“In dealing with dishonourable persons,” was the reply, “nice rules of courtesy must be laid aside.”
Wilfrid was convinced that the speaker was Ouvaroff, and that, for some reason or other, the Prince was seeking to disguise his voice.
It was not so much the voice, however, to which he gave heed as the words. Dishonourable? As Wilfrid recalled the Princess’s sweet face and innocent eyes, still greater grew his anger against the man who thus ventured to charge her with wrong-doing.
“Dishonourable, my eavesdropper?” he repeated with a dangerous gleam in his eye.
“I said the word, sir.”
“To whom do you apply it—to me or to the lady?”
“To both.”
“’Tis a word you shall withdraw, or justify.”
“The lady’s last action justifies it. If innocent, why flee? She knows me, and knowing, dares not face me.”
“In knowing you she has the advantage of me. Let me declare myself. I am an Englishman, Viscount Courtenay; my face you may see,” and as he spoke Wilfrid removed his mask. “May I ask for a similar return on your part?”