The Colonel’s face assumed at Heideck’s question a strangely serious, almost repellent expression.
“No.”
“But it is more than probable that she is in his camp.”
“Possibly, although up to now every proof of that is wanting.”
“But you will institute inquiries for her, will you not? You will compel the Maharajah to give us news of her whereabouts?”
“I can, at most, politely ask him for information. But I cannot promise you even that with certainty.”
Heideck was extremely surprised. He could not explain in any way the change in the Prince’s demeanour. And he would have been inclined to take his strange answers for a not too delicate jest, had not the frigid, impenetrable expression of his face at once excluded any suggestion of the sort.
“But I don’t understand, Prince,” he said, surprised. “It was only a few days ago that you were kind enough to promise me your active support in this matter.”
“I am to my regret compelled to cancel that promise; for I have received strict instructions from His Excellency to avoid everything that can lead to friction with the native Princes, and that my superiors laid great stress upon a good understanding with the Maharajah of Chanidigot was not known to me at the time of our conversation. He was the first who openly declared for Russia and whose troops have come over to our side. The happy issue of the Battle of Lahore is perhaps in no small degree due to him. You understand, Captain, that it would make the worst possible impression were we to come into conflict with a man so needful to us for such a trifling cause.”
“Trifling cause?” Heideck asked earnestly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.