“I am justified in shooting you.”
“If you did, you would surely regret it. Remember, young man, you’re not in England, you’re not in France; you’re in Monaco.”
“Does that justify you?”
“When the welfare of our beloved Principality is at stake, I am justified in many things,—even in the examination of private strong boxes.”
“Assassination too, I suppose.”
“Oh no! I draw the line at that. In the Principality we strongly disapprove of all violent measures.”
“What about the balcony, and the attempt to fire the house?”
“I assure you, on my honour, I had nothing to do with either. Of course, I am unable to answer for the zeal of my subordinates. They are Monegasques and patriots. You can understand their point of view. They believe that one man’s life weighs as nothing against the welfare of the community. They would willingly sacrifice their lives for their country; but they prefer to sacrifice some one else’s life. They are a crude and violent race. You must excuse their ardour.”
“So you know nothing of those two attempts.”
“Officially, no. Of course, privately I have my ideas. I did not go into the matter very closely. You see I have a sense of delicacy, of tact. I am modern in my conceptions; I deprecate the gentle art of assassination. But again I repeat I am not responsible for the excessive zeal of my subordinates. They are just grown up children, many of them, passionate and impulsive. In the same way those whom I serve are not responsible for my acts,—this investigation, for instance. In fact, I am sure they would condemn it in the strongest of terms. Abuse of authority, they would call it, and wax duly indignant. But please put away that silly little pistol you are fingering so nervously. It annoys me. I have no sense of the dramatic.”