Gabriel heard this speech with a skeptical smile on his face.
“I am no fool,” he said, simply. “Captain,” shrewdly turning to Quinnox, “if he is your prisoner, why do you permit him to retain his revolver?”
The conspirators were taken by surprise, but Lorry had found his wits.
“It is folly, your Highness, to allow this gentleman and conquering Prince to cross-examine you. I am a prisoner, and that is the end of it. What odds is it to the Prince of Dawsbergen how and where I was caught or why your officer brought me to you?”
“You were ordered from my house once today, yet you come again like a conqueror. I should not spare you. You deserve to lose your life for the actions of tonight. Captain Quinnox, will you kill him if I ask you to end his wretched life?” Yetive's eyes were blazing with wrath, beneath which gleamed a hope that he could be frightened into silence.
“Willingly—willingly!” cried Quinnox. “Now, your Highness? 'Twere better in the hall!”
“For God's sake, do not murder me! Let me go!” cringed the Prince.
“I do not mean that you should kill him now, Quinnox, but I instruct you to do so if he puts foot inside these walls again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your Highness.”
“Then you will place this prisoner in the castle dungeon until to-morrow morning, when he is to be taken to the Tower. Prince Gabriel may accompany you to the dungeon cell, if he likes, after which you will escort him to the gates. If he enters them again you are to kill him. Take them both away!”