“The reception at the railway station was planned by Prince Kalkov, who knew of my coming and had heard from His Majesty of the strange resemblance between us.”
“Really, Prince Kalkov is more subtle than I thought him. Well then, M. American, what do you propose to do?”
She stopped and looked me full in the face with a smiling challenge. It was plain as the Statue of Liberty that she didn’t believe a word of my explanation.
“I wish to discuss the situation with you frankly. I wish you to believe that what I now say is absolutely true; and further, if you will accept them, to place my services for what they are worth entirely at your disposal. I would do anything to serve you and to atone in some way for this deception of mine.”
“You ask me what is impossible,” she answered readily.
“You decline my assistance?”
“No; I cannot believe your explanation—your confession, as you termed it. I cannot; oh, I cannot;” and she laughed and shook her head.
“I can only repeat it is the truth,” I said seriously.
“I will be very frank with you and show you how it strikes me. You act it now quite as cleverly as you acted the Emperor last night. You will recall your little slips into the Imperial character; your manner in dealing with M. Boreski, and again with M. Drexel. Well, you find that to go away from here would compel me to deal with the compromising papers—and in that I was and am entirely in earnest; nothing can move me—and then you think by admitting this deception you can gain indirectly what you naturally want and cannot get directly—that is, time. I speak very bluntly, I fear, but this is so much to me that I must do so. And I tell you this second move has failed as signally as your first last night. I ask you to retract your—confession, monsieur.”
“We seem to be getting deeper into the maze. What I have told you this morning is the truth, mademoiselle.”