“One does not generally undertake such a venture at haphazard, madame. I have done what I could to ensure success, and I may say that I have good hopes of attaining it.”
“And what,” she demanded, in a voice that made him jump, “is there to assure me that this is not a plot of your own, invented for the purpose of making me ridiculous or even humiliating me in the eyes of the world? Where are the proofs of the conspiracy you have discovered?”
“I have none,” said Cyril laconically. Her change of tone had restored his mind immediately to its usual balance. “If you will wait half an hour or so, madame, the proofs will probably arrive in the persons of the conspirators; but it will then be too late to save your son.”
She bit her lips with vexation. “It is useless to ignore the fact, Count, that the relations between us have not been wholly amicable of late, and you are popularly supposed never to let slip an opportunity of revenging yourself.”
“A guilty conscience is usually an unpleasant companion, madame; but on this occasion it is also an untrustworthy adviser.”
“How? Do you venture to imply—— You must be aware that you are asking me to repose an extraordinary degree of confidence in you, Count.”
“Not more than your husband reposed in me, madame. Have I ever betrayed that confidence? Even when you most disliked my measures, have they not proved to be advantageous—even necessary?”
“Unhappily they have. But this case is wholly without precedent.”
“It is for you, madame, to decide whether you prefer to be saved in an unprecedented way, or ruined in a manner which is unfortunately not entirely new. If your son is to be rescued, I must ask you to make up your mind quickly now, and to be obedient afterwards.”
“Obedient! That is a strange word to use to me!”