“I have already explained my views,” the other answered, in a deep strained voice.
“From her attitude it is evident that you have not spoken to her, as we arranged,” said the other angrily.
“I have said nothing.”
“Well, you know me sufficiently well, Brooker, to be aware that when I set my heart upon doing a thing I will accomplish it at all cost,” the Prince, exclaimed. “I’m no longer an outsider, remember, I cannot really understand your disinclination to allow Liane to become Princess d’Auzac. Surely you must see that it would be distinctly to your own advantage. She would take care that you’d never be hard up for a few hundreds, you know.”
“She does not love you, Zertho.”
“Love be hanged!” cried the other, fiercely impatient. “In a week I shall repeat my proposal to her: if she does not accept, well—”
“Well?” echoed Brooker, paler than before, the hand holding the cigar trembling, for he was feigning a coolness which he was unable to preserve.
For a moment the Prince paused then crossing to the escritoire, which stood in the window, took therefrom a folded newspaper, old and tattered, together with several other papers folded together lengthwise. Recrossing to where Brooker stood, he held them up to his gaze, with a sinister smile upon his lips, and a look full of menace.
“No! no!” cried the Captain, glaring at the innocent-looking papers, and drawing back with a gesture of repulsion.
“Very well,” Zertho answered, with nonchalance. “Strange though it may appear, your only chance of safety is in becoming my father-in-law. It will be easy enough for you to persuade Liane to become my wife, and I am ready and eager to remain your friend. But if your prejudices are so very intense and indiscreet, well—you know the rest.”