De Lamborne nodded.
“You perceive,” he said, “the immense importance of the affair. The very existence of that document is almost a casus belli.”
“At what time did the despatch arrive,” the Baron asked, “and what has been its history since?”
“It arrived at six o’clock, and went straight into the inner pocket of my coat; it has not been out of my possession for a single second. Even while I talk to you I can feel it.”
“And your plans? How are you intending to dispose of it to-night?”
“On my return to the Embassy I shall place it in the safe, lock it up, and remain watching it until morning.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much chance for Bernadine,” the Baron remarked, thoughtfully.
“But there must be no chance—no chance at all,” Monsieur de Lamborne asserted, with a note of passion in his thin voice. “It is incredible, preposterous, that he should even make the attempt. I want you to come home with me and share my vigil. You shall be my witness in case anything happens. We will watch together.”
De Grost reflected for a moment.
“Bernadine makes few mistakes,” he said, thoughtfully. Monsieur de Lamborne passed his hand across his forehead.