“Can you tell me,” he asked, “if the Czar attended the rendezvous?”
“Not if he believed in the lie of Lord St. Helens.”
“What was that?”
“A lie to which—what will you think of me?—I gave my sanction. At six this morning your uncle was to repair to the Czar with the news that Lord Courtenay, having discovered his opponent’s identity, had not only retired from the combat, but was travelling post haste to Narva, intending to take ship for his own country. In fact, it is your uncle’s plan that you be kept here under my care while he arranges to have you shipped and carried off to England. And in so doing he thinks he is consulting your best interests. My part of the plan,” added Pauline, with a mock-mournful air, “has broken down. Now that you are free how do you intend to act?” she added, a little nervously.
“The Czar must learn that I have not played the coward. I shall go to St. Petersburg and somehow let him know that I am still in his capital, ready to meet him in duel, if he be so disposed.”
Pauline sighed over Wilfrid’s romantic obstinacy.
“The Czar will learn,” said she, with a rueful little smile, “that you were spirited away by Pauline de Vaucluse.”
“No, Baroness, no. I will suppress your name. You shall remain hidden under the title of a—a—ahem! a misguided patriot.”
“You are not going to set off for St. Petersburg to-night, I presume, seeing that it is now past ten o’clock?”
“No, I’ll defer my journey till the morning.”