After that the talk ran back to its subject before Drexel had entered--welcome to the princess--gossip about this person and that--chat about functions to come. Drexel was left quite out of the conversation, but this gave him time to form a determination to outstay all the others and have it out with the princess in private. This plan, however, was not so easy of achievement. The others, to be sure, took their leave in ones and pairs, but more callers came in their stead. He got a polite glance from the princess now and then, which, being interpreted, meant that he had far exceeded the limits of a call. But he sat grimly on. At length he had his reward. But he was certain of having her to himself for no more than a moment, so the instant the last back was out of the door he drew his chair before her, leaned forward, and looked her squarely in the face. “Princess,” said he in English, “you have the makings of the greatest poker player in the world.” “Pokair playair!” returned she in her halting English. Her face was puzzled. “I not understand.” “Do you know what a ‘bluffer’ is?” “‘Bluffair’? Yes, I know. A vair American word.” “Well, you could make the biggest bluffer in America seem a naïve child.” “Excuse”--with a shrug. “What you mean?” He spoke with sharp decision. “Your pretending not to know me, and all the rest, is what we would call a bluff. You are the woman I met on the railroad train six nights ago. You are the woman I talked with five nights ago. I know! There’s no use denying it!” Her eyes did not flinch from his determined gaze; rather they took on a bored look. “Pardon me,” said she quietly, “perhaps Meestair Drexel is one--what you call it--one bluffair?” Drexel was not at all certain he was not just that. But his face showed none of his doubt. “You are afraid of me because chance revealed to me your secret,” he went on. “Now I have come here to tell you that you have no reason to fear me. To tell you that you can trust me.” She rose and looked at him haughtily. “You carry your amusement too far,” she said, lapsing into French. “I am tired. I beg that you will excuse me.” She started to sweep out of the room, but Drexel blocked her way. “I have come to tell you,” he went on doggedly, “that to relieve you of any sense of danger from me, I am willing, this minute, to yield myself your prisoner, to be held as long as you desire.” “Will you let me pass!” said she. “As soon as you have answered me.” Her lips curled with contempt. “Even were I what you say, even had I the wish to take you prisoner, how could I take and hold you in this house? Again you must excuse me.” He blocked her way once more. “At least, you will cross with me to the window?” “If you will then be so kind--” “Yes, I will then go, princess. Come!” He crossed the drawing-room, parted the curtains at one of the windows, and pointed down to where along the river-wall, through the falling twilight, could be seen the two sleighs.