His bow was humorous without mockery: “Madame la princesse does me much honour.”
She was silent another instant, in a wide stare comprehending the incredible, the utterly impossible fact of his presence there. The one conceivable explanation voiced itself without her volition:
“The Lone Wolf!”
“Oh, come now!” he remonstrated, indulgently—“that’s downright flattery.”
She moved aside, lifting a hand toward the bell-cord.
“Wait!”
Involuntarily she deferred, her arm dropped. Then, appreciating that she had yielded where he had no right to command, she mutinied.
“Why?” she demanded, resentfully.
“Why ring?” he countered, smiling.
“To call my servants—to have them call in the police.”