"That is what you shall have," said Vernon, and passed his hand across his forehead.
"It occurs to me," put in Collins, icily, "that the story is not wholly yours to tell."
"It isn't?" cried Vernon, turning upon him fiercely. "I suppose I'm to permit myself to remain in this damnable position for the sake of a lot of third-rate diplomats in our foreign office! They can go hang, for all I care. I chuck the whole thing! Do you hear? Do you understand? The whole thing!"
Collins turned away with a shrug of despair. The situation had got beyond his control.
"It is an explanation which I owe to the Prince of Markeld as well as to yourself, Mr. Rushford," went on Vernon, more slowly, speaking calmly by a great effort, "and which I was just about to make to him when you came in. I am not Lord Vernon—I am merely his younger brother. I bear a certain resemblance to him, and a lot of paper-diplomats persuaded me to impersonate him here in order to leave him free to carry out the negotiations for the succession to Schloshold-Markheim without being embarrassed by the representations of either side. I recall how half-heartedly he approved of the scheme, which had its origin in the fertile brain of Mr. Collins there. I see the reason now, though I didn't suspect it then. As to the succession, Monsieur le Prince, for all I know, the whole thing may by this time be settled. Collins could probably tell you, if he would—"
"It is not settled,'' muttered Collins.
"So you see," went on Vernon without heeding him, "I have done you an even greater wrong than you imagined."
"Yes," said the Prince, in a hoarse voice, "you have."
"But settled or not," said the other, "I wash my hands of it! I've had enough!"
Rushford held out his hand with a quick gesture.