“Before I returned,” I put in drily.
“He had to go to Moscow to meet the Crown Prince, you see.”
“Do you mean His Majesty is in Moscow?” I cried.
“Did you not know it? The servant should have told you this morning. These men are really addlepated fools,” he cried with an excellent indignation, as his sharp glittering eyes fixed on me. He was enjoying my momentary confusion, I am sure.
“No, I did not know it,” I answered, with difficulty smothering an oath.
“He was overwhelmed with regret that you had not returned before he went—the more so as he knew you would have left Petersburg before his return.” He continued to enjoy my discomfiture, for a moment, and then added lightly: “But at any rate there is one compensation for me. It will give ample time for me to hear your story, for which, as I told you, I am really impatient. Will you tell it here, or would you like to come to my apartments?”
“It doesn’t matter, one place is as good as another,” I answered, in any but an amiable tone.
I was no match for him at this game of fence. Already he had contrived to fill me with a kind of fearsome speculation as to how much he had managed to hear of my doings and concerning Helga. There was suggestiveness in every word he uttered, and every look and gesture he made.
“Why did the Emperor think I should not be in Petersburg on his return?” I asked after a pause. “You are perplexing me, Prince.”
“I told him so, my dear M. Denver,” he replied, as if frankly.