He was cool as ever; nevertheless, behind the calm suavity of his manner there was a touch of sternness, a suggestion of a latent power, held back in readiness to be called into action if necessary.
“You have,” he proceeded, “you are ready to deny and absolutely ignore it—but you have under your roof, detained here against their will, two ladies. Yes, I said you would repudiate the fact”—for the Count had made a quick, angry sign of denial—“but that is futile. That these ladies are for the moment in your power, I am well assured. At any rate, you will kindly allow me to argue on that supposition.”
“I will not, Baron,” Irromar exclaimed threateningly. “No man shall charge me with such an outrage.”
“You will do well to hear me out,” Rollmar continued imperturbably. “By refusing to hear a reasonable argument you may force me to resort to one more forcible and less pleasant.”
The Count laughed loud and scornfully. “You have come here to threaten me? I have known the Chancellor von Rollmar’s reputation well, and always gave him credit for sanity.”
“That is, at least, something,” the old man returned dryly, “I trust that when we part, your flattering opinion will have been in no way modified. Justified or not, you might have been sure that the Chancellor von Rollmar was at least sane enough to recognize the futility of an empty threat. Sane enough also to have stayed at home, rather than ride so many leagues to carry a mere threat—which any bullying sergeant could have done as well—to a man who seems for many years to have thriven on such empty food. No, Count; it was not to take up the challenge of your refusal to deliver up these ladies that I am here, but rather to set right, amicably, I hope, a certain misapprehension which, doubtless, induced you to refuse Captain Rollmar’s request.”
The Count, with a set and not encouraging smile on his face, kept silent, in an affectation of courteous tolerance. He foresaw that the point for which Rollmar was making must be the identity of his captives, and he was anxious to learn it.
“When I tell you,” the Chancellor proceeded, “who the ladies are, whom for the moment we may presume you are detaining, you will, I am sure, recognize that your action, unless quickly abandoned, is bound to have very serious consequences.”
“Another threat, Excellency?” Irromar could not help interjecting.
“You shall judge how far,” was Rollmar’s quiet answer. “This act of kidnapping is one that must carry with it its natural, its logical punishment. Threats are here superfluous. But the ladies in question are of high rank. One is Countess Minna von Croy, principal Maid of Honour to Princess Ruperta of Waldavia, and the other is Princess Ruperta herself.”