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“I did not mean to imply that you had. There is one thing,” I added, as an idea occurred to me. “Shall I send for Prince Kalkov?”

“Under no circumstances shall he cross my door,” she answered with prompt and unmistakable resolution.

“Will you postpone dealing with those papers then until I have had an opportunity of consulting him? That may prove a solution.”

“I know Prince Kalkov too well. Within five minutes of your leaving my house those papers will be on their way to the destination I have indicated.”

“Then in Heaven’s name what are we to do?”

“If you will listen to my story you will see that Prince Kalkov is the man I accuse.”

“But there are insuperable reasons why I cannot and will not listen.”

“Then it is for you to find the solution.”

“I can probably do that if I can communicate with him.”

“Shall I order the carriage again?”

Checkmate again, and I tossed up my hands in hopeless perplexity.

She was obviously resolved that I should hear all she had to say, and I was equally determined, knowing the worse than futility of the thing, not to listen to her; and there we sat, in a contest of wills and wits, until the absurd side of the position began to appeal to me.