"Perhaps I liked to play with him," the level voice resumed. "Perhaps I did not care to deprive the Emperor of his companion while I had still so much work to be done. But I think I waited because of a quixotic dislike to using my superior strength of position against an antagonist; to being both accuser and judge. I am not a child, I have no intention of letting him escape and work mischief undisturbed; simply I leave him to Adrian's justice."
"Then you—"
"I shall give the evidence to the Emperor after the coronation and before I leave the city. If he chooses to pardon Dalmorov, very good; my part is done. However, I would not value the baron's chances much. My cousin is—my cousin."
"Yes," Allard admitted reluctantly, he too knew the steel-hard Adrian. "Only, it seems a pity to give him to-morrow."
Stanief laughed.
"And I fancied you Americans good-natured! Let Dalmorov go with all the glittering wreckage of my regency. I have found the better part."
Iría's little hand nestled into the one held out for it, and there fell a silence. Allard looked at them, then sighing turned his head. The memory of Theodora caught at his heart, Theodora, who had loved Robert and now grieved out her marred life, alone amidst the unvalued wealth so hardly bought.
From the great cathedral pealed the first rich bell of the chime. Iría lifted her finger in warning.
"Midnight," she said softly.
Stanief rose, and drawing her with him, crossed to push aside the curtains before the open window.