"It is my house," he said. "I do not often leave it. I sat in my sleeping chamber behind"—he pointed to the silken curtains through which he had passed—"I heard your entrance and guessed with pain and regret at your mission."
"But a quarter of an hour ago you were at the ball!"
"You are mistaken," he replied. "I do not attend such gatherings. I had given you my word that I should not be there."
"But I saw you," she persisted, "in that same costume!"
"Surely not," he dissented. "The person whom you saw was a gentleman from my suite, who wore the dress of an inferior mandarin. He is sometimes supposed to resemble me. I should have believed that your apprehension of such things would have informed you that no Prince of my line would wear the garments of his order for a public show."
Her fingers had left the drawer now. She stood upright, pale and desperate.
"That woman of your country, then—La Belle Nita—did she lie to me?"
"How can I tell?" he answered coldly, "because I do not know what she said."
Maggie made an effort to test her position.
"I came here as a thief," she confessed. "I am detected. What are your intentions?"