he blurted, as though it were something that he had frequently explained before. "It was stolen from under my very nose only a month ago! That's what I'm here for--my agents are after the thief, and I came to Geneva to meet them, to find out why they have not caught him. Do you imagine that I travel for pleasure at my age, Mr. John Armitage?"
Count von Stroebel's bluster was merely a cloak to hide his confusion--a cloak, it may be said, to which he did not often resort; but in this case he watched Armitage warily. He clearly expected some outburst of indignation from the young man, and he was unfeignedly relieved when Armitage, after opening and closing his eyes quickly, reached for a fresh cigarette and lighted it with the deft ease of habit.
"The packet has been stolen," he observed calmly; "whom do you suspect of taking it?"
The old man leaned upon the table heavily.
"That amiable Francis--"
"The suggestion is not dismaying. Francis would not know an opportunity if it offered."
"But his mother--she is the devil!" blurted the old man.
"Pray drop that," said Armitage in a tone that caused the old man to look at him with a new scrutiny. "I want the paper back for the very reason that it contains that awful indictment of her. I have been uncomfortable ever since I gave it to you; and I came to ask you for it that I might keep it safe in my own hands. But the document is lost,--am I to understand that Francis has it?"
"Not yet! But Rambaud has it, and Rambaud and Francis are as thick as thieves."
"I don't know Rambaud. The name is unfamiliar."
"He has a dozen names--one for every capital. He even operates in Washington, I have heard. He's a blackmailer, who aims high--a broker in secrets, a scandal-peddler. He's a bad lot, I tell you. I've had my best men after him, and they've just been here to report another failure. If you have nothing better to do--" began the old man.
"Yes; that packet must be recovered," answered Armitage. "If your agents have failed at the job it may be worth my while to look for it."
His quiet acceptance of the situation irritated the minister.
"You entertain me, John Armitage! You speak of that packet as though it were a pound of tea. Francis and his friends, Winkelried and Rambaud, are not chasers of fireflies, I would have you know. If the Archduke and his son are dead, then a few more deaths and Francis would rule the Empire."
John Armitage and Count von Stroebel stared at each other in silence.
"Events! Events!" muttered the old man presently, and he rested one of his hands upon the despatch box, as though it were a symbol of authority and power.
"Events!" the young man murmured.
"Events!" repeated Count von Stroebel without humor. "A couple of deaths and there you see him, on the ground and quite ready. Karl was a genius, therefore he could not be king. He threw away about five hundred years of work that had been done for him by other people--and he cajoled you into sharing his exile. You threw away your life for him! Bah! But you seem sane enough!"
The prime minister concluded with his rough burr; and Armitage laughed outright.
"Why the devil don't you go to Vienna and set yourself up like a gentleman?" demanded the premier.
"Like a gentleman?" repeated Armitage. "It is too late. I should die in Vienna in a week. Moreover, I am dead, and it is well, when one has attained that beatific advantage, to stay dead."
"Francis is a troublesome blackguard," declared the old man. "I wish to God he would form the dying habit, so that I might have a few years in peace; but he is forever turning up in some mischief. And what can you do about it? Can we kick him out of the army without a scandal? Don't you suppose he could go to Budapest tomorrow and make things interesting for us if he pleased? He's as full of treason as he can stick, I tell you."
Armitage nodded and smiled.
"I dare say," he said in English; and when the old statesman glared at him he said in German: "No doubt you are speaking the truth."
"Of course I speak the truth; but this is a matter for action, and not for discussion. That packet was stolen by intention, and not by chance, John Armitage!"
There was a slight immaterial sound in the hall, and the old prime minister slipped from German to French without changing countenance as he continued:
"We have enough troubles in Austria without encouraging treason. If Rambaud and his chief, Winkelried, could make a king of Francis, the brokerage--the commission--would be something handsome; and Winkelried and Rambaud are clever men."
"I know of Winkelried.
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