"My dear Prince!" exclaimed Count von Markstein, taking into his gnarled old hands the two young, strong, white ones held out to him.
"My dear Chancellor!" echoed the bland Apollo, smiling, and wasting in that act dimples that would have transformed a plain woman into a beauty.
"You have been to my house?"
"I had. No doubt my friend Otto has seen and told you."
"He would be honoured by the appellation. It was the news he gave me 267 which brought me here in haste from the station."
"Good. You will dine with me, then. I insist! It was to be an early dinner, that I might call afterward on you at the first moment when your servants thought you likely to return."
"I thank you, and in other circumstances nothing could give me greater pleasure. But I have business of the sort which makes even a weary man forget the delights of good companionship and a good dinner."
"Is the business my business, Chancellor?"
"I hope that you will think it so. A least it is business that must be done now or never, and means life or death to those whom it concerns. How it is to be done, or whether done at all, depends upon you; and it could be placed in no more skilful hands. If I had been given my choice of an instrument out of the whole world, had I dared I would have chosen you."
"This sounds like an adventure."