“Your Excellency,” said Wilfrid with the air of one who has formed an irrevocable decision, “I will at once depart for St. Petersburg.”
“Good!”
“I will seek out the lady.”
“Excellent!”
“And I will warn her of your damnable designs.”
“Ha!” muttered Baranoff, looking thunderstruck.
As he caught the angry sparkle of Wilfrid’s eye, it suddenly dawned upon him that he had mistaken his man. Reared in the atmosphere of Catharine’s Court, in its day the most licentious in Europe, Baranoff had become dead to all sense of honour, and failed to understand how a man could resist the twin temptation of a pleasant amour and a rich bribe.
“Do I take it that you refuse my offer?”
“To the devil with your offer!”
Baranoff elevated his eyebrows and affected the extreme of amazement.