“Tell me,” I asked laughingly, “did you bring me to this room for the sheer joy of gloating over my nearness to this toy that I have been struggling to possess for the past month, knowing how impossibly far it was from me? Did it afford you so much pleasure to play with me, to tease me, that you pushed your game so dangerously far? If so, you are an artist, my dear duke.”
“Mr. Hume is generous in his compliments.”
“Or,” I continued, thrusting my face nearer to his, “am I mistaken in thinking that most of your words and deeds are spoken and acted with some purpose in view?”
“For example?” he asked lightly.
“For example,” I repeated, “it was hardly for love of me that you spoke to me this afternoon.”
“Hardly,” he sneered, pale with rage and disappointment. “Rather because I hated you so much that I wished to amuse myself at your expense.”
“Or is there a third possibility?” I continued scornfully. “That you wished to avenge yourself? While you were taunting me with St. Hilary’s perfidy, or his supposed perfidy, the idea occurred to you that if you could induce me to come to your rooms, if you could hold me there while you sent Luigi for the gendarmes, you might have me committed to jail for assault, perhaps, or complicity in breaking into your rooms. On the whole, I am inclined to think that this view of the case is the most reasonable.”
“As you will, Mr. Hume,” he answered, his lips white and trembling.
“Now listen to me, Duke da Sestos. Granting that I am correct, the gendarmes will be here presently. Luigi has been gone some time. Before they come, I wish to put the case clearly before you. This casket and these jewels belong neither to me nor to you. They are the property of the state. When your gendarmes come, be sure I shall make that clear.”
“Pooh! I have always known that you were a fool,” he cried contemptuously.