The Princess glanced uncertainly at Moore, hesitated, then handed the bundle to him, and turning to the desk wrote rapidly for a few minutes—read over the sheet, and held it out to the Duke.
He took it with a bow, and went back to his place.... The order was clear and unequivocal, almost in his own words, indeed. Her ready acquiescence had amazed him—now doubt came, and then suspicion—was he being outwitted? Had she provided for just such a contingency? He read the order again—then put it in its envelope and went toward the corridor door. He would have to chance it.
“One moment, cousin,” said the Princess; “you may as well know that the only effect of that order, or any other, save from my own lips, will be to bring the assault forthwith, instead of at sunrise. It’s for you to choose which it shall be.”
He turned and regarded her contemplatively; and she spoke again.
“What is the profit now in restraining us? You have been playing for a Crown—you have lost;” (pointing to the book) “but why lose your life, too—though, frankly, as to that, save for the nasty scandal, I have no concern.”
His face hardened. “There could be a few lives lost here before sunrise,” he answered.
She smiled indifferently, though her heart beat faster at the threat; she had risked everything on her firm conviction that his cool, calculating brain would never be run away with by anger nor revenge—and the test was now.
“Assuredly, my dear Ferdinand,” said she, “you can have us killed—and then the sunrise.”
But he stared at her unrelentingly, and fear began to crowd upon her fast.
“Have we lost?” she said very low to Moore. “Have I brought you all to death?”