“I am going to be cross-examined as regards Duson. I am no longer a member of the Order. What is to prevent my setting them upon the right track?”
“The fact,” the Prince said coolly, “that you are hoping one day to recover Lucille.”
“I doubt,” Mr. Sabin said, “whether you are strong enough to keep her from me.”
The Prince smiled. All his white teeth were showing.
“Come,” he said, “you know better than—much better than that. Lucille must wait her release. You know that.”
“I will buy it,” Mr. Sabin said, “with a lie to the manager here, or I will tell the truth and still take her from you.”
The Prince stood upon the topmost step of the balcony. Below was the palm court, with many little groups of people dotted about.
“My dear friend,” he said, “Duson died absolutely of his own free will. You know that quite well. We should have preferred that the matter had been otherwise arranged. But as it is we are safe, absolutely safe.”
“Duson’s letter!” Mr. Sabin remarked.
“You will not show it,” the Prince answered. “You cannot. You have kept it too long. And, after all, you cannot escape from the main fact. Duson committed suicide.”