This declaration was greeted with laughter.
“Evidently I have entered the wrong room,” he continued imperturbably. He stepped toward the door, but a burly individual placed his back to it.
“Am I a prisoner, or the victim of a practical joke?”
“Either way,” said the man with the frosty mustache.
“Why?”
“You have recently formed a dangerous acquaintance, and we desire to aid you in breaking it.”
“Are you aware, gentlemen—no, I don't mean gentlemen—that I am attached to the American legation in Vienna, and that my person is inviolable?”
Everybody laughed again—everybody but Maurice.
“Allow me to correct you,” put in the elderly man, who evidently was the leader in the affair. “You are not attached; you are detached. Gentlemen, permit me, M. Carewe, detache of the American legation in Vienna, who wishes he had stayed there.”
Maurice saw a brace of revolvers on the mantel. The table stood between.