“Who are you?” inquired the dismayed man.
“That is of no consequence. You see my uniform—let that be enough for you.”
He staggered down the car. I followed, and we reached the car where the Princess was at the moment engaged, with Marie’s aid, in putting the last touches to her toilet.
She looked up at our appearance, gave an interrogative glance first at Menken and then, at me, and evidently made up her mind.
“What is it, gentlemen?”
“The—the paper I gave—that you offered to—that—in short, I want it immediately,” faltered my companion.
“I have no paper of yours, and I do not know what you are talking about, my friend,” said the Princess Y—— with the calmest air in the world.
Menken uttered a cry of despair.
“The letter, the letter I gave you last night—it was a letter from the Czar,” he exclaimed feebly.