Madame de Villiers now arose. She lifted her great mahogany cane, her face dark with anger.
“You will regret this day’s work,” she announced. “Be gone!”
But she had hardly finished her speech, before Mr. Stuart was on his feet. He seized the intruder by the collar, and before the man could more than raise his hand from the Countess Sophia’s arm, he was hurled several feet away, landing in a heap on the ground.
“You foreign idiot,” cried Mr. Stuart, forgetting his women guests in his anger. “How dare you come here and create a disturbance among my friends. You are without a warrant or a policeman. The Countess Sophia von Stolberg is our friend. You shall pay dearly for your insolence. Leave this place without a second’s delay or I shall lay violent hands on you.”
The two strangers did not dare defy Mr. Stuart. Mr. Warren had also risen and hurried to his friend’s aid and the two Americans looked thoroughly capable of enforcing their commands.
The foreigners went back to their carriage. After a slight delay they drove off, still muttering veiled threats.
When they had disappeared down the avenue, Countess Sophia gave Mr. Stuart her hand.
“I thank you, Monsieur,” she said. “Madame de Villiers and I are alone. It is good to have a protector. I do not know why those men attempted to arrest me without a warrant. I assure you they had not just cause. I believe they were sent by an enemy.”
“Perhaps, Countess,” replied Mr. Stuart, “those two men think you are some one else. I know there is a notorious swindler at large at Palm Beach. It is probably a case of mistaken identity.”
The Countess Sophia made no answer. Barbara, who was watching her closely, saw a look of unmistakable fear leap into her dark eyes at the mention of the word “swindler.” Bab glanced quickly about her and encountered the eyes of Monsieur Duval. In them was an expression of cruel triumph that made Bab feel certain that he was in some way responsible for the late unpleasant scene.