"How impossible!" cried the Prince, violently. "Do you presume to contradict me? Do you dare to dispute my word when I tell you that I myself have seen Lord Vernon; when I describe his condition to you? He was most courteous, though he could not speak above a whisper--he treated me more kindly than I deserved, when one considers the wording of that note I sent to him, for which I was glad to apologise! One could see he was in no condition to give me audience--to discuss business of any kind! He could scarcely sit erect!" "Oh, there is some knavery!" cried Tellier, his face purple. "I know it! I scent it!" "You are, then, infallible, I suppose!" retorted the Prince. "His physician assured me that in a week Lord Vernon would be much better--nearly well; he suggested that for a week I do not press my business." "But you did not agree!" screamed Tellier. "Your Highness did not agree!" "Most certainly I agreed. Not to agree would have been to insult them yet a second time!" "A week!" groaned Tellier, throwing up his hands, with a gesture of despair. "Then all is lost!" "How lost?" demanded Markeld, red with anger. "In what way lost? Have a care of what you say!" Tellier controlled himself by a mighty effort and managed to speak with some approach to calmness. "The German Emperor will not waste a week, Your Highness. That is not his way, as you very well know. He will be at work every hour--every minute!" "What can he accomplish, if the British foreign office will do nothing? Will he take the affair into his own hands? He will not dare!" "He might dare, Your Highness; he has dared things more perilous than that. But how do we know the British foreign office will do nothing?" "I tell you," repeated the Prince, hotly, "that Lord Vernon is a gentleman--something you do not seem to understand; that he is ill-- something you seem to doubt!" "In diplomacy, Your Highness, even a gentleman may sometimes lie, or, at least, disguise the truth. Perhaps even before this, he has hinted to the Emperor that he will not interfere, if he acts promptly--perhaps this illness is merely a ruse to avoid a situation the most awkward." It was the Prince's turn to stride up and down, to pluck at his moustache, to go red and white. "If I thought so!" he murmured hoarsely. "If I thought so!" "There is some underhand work in progress," cried Tellier, growing more and more excited; "some trap, some piece of trickery--I know not what--but I am certain--I will find out!" "If I thought so!" said the Prince again, and his face was not pleasant to look upon.