“You look very pale—I am remorseful that I disturbed you.”
“Oh, as to that,” the Prince gave a sudden, brilliant smile, “I have a damnable headache, which is too ordinary an affair to be remarked on, is it not? Do not rouse poor Bromley, and get to bed yourself, Mynheer.”
“Shall I not leave the candle, Highness?”
“Nay, I have another. Good-night.”
“Good-night, Highness.”
The Prince closed the door on the Lord of Beverwaert and returned to the table at the foot of his bed.
He began to strike the flint and tinder, but a sudden cough shook him so that he had to put the box down in order to hold his head, suddenly throbbing with acute agony.
For a while he sat quiet, drawing his breath painfully, then, at a second attempt, lit the candle, and the tall flame sprang up and mingled with the moonlight.
The Prince thrust the two letters into the pocket of his coat and moved the candle away from his eyes.