"Yes," was the prompt reply.
Blair turned to him with weary surprise.
"The prince was an old lover of Margaret's."
The blood rushed to Blair's face, and his eyes flashed.
"An old lover? It is you who are mad! Margaret had no lover but me."
Austin Ambrose met his fierce gaze steadily.
"My dear Blair, I meant no kind of reproach against her! But think, is it not possible that the prince may have seen her before she met you? that, though nothing tangible may have passed between them, he may have fallen in love with her?"
"And she not tell me! Ah, how little you knew her!"
"She may not have thought it worth the telling! May have feared that you might think she was boasting of her conquest over a prince. But if you won't entertain this idea, what other reason can you find for his wanting to fight you? You know what these Italians are: they will fight for an idea—half a one! He may have got some inkling that you were her favored lover, he cannot possibly know that you married her, but he may see in you a rival, and these Italians consider it their duty to dispose of a rival in the most complete and expeditious way."
Blair leaned his head upon his hands.