"Why should I?"
The duke's black eyes flashed savagely; his face grew as dark as night.
"Are you mad or drunk? Report yourself a prisoner at the Citadel."
"Again I ask, why should I?"
Bora gripped his sword-handle with an air compounded of amazement and fury. A whispered word from Radzivil seemed to exercise a moderating effect upon him.
"Permit me to give my name," said the minister, stepping forward with a courteous bearing. "I am Count Radzivil, premier of Czernova. May I ask a like favor?"
"I am an Englishman, Captain Woodville of the 24th Kentish. May I ask who is this—ah!—gentleman?"
An Englishman! Bora immediately recognized his error. Misled by Paul's uniform he had taken him for one of his own officers. The duke could ill bear ridicule, and if this story got abroad he would be the laughingstock of Czernova.
"Permit me to reveal my dignity," he began stiffly.