“A truce to this nonsense and pretence, Count,” he cried. “We are not here to discuss whether these ladies are in your keeping or not, but to demand their instant release.”
The light held by the Count’s face showed an ugly wave that for an instant ruffled its blandness. “You demand, sir?” he returned, with a slight indication of sternness behind his suavity. “You are as bold to ask me for what I have not got, as unreasonable to disturb my peace at this time of night.”
His cool lying was a shield which no words could pierce.
“Then,” said Udo hotly, “you refuse to give up these ladies?”
“Were any ladies under the protection of my poor roof,” Irromar replied, with maddening calmness, “I should certainly refuse to deliver them over to what I am almost forced to regard as a band of drunken marauders.”
“You will rue this insolence before many hours are past,” Udo cried angrily. “So far from being a drunken marauder, I am Captain Udo von Rollmar, of his Highness Duke Theodor of Waldavia’s Bodyguard of Cavalry. My father is Chancellor, Baron von Rollmar, and——”
“And your friends?” The words came snapped out with pointed, malicious intent, “and your friends, who have, in return for my hospitality, murdered my poor servants in cold blood, and attempted my own life—who may they be?”
“I am one,” Ludovic retorted, “who possesses the power to have you hanged, and I will not rest till I have done so.”
The Count laughed. “And you expect me to open my gates to you?”
“Certainly, to let out the two ladies.”