"And though my honor is doubtful," went on the woman I loved, "you still would marry me?"
"Your Highness," said the Prince, with a bow which entailed the sweeping of his hands, "I would marry you were your honor as—"
"Hell!" roared Hillars in English.
But he was a moment too late. My hands were around the throat of Prince Ernst of Wortumborg, and I was shaking him till his teeth chattered on each other like castanets. Surely I would have throttled him but for the intervention of the Count and the cavalrymen. The Count swung his arm around my neck, while the cavalrymen, their sabre points at Hillars' breast, wrenched loose my hands. I stood glaring at him, panting and furious. He leaned against the table, gasping and coughing. Finally he recovered his composure.
"Count, I was wrong; you were right. These fellows are dangerous."
"I will fight you on any terms!" I fired back at him.
"I shall send you one of my lackeys," he replied. "Take them away, and shoot them if they resist."
"Liberate the gentlemen," said Gretchen.
The Count gazed at her in amazement.
"Liberate them?" he cried.