“Poor fellow!” Her pity was genuine enough, yet there was something behind it.
“The search,” Zarka continued, still eyeing her keenly, “is being energetically carried on by his family as well as by the Government. It is just as well that you did not stay in the city.”
“Yes.” She responded mechanically without conviction.
“A great friend of Prince Roel’s is reported to have set out for Paris.”
“Ah!” She looked at him enquiringly, yet unwilling to show how great her curiosity was.
“Yes,” he proceeded with his evil smile. “Perhaps after all you may have been very wise in changing your intention of going to Paris.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed in the same preoccupied tone. Then with a flash her manner changed. “No. I was wrong to leave town. You should know perfectly well, Count, that I was neither directly nor indirectly the cause of Prince Roel’s disappearance.”
She spoke vehemently, as though lashed by the man’s insinuations into taking a stand against him. He merely smiled, more inscrutably than ever.
“Of course if you will tell me so I am bound to believe it,” he replied. “Only, other people might not be so easily convinced.”
“And why not, pray?” she demanded, with a touch of haughtiness.