“Not at all,” said Anthony. “I’m trying to be helpful. Supply and demand, you understand. It’s all perfectly fair and square. No Princes supplied unless genuine—see trademark. If we come to terms, you’ll find it’s quite all right. I’m offering you the real genuine article—out of the bottom drawer.”
“Not in the least,” the Baron declared again, “do I comprehend you.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” said Anthony kindly. “I just want you to get used to the idea. To put it vulgarly, I’ve got something up my sleeve. Just get hold of this. You want a Prince. Under certain conditions, I will undertake to supply you with one.”
The Baron and Andrassy stared at him. Anthony took up his hat and stick again and prepared to depart.
“Just think it over. Now, Baron, there is one thing further. You must come down to Chimneys this evening—Captain Andrassy also. Several very curious things are likely to happen there. Shall we make an appointment? Say in the Council Chamber at nine o’clock? Thank you, gentlemen, I may rely upon you to be there?”
The Baron took a step forward and looked searchingly in Anthony’s face.
“Mr. Cade,” he said, not without dignity, “it is not, I hope, that you wish to make fun of me?”
Anthony returned his gaze steadily.
“Baron,” he said, and there was a curious note in his voice, “when this evening is over, I think you will be the first to admit that there is more earnest than jest about this business.”
Bowing to both the men, he left the room.