He made no answer
to either of them. He wrote a few lines with the yellow crayon
and passed them silently across to Lucille.
Her face blanched. She stretched out an unwilling hand. But Mr.
Sabin intervened. He took the paper from the Prince's hand, and
calmly tore it into fragments. There was a moment's breathless
silence.
"Victor!" Lucille cried. "Oh, what have you done!"
The Prince's face lightened with an evil joy.
"We now, I think," he said, "understand one another. You will
permit me to wish you a very pleasant evening, and a speedy
leave-taking."
Mr. Sabin smiled.
"Many thanks, my dear Prince," he said lightly. "Make haste and
complete your charming little arrangements. Let me beg of you to
avoid bungling this time. Remember that there is not in the whole
of Europe to-day a man more dangerous to you than I."
The Prince had departed. Mr. Sabin lit a cigarette and stood on
the hearthrug. His eyes were bright with the joy of fighting.
"Lucille," he said, "I see that you have not touched your liqueur.
Oblige me by drinking it. You will find it excellent."
She came over to him and hung upon his arm. He threw his cigarette
away and kissed her upon the lips.
"Victor," she murmured, "I am afraid. You have been rash!"
"Dearest," he answered, "it is better to die fighting than to stand
aside and watch evil things.
Pages:
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324