She looked at the three people who confronted her.  There was nothing reassuring in the faces of the two men.  The Princess leaned back in her chair and laughed.

“My dear child,” she said, “you have been asleep and dreamed these foolish things; or if not, these yokels to whom you have been listening are mad.  What harm do you suppose could come to Lord Ronald here?”

“I do not know,” Jeanne said, speaking in a low tone, and with the fear still in her dark eyes.

“I told you,” the Princess continued, “that there was some sort of a quarrel.  What of it?  Lord Ronald simply chose to go away.  Do you suppose that there is any one here who would think of trying to hinder him?  Look at us three and ask yourself if it is likely.  Look at Major Forrest here, for instance, who never loses his temper, and whose whole life is a series of calculations.  Or our host.  Look at him,” the Princess continued, with a little wave of her hand.  “He may have secrets that we know nothing of, but if he is a desperate criminal, I must say that he has kept the knowledge very well to himself.  As for me, you know very well that I quarrel with no one.  Le jeu ne vaut pas la peine.”

Jeanne drew a little breath.  Her face was less tragic.  There was a moment’s silence.  Then Cecil de la Borne moved toward the fireplace.  He was pale, but his manner was more composed.  The Princess’ speech, drawn out, and very slowly spoken, of deliberate intent, had achieved its purpose.  The first terror had passed away from all of them.

“I will ring the bell,” Cecil said, “and find out who these trespassers are, wandering about my grounds at this hour of the night.  Or shall we all go out and look for them ourselves?”

“As you will,” Forrest answered.  “Personally, I should think that Miss Jeanne has overheard some gossip amongst the servants, and misunderstood it.  However, this sort of thing is just as well put a stop to.”

A sudden peal rang through the house.  The front-door bell, a huge unwieldy affair, seldom used, because, save in the depths of winter, the door stood open, suddenly sent a deep resonant summons echoing through the house.  The bareness and height of the hall, and the fact that the room in which they were was quite close to the front door itself, perhaps accounted for the unusual volume of sound which seemed created by that one peal.  It was more like an alarm bell, ringing out into the silent night, than any ordinary summons.  Coming in the midst of those tense few seconds, it had an effect upon the people who heard it which was almost indescribable.  Cecil de la Borne was pale with the nervousness of the coward, but Forrest’s terror was a real and actual thing, stamped in his white face, gleaming in his sunken eyes, as he stood behind the card-table with his head a little thrust forward toward the door, as though listening for what might come next.  The Princess, if she was in any way discomposed, did not show it.  She sat erect in her chair, her head slightly thrown back, her eyebrows a little contracted.  It was as though she were asking who had dared to break in so rudely upon her pastime.  Jeanne had sunk back into the window, and was sitting there, her hands clasped together.