“I suppose it is only natural for you to take it so, uncle. I’m sorry the break——”
“I think I said good-morning!”
Drexel gazed a moment at the glaring, rigid old man. “Good-morning,” he said, and started for the door.
But he turned about. “Pardon me. I have something of importance to tell you.”
“You’ve told me enough!” He pointed to the door.
“This does not concern me. It concerns you and aunt, and Alice most of all. I must speak to the three of you.”
It was the look in Drexel’s face rather than his words that made his uncle summon Alice and her mother. Their exclamations of pleasure at sight of Drexel were stopped by an abrupt command.
“We are no longer friends,” the old man explained to the wondering women. “Go on, Henry.”
“What I’m going to tell you is God’s truth—I can prove it all if need be,” he began. And he went on to unfold the prince’s secret office and his crafty villainies. Before he was half to the end of the dark record, his uncle and his aunt were staring with white faces and Alice was bowed upon the table among the wedding gifts, sobbing and shuddering.
When he finished, Alice threw herself upon her father’s breast. “Oh, I can’t marry him—never! Never!”