The man with the cloak, Count Polnychek, whirled his captive around facing him with a heavy grip on his shoulder.
“So?” cried he, “I know you now! You sat with two others at an adjacent table there in the tanzenhaus! You are a spy then? You were eavesdropping on our conversation. Did it interest you so much that you were constrained to follow me all this distance?”
“It interested me,” said Ned shortly, meeting his glare coolly, eye to eye. His calmness enraged the old count still more.
“And what did you hear, you snake?” he growled, stepping closer and thrusting his bearded face close to that of the undaunted boy. “Quick now! Tell me what you overheard!”
“It would be no news to you, Count Polnychek, of Budapest,” said Ned.
“Donnerwetter! You even know my name then! You show your teeth to me, do you? Are you aware that your life is wholly at my mercy?”
Ned disdained to answer him.
“Will you tell me how much you know?”
Silence.
“Marya!”