"Your father nourished a particular rancor against the late duke."
"And justly, you will admit."
"Her Highness has offered you five millions for slips of paper
worth no more than the ink which decorates them."
"And I have refused. Why? Simply because the matter does not
rest with me. You have proceeded with a high hand, Madame, or
rather your duchess has. Nothing will come of it. Had there been
any possibility of my considering your proposals, this kidnaping
would have destroyed it."
She smiled. Maurice saw the smile and stopped whistling long
enough to scratch his chin, which was somewhat in need of a
razor. He had seen many women smile that way. He had learned to
read it. It was an inarticulate "perhaps."
"The rightful successor to the throne--"
"Is Madame the duchess," Fitzgerald completed. "I haven't the
slightest doubt of that. One way or the other, it does not
concern me. I came here simply to fulfill the wishes of my
father; and my word, Madame, fulfill them I shall. You are
holding me a prisoner, but uselessly. On the twentieth the
certificates fall due against the government. If they are not
presented either for renewal or collection, the bankruptcy
scheme of your duchess will fall through just the same.
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