He felt a touch on his sleeve. It was Nella's
finger.
With a gesture she beckoned him towards the ante-room.
'If you choose,' she said, when they were alone, 'Prince Eugen can
be saved.
I have arranged it.'
'You have arranged it?' He bent over her, almost with an air of
alarm. 'Go and tell him that the million pounds which is so
necessary to his happiness will be forthcoming. Tell him that it
will be forthcoming today, if that will be any satisfaction to him.'
'But what do you mean by this, Nella?'
'I mean what I say, Aribert,' and she sought his hand and took it in
hers.
'Just what I say. If a million pounds will save Prince Eugen's life, it
is at his disposal.'
'But how - how have you managed it? By what miracle?'
'My father,' she replied softly, 'will do anything that I ask him. Do
not let us waste time. Go and tell Eugen it is arranged, that all will
be well.
Go!'
'But we cannot accept this - this enormous, this incredible favour.
It is impossible.'
'Aribert,' she said quickly, 'remember you are not in Posen holding
a Court reception. You are in England and you are talking to an
American girl who has always been in the habit of having her own
way.'
The Prince threw up his hands and went back in to the bedroom.
The doctor was at a table writing out a prescription. Aribert
approached the bedside, his heart beating furiously. Eugen greeted
him with a faint, fatigued smile.
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