“There is still more to tell,” he said, “if your Majesty has not heard enough. But I think when you have reflected you will not wish for more. It is clear that the women calling themselves Mowbrays have had the audacity to present themselves here under false colors. They have either deceived Lady Lambert, who introduced them to Rhaetian society, or—still more likely—they have cleverly forged their letters of introduction.”
“Why didn’t you telegraph to Lady Lambert, while your hand was in?” sneered Leopold.
“I did, your Majesty, or rather, not knowing her present address I wired a friend of mine, an acquaintance of hers, begging him to make inquiries, without using my name. But I have not yet received an answer to that telegram.”
“Until you do, I should think that even a cynic like yourself might give two defenseless, inoffensive ladies the benefit of the doubt.”
“Inoffensive?” echoed von Breitstein. “Inoffensive, when they came to this country to ensnare your Majesty through the girl’s beauty? But, great Heaven, it is true that I am growing old! I have forgotten to ask your Majesty whether you have gone so far as to mention the word marriage to Miss Mowbray?”
“I’ll answer that question by another. Do you really believe that Miss Mowbray came to Rhaetia to ‘entrap’ me?”
“I do. Though I scarcely think that even her ambition flew as high as you are encouraging it to soar.”
“In case you’re right she would have been overjoyed with an offer of morganatic marriage.”
“Overjoyed is a poor word. Overwhelmed might be nearer.”
“Yet I tell you she refused me last night, and is leaving Rhaetia to-day rather than listen to further entreaties.”