O’Hagan focussed him through the monocle.
“I was with the Grand Duke when you handed him the packet,” he said, with a sort of suppressed ferocity—“you brick-dust baboon!”
“You were not!” shrieked the other. “The Grand Duke was alone——!”
He stopped. His florid face blanched to a mottled white, and he dropped back, the picture of a rogue unmasked. Then:
“You see, monsieur,” said O’Hagan to the President, “I have indicated your traitor and he has condemned himself; for the Grand Duke was alone!”
I expected a veritable pandemonium to burst upon us; but my expectation was not realised. The man seated beside Casimir turned, and with a cold smile, but blazing eyes, struck him deliberately across the face with his open hand. The outraged rascal bounded again to his feet; but a look around the silent company was enough. One quick glance he directed toward the old man, who stood with finger rigidly pointed to the door, and, head bent, he shuffled past us—and was gone.
Then, certainly, a scene of the wildest enthusiasm ensued. Everybody present seemed bent upon embracing Leo; but, escaping from his excited fellows, he came and took both O’Hagan’s hands in his own, turning then to me, and shaking mine as warmly.
“Gentlemen,” he said, in very fair English, “I will not attempt to thank you. I only thank God that there are such as you in the world!”
“Devilish embarrassing!” O’Hagan confessed to me, later, “considering the real objective of the expedition—id est: supper!”
“Here,” said my friend, “is something to which you have a better claim than I.” He handed Leo the ring. “To that brave lady you owe everything, sir; to us, nothing.”