“I am waiting,” said the German, “for you to explain your conduct.”
“Indeed!” replied De Chauxville. “Then, my friend, you will have to continue waiting. I fail to recognize your right to make enquiry into my movements. I am not responsible to any man for my actions, least of all to you. The man who manages his neighbor’s affairs mismanages his own. I would recommend you to mind your own business. Kindly let me pass.”
De Chauxville’s words were brave enough, but his lips were unsteady. A weak mouth is apt to betray its possessor at inconvenient moments. He waved Steinmetz aside, but he made no movement toward the door. He kept the table between him and his companion.
Steinmetz was getting calmer. There was an uncanny hush about him.
“Then I am to conclude,” he said, “that you came to Russia in order to persecute a helpless woman. Her innocence or her guilt is, for the moment, beside the question. Neither is any business of yours. Both, on the contrary, are my affair. Innocent or guilty, the Princess Howard Alexis must from this moment be freed from your persecution.”
De Chauxville shrugged his shoulders. He tapped on the floor impatiently with the toe of his neat riding-boot.
“Allons!” he said. “Let me pass!”
“Your story of Sydney Bamborough,” went on Steinmetz coldly, “was a good one wherewith to frighten a panic-stricken woman. But you brought it to the wrong person when you brought it to me. Do you suppose that I would have allowed the marriage to take place unless I knew that Bamborough was dead?”
“You may be telling the truth about that incident or you may not,” said De Chauxville. “But my knowledge of the betrayal of the Charity League is sufficient for my purpose.”
“Yes,” admitted Steinmetz grimly, “you have information there with possibilities of mischief in it. But I shall discount most of it by telling Prince Pavlo to-night all that I know, and I know more than you do. Also, I intend to seal your lips before you leave this room.”