Steinmetz laughed.
“Nonsense!” he said. “Princess,” he went on, “if you think that the fact of De Chauxville numbering among his friends a few obscure police spies gives him the right to persecute you, you are mistaken. Our friend is very clever, but he can do no harm with the little that he knows of the Charity League.”
Etta remained silent. The silence made Steinmetz frown.
“Princess,” he said gravely, “you were indignant just now because I made so bold as to put the most natural construction upon the circumstances in which I found you. It was a prearranged meeting between De Chauxville and yourself. If the meeting was not the outcome of an intrigue such as I mentioned, nor the result of this man’s hold over you on account of the Charity League, what was it? I beg of you to answer.”
Etta made no reply. Instead, she raised her eyes and looked at De Chauxville.
“Without going into affairs which do not concern you,” said the Frenchman, answering for her, “I think you will recognize that the secret of the Charity League was quite sufficient excuse for me to request a few minutes alone with the princess.”
Of this Steinmetz took no notice. He was standing in front of Etta, between De Chauxville and the door. His broad, deeply lined face was flushed with the excitement of the moment. His great mournful eyes, yellow and drawn with much reading and the hardships of a rigorous climate, were fixed anxiously on her face.
Etta was not looking at him. Her eyes were turned toward the window, but they did not see with comprehension. She was stony and stubborn.
“Princess,” said Steinmetz, “answer me before it is too late. Has De Chauxville any other hold over you?”
Etta nodded, and the little action brought a sudden gleam to the Frenchman’s eyes.