Ferdinand of Lotzen was, doubtless, a bad lot.  Once that night he had given me to assassination; and, just now, he himself had deliberately tried to kill me.  He deserved no consideration; and, by every law of justification, could I, then and there, have driven my sword into his throat.  Maybe I wanted to do it, too.  We all are something of the savage at times.  And I think he fully expected to die.  He had told me frankly he purposed killing me, and he would not look for mercy, himself.  The dice had fallen against him.  He had lost.  And, like a true gambler, he was ready to pay stakes.  To give the fellow his due, he was brave; with the sort of bravery that meets death—­when it must—­with a smiling face and a steady eye.

And, so, for a space, we stood.  He, erect and ready.  I, with hand on hip and point advanced.

I heard the gasps of women—­a sob or two—­and then, the rustle of skirts, followed instantly by Courtney’s soft command.

“Stay, madame—­the matter is for His Highness only to decide.”

Lotzen laughed lightly.

“Strike, man,” he said, “or the petticoats will steal me from you.”

I stepped back and shot my sword into its sheath.

“Go,” I ordered.  “I do not want your life.  Only, depart this house straightway, and take your bravoes with you.  They will have no other opportunity to-night.  And, mark you, sir, no further meeting with the Gypsy—­now, nor hereafter.”

He bowed low.  “Monsieur is pleased to be generous,” he sneered.

But I gave him my back and, removing my mask, went over to my friends.

The Marquise met me with a perfect gale of apologies.  But I laughed them aside, telling her it was I who stood in need of pardon for becoming involved in such a breach of hospitality.

“Your Highness might have been killed,” she insisted, woman-like.

“But I wasn’t,” said I, “so, pray, think no more about it.”

Just then, Colonel Moore came up and, seeing us without our masks, he dropped his, also.  I watched Mademoiselle d’Essolde’s greeting to him.  It was all even he could have wished.

“I think it is about the supper hour,” said Lady Vierle.  “Let us go in.”

I offered her my arm and, masking again, we led the way.

“Will Your Highness tell me something?” she asked immediately.  “Did you know your antagonist?”

“I didn’t see his face,” I evaded.

She looked at me quickly.  “Would it be better for me not to know?”

“Yes,” said I, “I think it would.”

There was, really, no reason why I should shield Lotzen; yet, neither was there any reason to rattle a family skeleton in public, and raise a scandal, which would run the Kingdom over and be the gossip of every Court in Europe.

Then I lifted my mask so she could see my face.

“And, my dear Lady Vierle,” I said earnestly, “if you would do me a great favor, you will promise to forget all about this unfortunate incident.”