For though Wilfrid had little doubt that the other was Ouvaroff, still the lifting of the mask would bring certainty.
“Is it possible that you do not recognise me?”
“Can your eyes see through a silk mask?”
The Crusader hesitated for a moment.
“You do not know me? It is well!” He seemed to derive satisfaction from Wilfrid’s failure to identify him. “To-morrow morning you shall see my face and learn my name.”
“And why not to-night, my Crusader?”
“It is my pleasure for the present to reserve my identity.”
“But how if it be mine to know it now? How if I do not choose to wait till the morning? How if I take off your mask, and compel you at the sword’s point to reveal your name?”
“You are welcome to try,” responded the other, moving backward a pace or two to prevent Wilfrid from snatching off his mask.