In spite of it he shuddered.
"We won't follow," he said. "Bram and his wolves will attend to
the trimmings, and he'll come back when the job is finished.
Meanwhile we'll get a little start for home, eh? I'm tired of this
cabin. Forty days and nights--UGH! it was HELL. Have you a spare
pipeful of tobacco, Phil? If you have--let's see, where did I
leave off in that story about Princess Celie and the Duke of
Rugni?"
"The--the--WHAT?"
"Your tobaeco, Phil!"
In a dazed fashion Philip handed his tobacco pouch to the Swede.
"You said--Princess Celie--the Duke of Rugni--"
Olaf nodded as he stuffed his pipe bowl.
"That's it. Armin is the Duke of Rugni, whatever Rugni is. He was
chased off to Siberia a good many years ago, when Celie was a kid,
that somebody else could get hold of the Dukedom. Understand?
Millions in it, I suppose. He says some of Rasputin's old friends
were behind it, and that for a long time he was kept in the
dungeons of the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, with the Neva
River running over his head.
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