"What can he accomplish, if the British foreign office will do nothing?
Will he take the affair into his own hands? He will not dare!"
"He might dare, Your Highness; he has dared things more perilous than that. But how do we know the British foreign office will do nothing?"
"I tell you," repeated the Prince, hotly, "that Lord Vernon is a gentleman—something you do not seem to understand; that he is ill— something you seem to doubt!"
"In diplomacy, Your Highness, even a gentleman may sometimes lie, or, at least, disguise the truth. Perhaps even before this, he has hinted to the Emperor that he will not interfere, if he acts promptly—perhaps this illness is merely a ruse to avoid a situation the most awkward."
It was the Prince's turn to stride up and down, to pluck at his moustache, to go red and white.
"If I thought so!" he murmured hoarsely. "If I thought so!"
"There is some underhand work in progress," cried Tellier, growing more and more excited; "some trap, some piece of trickery—I know not what—but I am certain—I will find out!"
"If I thought so!" said the Prince again, and his face was not pleasant to look upon.
"For I repeat to Your Highness that I could not have been mistaken. It is impossible that I should have been mistaken. I saw Lord Vernon leap from his chair; I was as near it as I am to you at this moment; I saw him return to it and hide himself behind his paper, when he saw you approaching; I waited, and saw his lackeys come after him and lift him to the invalid chair. If I had not been certain before, I was certain then! I followed him back to the hotel. Yes!" he added, with sudden excitement, "and there was another circumstance which will confirm me!"
"Go on!" commanded Markeld, yielding somewhat before this torrent of proof.