"Impossible!" he murmured, hoarsely. "Impossible!"
"How impossible!" cried the Prince, violently. "Do you presume to contradict me? Do you dare to dispute my word when I tell you that I myself have seen Lord Vernon; when I describe his condition to you? He was most courteous, though he could not speak above a whisper—he treated me more kindly than I deserved, when one considers the wording of that note I sent to him, for which I was glad to apologise! One could see he was in no condition to give me audience—to discuss business of any kind! He could scarcely sit erect!"
"Oh, there is some knavery!" cried Tellier, his face purple. "I know it!
I scent it!"
"You are, then, infallible, I suppose!" retorted the Prince. "His physician assured me that in a week Lord Vernon would be much better—nearly well; he suggested that for a week I do not press my business."
"But you did not agree!" screamed Tellier. "Your Highness did not agree!"
"Most certainly I agreed. Not to agree would have been to insult them yet a second time!"
"A week!" groaned Tellier, throwing up his hands, with a gesture of despair. "Then all is lost!"
"How lost?" demanded Markeld, red with anger. "In what way lost? Have a care of what you say!"
Tellier controlled himself by a mighty effort and managed to speak with some approach to calmness.
"The German Emperor will not waste a week, Your Highness. That is not his way, as you very well know. He will be at work every hour—every minute!"