“It is impossible for you to remain, monsieur.”
“I have said my last word on that point, mademoiselle.”
Boreski had fidgetted uneasily as we spoke, and now intervened.
“You have heard, monsieur, what——”
“Silence, if you please, M. Boreski,” I cried with heat. “You do not understand. If I cannot comply with mademoiselle’s wishes, do you think I shall heed what you say? It is you, with your hot-headed quarrel with Drexel last night, who have brought about all this mess. And Heaven knows it is bad enough to satisfy any ordinary blunderer.”
Boreski fell back before my hot words and looks, but his wife was quick to take offence. She got up pale and angry.
“Either that spy is driven from the house, Helga, or I do not stay in it. I will not hear my husband insulted.”
It was like a woman of her type, of course, to put her oar in with such a silly splash and make things much worse. But it had the effect I wished. It forced Helga to defend me.
“You do not understand, Duchess. M. Denver is no spy. He came to us yesterday under equivocal circumstances, but this morning took the first moment to tell me he was not the—was no other than M. Denver, an American; and I in my blindness could not and did not believe it. It is I who am responsible. It is all a terrible tangle, but I will answer for him.”
“I thank you for that, mademoiselle. I was sure you would do me justice.” I was so happy at her words that I could easily afford to ignore the sneer with which the Duchess resumed her seat.