“Never,” said Maud stoutly.
“What? Nevah heard of the King’s Judgment? Why, my deah lady, we’re as well known as the Tower of London or the—the Crystal Palace.”
“In America, you see,” explained the more pacific Helen, “these things don’t get to us.”
“But I assuah you,” cried the other, turning his glassy regard upon her, “your atrocious American press has been quite full of it from time to time. Come, now! You’re spoofing me. You must have read of the Veyze divided title. What?”
Hypnotized by the glare of the monocle, Helen’s imagination inspired her to confess that she did vaguely recall something about it, which was the more gratifying to the representative of the Veyzes in that he had introduced the press feature on the inspiration of the moment.
The less impressionable Maud was not to be diverted from the main issue.
“Even if we knew all about your family, it would not explain Sir Montrose Veyze being here in America at the same time that he is being received by the King in London.”
“Wearing two swords. Doesn’t the press report mention that? It should,” put in the Veyze representative conscientiously piling up picturesque detail to embellish and fortify his case. “Don’t forget that, please. It’s a Veyze prerogative.”
“Is it a Veyze prerogative to be in two places at once?” queried the cross-examiner. “Or—there aren’t two of you, I suppose.”
“Of cawse!”