‘Yes,’ gasped the Prince, who, in spite of his power of self-control, started at the question, and his brow clouded over.
‘She is the wife of Kasin, who is the Russian Consul at Smyrna.’
A cold, cynical smile of bitterness played about the Prince’s thin lips as he remarked:
‘That is an open secret. But let me tell you at once, I have not seen my daughter for years, and never wish to see her again. She is an ingrate. I have cast her forth from my heart.’
The Prince betrayed the fact that, though he bore the reputation of being a man of blood and iron, and very likely justified his reputation when it came to matters of diplomacy, he had hidden springs of deep emotion and passion which were capable of being called into play.
‘I do not wish to probe you, sir, nor touch upon your domestic affairs more than can possibly be helped. I have come here to request that you will influence the recall of your son-in-law from Smyrna.’
The Prince sprang to his feet, and grasped the back of his chair, and though he tried to control himself, it was evident he was greatly excited.
‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, ‘do you mean to say that my son-in-law has had a hand in this business?’
‘I mean to say nothing, sir, at present.’
‘But your request carries with it an accusation. Remember the terrible responsibility of that. If Kasin has had a hand in purloining these papers he is a traitor, and the penalty is death.’