‘Listen,’ said the Prince in his lightest whisper, ‘they are talking.’
‘Who?’
‘The Berlin lady and Miss Spencer. I’m sure it’s Miss Spencer’s voice.’
Racksole boldly pushed the french window a little wider open, and put his ear to the aperture, through which came a beam of yellow light.
‘Take my place,’ he whispered to the Prince, ‘they’re talking German. You’ll understand better.’
Silently they exchanged places under the window, and the Prince listened intently.
‘Then you refuse?’ Miss Spencer’s visitor was saying.
There was no answer from Miss Spencer.
‘Not even a thousand francs? I tell you I’ve lost the whole twenty-five thousand.’
Again no answer.