Berloff again was silent for a moment. “Why do I not dare shoot?”
“Because you want to marry my cousin.”
“Well?”
“Well, if you were to shoot me down, no matter under what circumstances, my cousin would never marry you.”
“Do you think the loss of your cousin will hold me back?”
“No, my dear prince. But the loss of my cousin’s millions will.”
The prince did not answer.
As he gazed at the prince, Drexel flamed with the desire to hurl defiance, contempt, into that gleaming, passion-worked face: to tell him that he knew him for a man-hunter with the blood of rare-souled thousands upon his hands, and that he was going to disclose his perfidious business to his cousin Alice, and proclaim it broadcast to the world. He was almost overmastered by the impulse, let come what might, to grapple that false throat and hold it till life was gone.
But there was the promise of silence that he had made to Sonya. His first consideration had to be her safety, and her safety depended upon his own. He thought of Captain Nadson; the captain might enter at any moment, and bring about the undoing of them both. For Sonya’s sake he must make some desperate effort to escape.
He sought to get out of the room by virtue of mere audacity. “And so, prince, since you are afraid to use that weapon, you will have to think of something else,” he said. “And that you may think the better, I shall leave you to yourself.”