“Yes—very good,” said the prince. “But the foreigner?”
The captain hesitated. “He escaped.”
“Escaped!” The prince stood up, his face suddenly dark. “How?”
As Nadson told him, his thin lips drew back from his white teeth. “Fool—blockhead!” he cried.
“But, Your Excellency, I succeeded in all else—and I have got the girl that shot at you,” protested the abashed officer.
“You failed in the one thing I laid stress upon!” was the cold and fierce retort.
It might have gone hard with Nadson then and there, had not a servant knocked and entered with a card. Berloff glanced at it.
“Wait without—I’ll settle with you later!” he said ominously to the captain. He turned to the servant. “Show him in.”
The big gendarme, thoroughly cowed, went out. The next moment Freeman weakly entered.
The prince stared. And well he might, for there was not a patch of white in Freeman’s face. It was all purple and green, and so swollen that his eyes were but two narrow slits.