him touched him not in the
quick. Love or hate from this woman who knew him for what he was, a
soulless scoundrel, was nothing. She was simply a sack of gold. But this
was his hour of triumph, and he proposed to make the most of it.

"I could have let the _carabinieri_ take you to prison," he said
urbanely. "A night in a damp cell would have chastened your spirit. But
I preferred to settle this affair as quickly as possible. But this
friend of yours, he annoys me."

"Is it possible?" returned Hillard. "Your Highness has but to say the
word and I will undertake the pleasure of relieving you of this man's
presence."

"Be still," she said. "Will you go?" to the prince.

"Presently. First, I wish to add that your dear friend is both
thick-skulled and cowardly. I offered to slap his face a few nights ago,
but he discreetly declined."

Hillard laughed shortly. He desired to get closer to this gentlemanly
prince.

"For my sake!" whispered La Signorina.

"I am calm," replied Hillard, gently releasing his arm from her grasp.
He approached the prince smiling, but there was murder and despair in
his heart. "Had I known you that night, one of us would not be here
now."

"It is not too late," suggested the prince. "Come, are you in love with
my wife?"

"Yes."

The bluntness of this assertion rather staggered the prince. "You admit
it, then?" his throat swelling with rage.

"There is no reason why I should deny it."

"She is your--"

But the word died with a cough. Hillard, a wild joy in his heart, caught
the prince by the throat and jammed him back against the rose-satin
panel, under a dripping candelabrum. The prince made a violent effort to
draw his sword, but Hillard seized his sword-arm and pinned it to the
panel above his head. The prince was an athlete, but the man holding him
was at this moment made of iron. The struggling man threw out a leg
after the manner of French boxers, but his opponent met it with a knee.
Again and again the prince made desperate attempts to free himself. He
was soon falling in a bad way; he gasped, his lips grew blue and the
whites of his eyes bloodshot. This man was killing him! And so he was;
for Hillard, realizing that he had lost everything in the world worth
living for, was mad for killing.

[Illustration: Again and again the prince made desperate attempts to
free himself]

For a time the others were incapable of action. Merrihew, Kitty, O'Mally
and Smith were in the dark a