"Are you the Prince Mastowix?" asked Barnwell, calmly.
"I am. Who are you?"
"William Barnwell, of New York, United States of America," said he proudly.
"Well, what have you to do or say to me?" asked the prince, haughtily.
"Only this, prince, and a very little. On the eve of leaving New York I was approached by one Paul Zobriskie—"
"Silence!" shouted the prince, and after waiting a moment, as though to recover himself, he waved his attendants from the room. Then, turning to Barnwell, he beckoned him approach nearer. "What did you say?" he asked, in a lower key.
"Simply what I said, sir; and to finish the business between us, allow me to deliver you this letter," said he, presenting to him, feeling somewhat aggrieved on account of the arrogant manner in which he was received both by the prince and his attendants.
The prince took the letter, and Barnwell was about to retire.
"Wait!" said the Prince, severely.
"My mission is fulfilled, sir."