“Dear, dear,” said Canon Ebley, “but we must get at the facts of when she has been able to see this Russian.  It is impossible that the present state of things could have arisen from merely last night at the Embassy.”

At this stage of the proceedings, it being a public room, Count Roumovski entered it serenely and, coming toward the group, made a stiff bow to each in turn.

“I believe you have received my letter, sir,” he said, addressing Canon Ebley, “but, as I have had no reply, I ventured to present myself without further delay—­”

“We do not wish for any communication from you,” Eustace Medlicott hastened to announce before either of the others could speak.  “I have informed Canon and Mrs. Ebley of your disgraceful conduct and that is sufficient.  We shall discuss nothing further.”

“I was not addressing you, sir,” Count Roumovski returned mildly.  “My business with you terminated last night.”  And he turned his shoulders to the irate junior chaplain and looked Canon Ebley straight in the face.  “I am here to ask for the hand of your niece, Miss Rawson, as she is now free from other engagements, and with her full consent I desire to make her my wife.”

“Come, Erasmus,” Mrs. Ebley said with icy dignity.  “Let us go up to our apartment and if this person annoys us further we can complain to the manager of the hotel,” then, with an annihilating glance, she took her husband’s arm and drew him toward the door.

“As you will, madame,” and the Russian gentleman bowed with respectful serenity.  “It would have been more sensible to have taken my request otherwise, but it is, after all, quite immaterial.  I will wish you a good-day,” and he bowed again as Canon Ebley and his outraged spouse sailed from the room—­and, with an exclamation of suppressed fury, Eustace Medlicott followed in their wake.

Then Count Roumovski laughed softly to himself and, sitting down at a writing-table, wrote a letter to his beloved.  His whole plan of life was simple and direct.  He had done what he considered was necessary in the affair, he had behaved with perfect openness and honor in his demand, and if these people could not see the thing from a common sense point of view, they were no longer to be considered.  He would take the law into his own hands.

When he had finished his note he went straight up in the lift to the corridor where Stella’s room was and there saw in the distance her raging and discomfited late betrothed evidently keeping watch and ward.  Count Roumovski did not hesitate a second; he advanced to the door and knocked firmly on the panel, slipping his letter through the little slide for such things before Mr. Medlicott could bound forward and prevent him.

“A letter for you, mademoiselle, from me, Sasha Roumovski,” he said in French in a loud enough voice for the occupant of the room to hear, and then he stood still for a second, as both men heard Stella jump from her bed and rush to the door to take the missive before Martha from the place at the window could intercept it.