"Oh, I know I wouldn't have a ghost of a chance, even if there wasn't a Vos Engo. It isn't that," he explained. "I recognise the--er--difference in our stations and--"
"Are you crazy, Mr. King?"
"Not now. I was a bit touched, I think, but I'm over it now. I dare say it was caused by excessive reading of improbable romances. Life rather takes it out of a fellow, don't you know. It's all simple enough in books, but in--"
"What has all this got to do with your plan to escape?"
"Nothing at all. It merely has to do with my ambition to become a true hero. You see, I'm an amateur hero. Of course, this is good practice for me; in time, I may become an expert and have no difficulty in winning a duchess or even a princess. Don't misunderstand me. I intend to do all I can toward rescuing you to-night. The point I'm trying to get at is this: don't you think it's pretty rough on a hero to save the girl for some other fellow to snap up and marry?"
"I think I begin to see," she said, a touch of pink coming into her cheeks.
"That's encouraging," he said, staring gloomily at the food he had put aside. "You are quite sure you promised Vos Engo that you'd marry him?"
"No. I did not promise him that I'd marry him," she said, leaning back and surveying him between narrowed lids.
"I beg your pardon. You said you had promised--"
"You did not allow me time to finish. I meant to say that I had promised to let him know in a day or two. That is all, Mr. King." There was a suspicious tremor in her voice and her gaze wavered beneath his unbelieving stare.
"What's that?" he demanded. "You--you don't mean to say that--Oh, Lord! I wonder! I wonder if I have a chance--just a ghost of a chance?" He leaned very close, incredulous, fascinated. "What is it that you are going to let him know? Yes or no?"
"That was the question I was considering when the brigands caught me," she answered, meeting his gaze fairly. "I haven't thought of it since."
"Of course, he is in your own class," said Truxton glumly.
She hesitated an instant, her face growing very serious. "Mr. King, has no one told you my name--who I am?" she asked.
"You are the Prince's aunt, that's all I know."
"No more his aunt in reality than Jack Tullis is his uncle. I thought you understood."
"Who are you, then?"
"I am Jack Tullis's sister, a New Yorker bred and born, and I live not more than two blocks from your--"