"But is he to marry her?" she insisted, she knew not why.
"How should I know, your highness?"
"If you call me 'your highness' again I'll despise you," she flared miserably. "Another question. Is it true that the young Duke Christobal fled because his father objected to his marriage with a game-warden's daughter?"
"I have never heard so," with a touch of hauteur.
"Does he know that the girl is dead?" she asked cruelly. Baldos did not answer for a long time. He stared at her steadily, his eyes expressing no emotion from which she could judge him.
"I think he is ignorant of that calamity, Miss Calhoun," he said. "With your permission, I shall withdraw. There is nothing to be gained by delay." It was such a palpable affront that she shrank within herself and could have cried.
Without answering, she walked unsteadily to the window and looked out into the night. A mist came into her eyes. For many minutes she remained there, striving to regain control of her emotions. All this time she knew that he was standing just where she had left him, like a statue, awaiting her command. At last she faced him resolutely.
"You will receive instructions as to your duties here from the guard at the stairs. When you hear the hall clock strike the hour of two in the morning go into the chapel, but do not let anyone see you or suspect. You know where it is. The door will be unlocked."
"Am I not to see you again?" he asked, and she did not think him properly depressed.
"Yes," she answered, after a pause that seemed like an eternity, and he went quietly, silently away.