Peter Ruff nodded.
“Where is Count von Hern?” he asked abruptly.
“Inside, dancing.”
“I must use a telephone at once,” Peter Ruff said. “Ask one of the servants here where I can find one.”
Peter Ruff was conducted to a gloomy waiting room, on the table of which stood a small telephone instrument. He closed the door, but he was absent for only a few minutes. When he rejoined Lady Mary and her brother they were talking together in agitated whispers. The latter turned towards him at once.
“Do you mean that you suspect Count von Hern?” he asked, doubtfully. “He is a friend of the Danish Minister’s, and every one says that he’s such a good chap. He doesn’t seem to take the slightest interest in politics—spends nearly all his time hunting or playing polo.”
“I don’t suspect any one,” Peter Ruff answered. “I only know that Count von Hern is an Austrian spy, and that he took your paper! Has he been out of your sight at all since you rejoined him in the sitting room? I mean to say—had he any opportunity of leaving you during the time you were dining together, or did he make any calls en route, either on the way to the Savoy or from the Savoy here?”
The young man shook his head.
“He has not been out of my sight for a second.”
“Who is the other man—Jermyn?” Peter Ruff asked. “I never heard of him.”