“That’s only putting the riddle a different way;” and Helga slipped her arm into mine and clasped her hands on it.
“What is it?” asked Marvyn, seriously.
I had before observed his keen scent for trouble from afar. The serious side of things always appealed first to him.
“He threatens,” I repeated.
“Haven’t we had enough problems lately?” and Helga wrinkled her brows in half comical perplexity. “But I can wait quite calmly.”
“He wants to make out that as the daughter of a prince and his friend, you ought to be considered a kind of Imperial ward to whose marriage his consent was necessary; so that——”
Helga interrupted me with a laugh.
“I knew it was nonsense.”
“I don’t see that under the circumstances such a claim could be maintained,” declared Marvyn gravely.
“And further that Helga cannot be Mrs. Denver.”