For a little while, he looked at her in forbidding silence.
“What ill wind blew you back to Dornlitz?” he asked presently; and she almost cried out in surprise at the deliberate menace in his voice. And Moore marvelled and was glad—the old Henry was being aroused, at last.
“Ill wind?” she said—leaning carelessly against the window ledge where the sun played through her wonderful hair, and tinged the flawless face from dead-white to a faint, soft pink—“ill wind for whom, Armand?—surely not for you; why am I here?”
The Archduke gave a sarcastic laugh. “That is precisely what I should like to know.”
“You doubt the letter?”
A shrug was his answer.
She leaned a bit toward him.
“If I show you the Book of Dalberg Laws, will you believe?” she asked.
“That they are the Laws, yes.”
She smiled rather sadly.