"At the door he met the young ladies whom he had rescued—the Americans; they recognised him—I could see their look of astonishment at perceiving him in the chair of an invalid, buried in rugs. They stared after him—the chair stopped—he wrote a few words on a piece of paper and sent it back to them. They read it with eyes even more astonished."
"Did you, by any chance, read it also?" inquired the Prince, with a deceptive calmness.
"No, Your Highness," Tellier replied, simply, quite unconscious of his danger. "I saw no way of doing that, unfortunately. I thought of snatching it away, but that would have created a turmoil, which is always to be avoided if possible. But Your Highness might easily gain possession of the note—"
The Prince stopped him with a fierce gesture of repugnance.
"Do you know what it is that you have the effrontery to propose to me?" he demanded.
The Frenchman paused in mid-sentence and swallowed with difficulty, his face very red.
"I am certain," he said, after a moment, "that those young ladies know it was Lord Vernon who rescued them. They would no doubt confirm this, if Your Highness would inquire—"
The Prince strode to the door and flung it open.
"Do not come back till you can speak without insulting me," he said, sternly.
"One moment, Your Highness!" cried Tellier. "But a moment! I have another proof. Oh, you are wrong not to believe me! You are wrong to yield to your anger!"