came when Brad was going over some old papers in Philo's study.
Bridget rushed in with a cablegram.
"The delivery boy was impressed. He says this came all the way from Mongolia! Oh, Lord, I hope it isn't bad news!"
The Irish lass who had taught Bart the art of love when both were young was accounted among the wittiest and most charming of hostesses in Baltimore society. Trim and fit, her red hair showed no trace of gray. Michael had never been sorry he married her, even though he realized that Bart still occupied a place in her heart. He considered it no betrayal. She had been a good wife to him, and a wonderful mother to Kathy.
"Cablegrams always frighten me," she said anxiously when she passed the envelope to Brad. "I've lived on pins and needles for so many years waiting for him to come home that I....."
Struck by the telling look on her face, Brad paused. It had never occurred to him that she harbored such depth of feeling for Bart. It was a stunning revelation.
Opening the cable then, he gave her a running commentary. "It comes from Dragon's Heart. Uncle Bart's put in a telegraph line from Urga. The valley can now communicate with the world! The next step, he says, is telephones. He's making arrangements to turn over everything there to Doctor Dash. He asks me to talk to the people at Johns Hopkins here in town about his endowing and operating an experimental lab at the university."
He looked up.
"Bridget," he announced softly, "Uncle Bart is coming home."
Her face a study in relief and joy, she dropped into a chair. "Thank the good Lord fer great favors! When, oh, when will that be?"
"That depends on this other piece of news," Brad went on, returning to the cable. "He says there's word from North China that the Chinese have risen in rebellion against the Manchus. As soon as it's all over, he'll be on his way here."
"And my Romy?" Bridget queried. "What does he say of our Princess of the East?"
"She's fine," he replied. "There's only one worrisome note."
A hint of panic showed in Bridget's face. "What would that be, Brad?"
"With the trouble in China, no one knows what's going to happen next. People are skittish. Every finger is on the trigger of a gun. Bart's taking Romy out of the valley."
Bridget gasped. "Where are they going? Will they be safe?"
"I hope so," mused Brad. "They are going to the Sacred City to stay in the palace of the Living Buddha. I guess that's the safest place they could be unless the Manchus decide to...well, we won't think about that."
Bridget turned pale and made the sign of the cross.
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