“I perceive,” I remarked, looking at him closely, “that you are familiar with the nature of my secretarial work.”

He returned my glance, and it seemed to me that there was some hidden meaning in his eyes which I failed to catch.

“I am in my father’s confidence,” he said slowly.

There was a moment’s silence.  I was listening to a distant voice in the lower part of the hall.

“Am I to take it, Mr. Ducaine, then,” he said at last, “that you decline to apologize to the Prince?”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” I answered calmly.  “The Prince was attempting to obtain information in an illicit manner by the perusal of papers which were in my charge.”

Blenavon rose slowly to his feet.  His eyes were fixed upon the opposite corner of the hall.  Lady Angela, who had just descended the stairs, was standing there, pale and unsubstantial as a shadow, and it seemed to me that her eyes, as she looked across at me, were full of trouble.  She came slowly towards us.  Blenavon laid his hand upon her arm.

“Angela,” he said, “Mr. Ducaine will not accept my word.  I can make no impression upon him.  Perhaps he will the more readily believe yours.”

“Lady Angela will not ask me to disbelieve the evidence of my own senses,” I said confidently.

She stood between us.  I was aware from the first of something unfamiliar in her manner, something of which a glimmering had appeared on our way home through the wood.

“It is about Malors, Angela,” he continued.  “You were there.  You know all that happened.  Malors is very reasonable about it.  He admits that his actions may have seemed suspicious.  He will accept an apology from Mr. Ducaine, and remain.”

She turned to me.

“And you?” she asked.

“The idea of an apology,” I answered, “appears to me ridiculous.  My own poor little possessions were wholly at his disposal.  I caught him, however, in the act of meddling with papers which are mine only on trust.”

Lady Angela played for a moment with the dainty trifles which hung from her bracelet.  When she spoke she did not look at me.

“The Prince’s explanation,” she said, “is plausible, and he is our guest.  I think perhaps it would be wisest to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Doubt!” I exclaimed, bewildered.  “There is no room for doubt in the matter.”

Then she raised her eyes to mine, and I saw there new things.  I saw trouble and appeal, and behind both the shadow of mystery.

“Have you spoken to my father?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Did he accept—­your view?”

“He did not,” I answered bitterly.  “I could not convince him of what I saw with my own eyes.”

“You have done your duty, then,” she said softly.  “Why not let the rest go?  As you told us just now, this is not a personal matter, and there are reasons why he did not wish the Prince to leave suddenly.”