displeasure of a man who brooks no interference.”
He stared at her for a moment, his mind in a whirl. The thought that she might be mad grew, but was instantly succeeded by another which came like a shock.
“Is this man of noble blood?”
“Yes,” she almost whispered, turning her eyes away.
“And he means to do me harm?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Because?”
“Because he fears your power.”
“In what direction?”
“You know without asking, M. Quentin.”
“And why do you take this interest in me? I am nothing to you.”
“It's because you are not to be treated fairly. Listen. On this train are two men who do not know that I am here, and who would be confounded if they were to see me. They are in one of the forward coaches, and they are emissaries sent on to watch your every movement and to report the progress of your—your business in Brussels. If you become too aggressive before the man who employs them can arrange to come to Brussels, you are to be dealt with in a manner effectual. What is to be done with you, I do not know, but I am certain you are in great danger unless you—” She paused, and a queer expression came into her wide eyes.
“Unless what? You interest me.”
“Unless you withdraw from the contest.”
“You assume that there is a contest of some sort. Well, admitting there is one, I'll say that you may go back to the prince and tell him his scheme doesn't work. This story of yours—pardon me, Mademoiselle is a clever one, and you have done your part well, but I am not in the least alarmed. Kindly return to the
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