Pachmann dressed hastily, and, as he did so, considered whether he should hunt up the Prince and summon him, also, to this conference. He decided against it. He foresaw that in this affair there would be many things which it would be unwise for the Prince to know—he had sat staring like an idiot, last night, while the mad Pole raved about love and mercy and universal brotherhood; he was too young, too easily impressed, too soft of heart. He had agreed that victory must be won at any price, but Pachmann very well knew that he had no idea of how terrible that price was almost certain to be. No; the Prince must be kept as much as possible on the borders of this affair! So, having finished dressing, the Admiral went forward alone to the Captain's cabin.
He found the Captain sitting at his desk, and his face was so grave that it gave Pachmann a little start.
He rose and greeted the Admiral, and then glanced over the latter's shoulder, as though expecting to see some one else.
"You did not bring the Prince?" he asked.
"Do you think it necessary?" retorted Pachmann, tartly.
Hausmann hesitated.
"I am not, of course, aware of your relative positions in this affair," he said, finally.
"The paper I showed you yesterday should have told you that," said Pachmann quickly. "The affair has been in my hands from the first. The Prince was sent along because his father wished to separate him from a Berlin bar-maid."
"Ah, so," said the Captain, without smiling. "I understand. Be seated." He did not like Pachmann, and also, perhaps, he found the jesting reference to the royal love affairs in bad taste. "A very strange thing has occurred," he continued. "I stationed one of my men outside the door, last night, in order that you might not be interrupted."
"Yes," agreed the Admiral, "and he did his duty very well. We were not interrupted."