CHAPTER XXIIFawley, gentle though he was in his methods, was running no risks. He seated himself at his desk, his revolver lying within a few inches of his fingers. Patoni was a yard or so away towards the middle of the room. Elida was on Fawley’s left.
“What do you want with me, Prince Patoni?” Fawley asked.
The Italian’s eyes were full of smouldering anger.
“A great deal,” he answered. “General Berati has sent me here with an order which I have in my pocket—you can see it when you choose—that you accompany me at once to Rome. Furthermore, I am here to know what my cousin the Princess Elida is doing in London, and particularly what she is doing in your room at this hour of the night.”
“That is my own affair entirely,” Elida declared. “He is an impertinent fellow, this cousin of mine,”
