“Not at all. The Princess has bolted.”
“Bolted?” inquired M. Drakovics, mildly.
“Yes, bolted—cut and run, eloped, with the Prince of Dardania.”
“But is it too late to stop them?”
“Quite. They were married last night.”
“But this is appalling, milord!”
“It is bad enough; but there is worse behind. My brother was in the plot.”
“Impossible, milord! You cannot tell me that his Majesty would enter into an agreement to make himself the laughing-stock of the world?”
“It is unfortunately too true that my brother only engaged himself to the Princess that he might help her to carry out this design of hers. Of course the Queen was in it as well. Between them they have made a good deal of use of him. I am as much astonished as you can possibly be that he should have listened to them for an instant.”
“Ah! that admission scarcely accords with the claim which you advanced some time ago to a complete knowledge of his Majesty’s character,” said M. Drakovics, looking up with a smile which was more like a snarl.