"I knew it," he said hopelessly. "We shall never see her again—never."
"And whose fault is that?" demanded Congosta, striking the arm of the chair with his fist. "Did you not promise me that she should be safe? Did I not leave the honour of my country in your hands?"
"You did," said Tony, "and we have let you down with a bump."
He splashed some whisky and soda into a glass and held it out to the Livadian, who sat there glowering at them both with angry suspicion.
"Come, Señor," he added persuasively, "drink that up and you'll feel better. Whatever else we do, it's no good quarrelling amongst ourselves."
Congosta, who really did appear to be badly in need of it, gulped off a couple of mouthfuls of the stimulant, and set down the tumbler.
"Now listen to me," said Tony, speaking very slowly and quietly. "I admit that things look queer and I admit that you have every right to feel suspicious. But there has been no treachery. You can get that idea out of your head right away. I moved Isabel to Chester Square because I thought it was the safest place she could be in. We took every precaution, and I haven't the faintest motion how Da Freitas found out her address. It has been just as big a smack in the eye to us as it is to you."
Either the drink or else Tony's unwonted earnestness evidently brought some sort of conviction to the visitor. Once again his shattered faith in the British aristocracy seemed slowly to revive, and rising to his feet, he bowed stiffly to his two companions.
"Gentlemen!" he said. "I spoke hastily. I ask your pardon."
"If there is any apologizing to be done," said Tony, "it's up to me. I have underrated Da Freitas all through in the most fatuous way—and this is the result!"