“The duke,” he whispered, “does not like rivals, sire.”
“You’re right there,” said I, with all sincerity. “But surely you hint at a very grave charge?”
He spread his hands out in apology. I whispered in his ear:
“This is a grave matter. Go back to Strelsau—”
“But, sire, if I have a clue here?”
“Go back to Strelsau,” I repeated. “Tell the Ambassador that you have a clue, but that you must be left alone for a week or two. Meanwhile, I’ll charge myself with looking into the matter.”
“The Ambassador is very pressing, sir.”
“You must quiet him. Come, sir; you see that if your suspicions are correct, it is an affair in which we must move with caution. We can have no scandal. Mind you return tonight.”
He promised to obey me, and I rode on to rejoin my companions, a little easier in my mind. Enquiries after me must be stopped at all hazards for a week or two; and this clever official had come surprisingly near the truth. His impression might be useful some day, but if he acted on it now it might mean the worse to the King. Heartily did I curse George Featherly for not holding his tongue.
“Well,” asked Flavia, “have you finished your business?”