Don't
deny. It will be useless."
His excellency didn't deny; he had a suspicion of what was coming.
"You will call up the officer in command on the bridge and give him the
order to make at once for the nearest American port. You will ask him
how far it is and how soon we can get there? Beyond that, you will say
nothing, make no explanations, or utter a single superfluous word."
"Very well." The prince, seemingly acquiescent, but with a dangerous
glitter in his eyes, moved toward the telephone.
"One moment!"
The nobleman stopped with his hand near a receiver. His fingers
trembled.
"You will speak in French. A syllable of Russian, just one, and--" Mr.
Heatherbloom's expression left no doubt as to his meaning.
"Dog!" His excellency's swollen face became the hue of paper. An instant
he seemed about to spring--then managed to control himself. "But why
should I not speak in Russian? My officers know no French."
"A lie! Nearly all Russian officers speak French. I happen to know yours
do." A newspaper article had made the statement and he did not doubt it.
"Anyhow, you give the order in French and we'll see what happens.
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