“So here you are, the whole nest of you together, eh?” he exclaimed.  “Good!  Very good indeed!  Prince Shan, the poisoner!  Dorminster, enjoying your brief triumph, eh?  And you, Naida Karetsky, traitress to your country—­deceiver—­”

“That will do, Immelan,” Nigel interrupted sharply.  “We are all here.  What do you want with us?”

“That comes,” Immelan replied.  “Soon you shall all know why I have come!  Let me speak to my friend Shan for a moment.  I carry your poison in my veins, but there is a chance—­just a chance,” he added slowly, with a horrible smile upon his lips, “that you may go first, after all.”

Nigel made a stealthy but rapid movement forward, drawing Naida gently out of the way.  Immelan was too quick, however.  He swung around, showing the revolver which he had been concealing behind him, and moved to one side until his back was against one of the pillars.  By this time, most of the other occupants of the ballroom had either rushed screaming away altogether, or were hiding, peering out in fascinated horror from the different recesses.  The chief maitre d’hotel bravely held his ground and came to within a few paces of Immelan.

“We can’t have any brawling here,” he said.  “Put that revolver away.”

Immelan took no notice of the intervener, except that for a single moment the muzzle yawned in the latter’s face.  The maitre d’hotel was a brave man, but he had a wife and family, and after all, it was not his affair.  There were other men there to look after the ladies.  He hurried off to call for the police.  Almost as he went, Prince Shan stepped into the foreground.  His voice was calm and expressionless.  His eyes, in which there shone no shadow of fear, were steadily fixed upon Immelan.  He spoke without flurry.

“So you carry your own weapons to-night, Immelan,” he said.  “That at least is more like a man.  You seem to have a grievance against every one.  Start with me.  What is it?”

There were some of them who wondered why, at this juncture when he so clearly dominated his assailant, Prince Shan, whose courage was superb and whose sang froid absolutely unshaken did not throw himself upon this intruder and take his chance of bringing the matter to an end at the moment when the man’s nerve was undoubtedly shaken.  Then they looked towards the entrance, and they understood.  Creeping towards the little gathering came Li Wen and another of the Prince’s suite, a younger and even more active man.  The two came on tiptoe, crouching and moving warily, with the gleam of the tiger in their anxious eyes.  Maggie caught a warning glance from Nigel and looked away.

“You are my murderer!” Immelan cried hoarsely.  “It is through you I suffer these pains!  I am dying of your accursed poison!”