He wiped all the thoughts away, and showed to Vassili a face that was as composed and impertinent as usual.
"You said 'her--eh--husband,'" he observed.

"Why?
Why did you add that little 'eh,' my friend ?" Vassili rose and walked to the door that led through into his bedroom from the salon in which they were sitting.

It was possible to enter the bedroom from another door and overhear any conversation that might be passing in the sitting-room.

The investigation was apparently satisfactory, for the Russian came back.

But he did not sit down.
Instead, he stood leaning against the tall china stove.
"Needless to tell you," he observed, "the antecedents of the--princess." "Quite needless." "Married seven years ago to Charles Sydney Bamborough," promptly giving the unnecessary information which was not wanted.
De Chauxville nodded.
"Where is Sydney Bamborough ?" asked Vassili, with his mask-like smile.
"Dead," replied the other quietly.
"Prove it." De Chauxville looked up sharply.