“But⁠—”

George stared at him⁠—bewildered.

The Baron took him into a corner of the room, and murmured something into his ear. Anthony watched, with a good deal of enjoyment, George’s face turning slowly purple, his eyes bulging, and all the incipient symptoms of apoplexy. A murmur of George’s throaty voice came to him.

“Certainly⁠ ⁠… certainly⁠ ⁠… by all means⁠ ⁠… no need at all⁠ ⁠… complicate situation⁠ ⁠… utmost discretion.”

“Ah!” Lemoine hit the table sharply with his hand. “I do not care about all this! The murder of Prince Michael⁠—that was not my affair. I want King Victor.”

Anthony shook his head gently.

“I’m sorry for you, Lemoine. You’re really a very able fellow. But, all the same, you’re going to lose the trick. I’m about to play my trump card.”