“What is it?” asked Leopold.
“I hinted that I had more information which I could not give you then. But I am in a different position now. You did not find your friends in the Orient Express.”
“No,” said the Emperor.
“They gave out that they were leaving Rhaetia. But they haven’t crossed the frontier.”
“Thanks. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.”
“You remember a certain person whose name can’t be mentioned over the telephone, buying a hunting lodge near the village of Inseleden, in the Buchenwald, last year?”
“Yes. I remember very well. But what has that to do with my friends?”
“The younger lady has gone there without her mother, who remains in Kronburg, with the companion. It seems that the present owner of the hunting lodge has been acquainted with them for some time, though he was ignorant of their masquerade. You see, he knows them only under their real name. The young lady is a singer in comic operas, a Miss Jenny Brett, whose dossier can be given you on demand. The owner of the hunting lodge arrived at his place this morning, motored into Kronburg, where the young lady had waited, evidently informed of his coming. She invited him to pay her a visit at her hotel; he accepted, and returned the invitation, which she accepted.”
“You are misinformed. The lady was never an opera singer. And I’m certain she would neither receive the person you mention, nor go to visit him.”
“Will you drive out to the lodge to-night, when you reach Kronburg, and honor the gentleman with an unexpected call?”