"A ship or a fort—it shall be for France to choose."
Pachmann's fingers were twitching visibly to be at the other's throat. But by a mighty effort he controlled himself, flung himself again into his chair and poured himself out a glass of brandy from the bottle at his elbow.
"Will you drink?" he asked, over his shoulder.
"No, thank you," answered Vard.
The Prince sat without moving, still staring at the inventor. Meeting his eyes, Vard smiled slightly.
Pachmann set down his glass, and turned back to them.
"I must ask you to pardon me," he said. "I lost my self-control—a thing I do not often do—but your suggestions seemed to me insupportable. However, I can perceive that there is another side to them. I think we understand your proposal now, most thoroughly. There are certain details which the Prince and I must discuss together, before we can submit an answer. In a matter of such moment, we must proceed with the greatest care. This is Thursday. I think we can be ready by Saturday evening."
"Very well," agreed Vard, rising. "The same hour, in this room?"
"If that pleases you."
"It does."