The Prince, who had pushed back his chair and confronted his sister
with hands stretched out to cover or to gather up the papers on the
table, slewed round upon me a face that, as it turned, slowly
stiffened with terror. The Genoese officer rose with one hand
resting on the table, while with the other he fumbled at a silver
chain hanging across his breast, and as he shot a glance at the
Prince I could almost see his lips forming the word "treachery."
The Princess's consternation was of all the most absolute.
"_The Crown! Where is the Crown?_"--as I broke in, her voice, half
imperious, half supplicatory, had panted out these words, while with
outstretched hand and forefinger she pointed at the table. Her hand
still pointed there, rigid as the rest of her body, as with dilated
eyes she stared into mine.
"Yes, gentlemen," said I, in the easiest tone I could manage, "the
Princess asks you a question, which allow me to repeat. Where is
the Crown?"
"In the devil's name--" gasped the Prince.
The Genoese interrupted him. "Shut and bolt the door!" he commanded
the priest, sharply.
Pages:
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468