"Are you mad?"
"Not so mad as you will be when it happens."
The Russian controlled himself with difficulty in the face of the irritating observations.
"And who will do this?" he asked, at last.
"The Emperor."
"Does he command the lightning-flash that he could hurl the thunder-bolt from Troyes?"
"Upon my word, I believe he does," laughed the Frenchman.
"This is foolish jesting, boy," broke out the Englishman. "I am a man of consideration in my own country. The lady here will bear me out. I offered you fifty pounds. I will give you five hundred if you will release us and——"
"And I offer you my—friendship," said the Countess, making a long pause before the last word.
How much of it she meant or how little no one could say. Any ruse was fair in war like this. Marteau looked at her. The color flamed to her cheek and died away. It had flamed into his cheek and died away also.