"Confine me!"--nonplussed. This was more than I had reckoned on.
"Yes." She reached out to strike the gong. (I can not be blamed for
surrendering so tamely. I didn't know that the old servitor was the
only man around.)
"I am the American consul at Barscheit."
The two women drew together instinctively, as if one desired to protect
the other from some unknown calamity. What the deuce was it all about?
All at once Gretchen thrust aside her friend and approached. The table
was between us, and she rested her hands upon it. Our glances met and
clashed.
"Did the duke send you here?" she demanded repellently.
"The duke?" I was getting deeper than ever. "The duke?"
"Yes. I am the Princess Hildegarde."