Pierre could not think how to weigh the naturalness of indignation against a gentlemanly magnanimity. "The prince is mistaken," he said weakly. "It must have been another man." Without a flicker of anger or impatience Hagané, still facing the count, inquired, "Does the young man act with your authority?" "Mon Dieu, your Highness! No. Monsieur Le Beau has a certain official connection--but in such a _private_ matter"--Spread hands and a shrug completed the thought. "Were you not at my villa this morning?" Hagané had turned suddenly to Pierre. What could the Frenchman say? "No," came the pliant lie. "Come now, Prince Hagané!" began Ronsard, genially. "You see it's all a mistake. Forgive the boy his embarrassment. He is ill. To accuse him of purloining a private letter! Mother of God! In France it means a duel--" "Not purloining, your Excellency," corrected Hagané. "Taking by accident,--quite by accident. That is different. If our young friend was suffering from delirium he may have forgotten. Ask him to feel in his pocket." "It's a damnable lie, hatched for some personal reason," said Pierre. Hagané slowly rose. It was as if bronze moved. Ronsard instinctively imitated him, watching closely. He was convinced, now, that Hagané knew; but could not guess his next move. "My time is valuable to-day," said the Japanese, drawling a little. "I must speak with Monsieur Le Beau alone." Blank silence fell on the group. Hagané looked from one to the other, a slight shade of contempt growing in his eyes. "Is Monsieur Le Beau afraid?" he asked politely. "I assure you, gentlemen, I am unarmed. Even so, he might feel safer with a knife, a pistol. I regret that mine is at home, or I would be pleased to lend it. Perhaps one of these gentlemen can accommodate you." Pierre's face was growing white in a circle about his mouth. He stepped to Ronsard's desk, took out a revolver, a pearl and silver toy, and slammed it on the table between himself and Hagané. "Go, your Excellency!" he said, with eyes on Ronsard. "I, too, desire private speech with him." "Pierre! Pierre! remember France," cried Count Ronsard. Hagané bowed to the speaker. As Ronsard hesitated at the door, Mouquin pushed it open cautiously and brought in the coffee. "Not yet, Excellency," he said. Hagané waved his refusal of a proffered cup. Pierre poured himself three cups in succession, draining quickly each scalding draught. Hagané bowed again to Ronsard. "Now," he said simply. "Get out, Mouquin. Remember, Prince, the boy is ill." "I can take care of myself," Pierre said, his boyish head thrown back. Left alone the two men faced each other. Pierre leaned with one delicate hand on the table. Nervously exalted and chafed by silence he hurled words at his sombre opponent. "If your time is really valuable you waste it, my Lord. I advise you to inquire elsewhere."