By virtue of fate and the obstinacy of one Dickey Savage, two of Quentin’s supporters, in direct disobedience of his commands, were whirling toward the spot on which so many minds were centered.  From a distance Savage and Turk saw him rush from the carriage and up the broad stone steps that led to the darkened veranda.  From other points of view, Jules Courant and his men saw the same and the former knew that Turk’s visit in the afternoon had resulted in the granting of an interview.  No sooner had Quentin entered the house than a man was despatched swiftly to inform Prince Ugo that he had not been denied.

Mrs. Garrison met him in the hall alone.  There was defiance in her manner, but he had not come thus far to be repulsed by such a trifle as her opposition.  With rare cordiality he advanced and extended his hand.

“Good evening, Mrs. Garrison.  I hardly expected to find you and Dorothy quite alone at this time of night.”  She gave him her hand involuntarily.  He had a way about him and she forgot her resolve under its influence.  There was no smile on her cold face, however.

“We are usually engaged at this hour, Mr. Quentin, but to-night we are at home to no one but you,” she said, meaningly.

“It’s very good of you.  Perhaps I would better begin by ending your suspense.  Dorothy refused to see me to-day and I suspect the cause.  I am here for an explanation from her because I think it is due me.  I came also to tell you that I love her and to ask her if she loves me.  If she does not, I have but to retire, first apologizing for what you may call reprehensibility on my part in presuming to address her on such a matter when I know she is the promised wife of another.  If she loves me, I shall have the honor to ask you for her hand, and to ask her to terminate an engagement with a man she does not love.  I trust my mission here to-night is fully understood.”

“It is very plain to me, Mr. Quentin, and I may be equally frank with you.  It is useless.”

“You will of course permit me to hear that from the one who has the right to decide,” he said.

“My daughter consented to receive you only because I advised her to do so.  I will not speak now of your unusual and unwarranted behavior during the past month, nor will I undertake to say how much annoyance and displeasure you have caused.  She is the affianced wife of Prince Ravorelli and she marries him because she loves him.  I have given you her decision.”  For a moment their eyes met like the clashing of swords.

“Has she commissioned you to say this to me?” he asked, his eyes penetrating like a knife.

“I am her mother, not her agent.”

“Then I shall respectfully insist that she speak for herself.”  If a look could kill a man, hers would have been guilty of murder.