The Rat Trap
to Prince Georges, glancing around the room for others, seeking a friendly eye or a way of escepe.
The lodge—or that room of it wherein he stood—held five persons in addition to O'Rourke himself; respectively, Madame la Grande Duchesse, pale with rage, defiant of mien, helpless with the arms of Colonel Charles clipped tight about her; Chambret—at the sight of whom O'Rourke caught his breath with dismay—sitting helpless in a chair, his hands tied to the rungs thereof; Monsieur le Prince, Georges de Lützelburg, handsome and ironical of demeanor; and a fifth individual, in semi-uniform, whom O'Rourke guessed—and guessed rightly, it developed—for a surgeon of Lützelburg's army.
"Put down the saber," the Prince told him.
And O'Rourke let it fall from his hand, being in that case wherein discretion is the better part of valor. But though, he was now unarmed, the revolver continued to menace him.
"Let madame go," was the next command, directed to Colonel Charles, who promptly released the duchess.
"Messieurs," she cried, "I demand an explanation of this insolence."
Georges, from his chair, regarded her with lofty contempt. "It is strange," he mused aloud, "that a prince of Lützelburg should be addressed in such wise by a wench of the inns!"
"Ye contemptible scoundrel!" cried O'Rourke.
"Softly, monsieur, softly. I will attend to your case presently."
"At least ye will adopt a different tone to madame—" O'Rourke pursued undaunted.
"I shall order my conduct according unto my whim, monsieur. Another word out of you, and I'll settle you at once."
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