They battered at
it sturdily, but the door was a solid one. Suddenly they heard the
key turn in the lock. Mr. Sabin stood upon the threshold.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "These are my private apartments. Why
this violence?"
He held out the paper.
"This is mine," he said. "The information which it contains is
bought and paid for. But if the giving it up will procure me the
privilege of your departure, pray take it."
Horser was purple with rage. He pointed with shaking fist to the
still, calm figure.
"Arrest him," he ordered. "Take him to the cells."
Mr. Sabin shrugged his shoulders.
"I am ready," he said, "but it is only fair to give you this warning.
I am the Duke of Souspennier, and I am well known in England and
France. The paper which you saw me hand to the porter in the hall
as we stepped into the elevator was a despatch in cipher to the
English Ambassador at Washington, claiming his protection. If you
take me to prison to-night you will have him to deal with to-morrow."
Mr. Horser bore himself in defeat better than at any time during
the encounter. He turned to the constables.
"Go down stairs and wait for me in the hall," he ordered. "You too,
Skinner."
They left the room. Horser turned to Mr. Sabin, and the veins on
his forehead stood out like whipcord.
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