Not a word was uttered for a full minute. It was Beverly Calhoun who spoke first. She was as calm as a spring morning.
"If all this be true, Count Marlanx, may I ask why you, the head of Graustark's army, did not intercept the spy when you had the chance?"
Marlanx flushed guiltily. The question had caught him unprepared. He dared not acknowledge his presence there with the hired assassins.
"I—I was not in a position to restrain him," he fumbled.
"You preferred to wait until he was safely gone before making the effort to protect Graustark from his evil designs. Is that it? What was your object in going to the chapel? To pray? Besides, what right had you to enter the castle in the night?" she asked ironically.
"Your highness, may I be heard?" asked Baldos easily. He was smiling up at Yetive from the bottom of the steps. She nodded her head a trifle uneasily. "It is quite true that I left the castle by means of your secret passage last night."
"There!" shrieked Marlanx. "He admits that he—"
"But I wish to add that Count Marlanx is in error when he says that Miss Calhoun was my accomplice. His eyes were not keen in the darkness of the sanctuary. Perhaps he is not accustomed to the light one finds in a chapel at the hour of two. Will your highness kindly look in the direction of the southern gate? Your august gaze may fall upon the reclining figure of a boy asleep, there in the shadow of the friendly cedar. If Count Marlanx had looked closely enough last night he might have seen that it was a boy who went with me and not—"
"Fool! Don't you suppose I know a woman's skirts?" cried the Iron Count.
"Better than most men, I fancy," calmly responded Baldos. "My young friend wore the garments of a woman, let me add."