"Come, Grand Master," he said, "I think that you do.
However, if Pimentel has carried off the damsel, there, it seems
to me, is an end of the matter."
"But, sire," I answered, looking sternly round the grinning
circle, "am I mad, or is there some mystery here? I assured your
Majesty yesterday that Mademoiselle D'Oyley was not in my house.
I say the same to-day. She is not; your officers may search
every room and closet. And for the woman whom M. Pimentel has
carried off, she is no more Mademoiselle D'Oyley than I am; she
is one of my wife's waiting-maids. If you doubt me," I
continued, "you have only to send and ask. Ask the Portuguese
himself."
The King stared at me. "Nonsense!" he said, sharply. "If
Pimentel has carried off anyone, it must be Mademoiselle
D'Oyley."
"But it is not, sire," I answered with persistence. "He has
broken into my house, and abducted my servant. For Mademoiselle,
she is not there to be stolen."
"Let some one go for Pimentel," the King said curtly.
But the Portuguese, as it happened, was at the door even then,
and being called, had no alternative but to come forward.
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