"Yes, for a moment. He took the letter, laughed and seemed rather pleased, and then gave me the message—that he would go to the house at once."
"You think he would know you again?"
"Oh, yes, I am sure of that."
"Good. Now, you are going to betray me to him. He is desperately anxious to know the whereabouts of the Countess von Ostelen, and you are going to be scoundrel enough to take advantage of my absence from home to tell him where to find her. It will be hard for your mother's son to be a scoundrel, James, I know."
"I hope so, miss, with all my heart."
"But as scoundrels can play at honesty, there's no reason why honest men shouldn't sometimes get a bit of their own back by playing at villainy. You are deeply interested in the troubles of the Countess von Ostelen; you have been shocked by my rather cruel treatment of her; you have heard her ask me again and again to let her leave the house; and your chivalry is roused because I keep her locked in her room. Realize that part of your feelings, and think it over, because that is the sly hypocrisy on the surface of your conduct."
"I am afraid I am a bigger rascal than I thought," he said.
"I am sure you will be to-morrow when you see him. Of course you have another motive—which you understand will be dragged out of you when the Count, who will be suspicious, begins to question you. You want money and a place in the household of the Duke, his father. The dollars will be the main thing. Half the sum down before you open your lips: the rest when you complete the work. That is, the Count is to give it to you when you let him into the house to fetch the lady away."
"What sum should I name?" he asked with a grin.
"I don't think a thousand dollars would be too much for such information; but this is a poor country, so we'll put it at about half that—fifteen hundred gulden. Your honour is worth more than that, James; but, as good Americans, we must gauge the conditions of the market. Take those letters now, and when you come back I will have ready for you a letter in bad German, which you will copy—telling the Count you are my servant and have something pressing on your conscience—hypocrites always have bulging consciences, James—that it concerns a lady who is a prisoner in my house, and that you will pay him a visit to-morrow at half-past eleven. He has a serious appointment here at twelve; but when you tell him that you can get him into my house just after that hour, he will prefer to keep the appointment with you instead of coming here."