“One thing at a time, and for the moment we’re talking about my case. Yes—” I spoke with intentional slowness, as if thinking it out—“yes, I shall cable him to hurry over. I wonder I never thought of it. If I can’t get to the Emperor, he can, right away; and if he don’t make it an international affair inside two shakes, then I don’t know my own father. That treason charge was just a lovely thought of yours, Prince.”
The Prince rose. I had turned the tables on him at his own bluff, but like a good player he kept his end up.
“We do not allow prisoners to have the use of our telegraphs, monsieur,” he said nastily.
“The Embassy can send it in cypher. Same thing,” I replied unconcerned. “The worse you make things for me, the bigger the fuss when it does get out.”
He turned from me to Helga.
“You will go back to your cell, and you and M. Denver will not meet again, mademoiselle,” he declared, like the bully he was.
“I am quite ready,” she answered, not flinching a hair’s breadth; “now that I have heard what is to happen;” and she rose and met his look steadily.
And we stood thus a space in silence. Both sides recognized that the situation was just bluff. I had shown him the rottenness of his position; and he knew that, despite my easy words, I was anxious to get the thing arranged without any of the trouble I had outlined. And yet neither was willing to take the first step down.
Then I offered him a bridge.
“Is this worth while, Prince?” I asked very quietly.