Our dinner was over. Both Mabane and myself had declined dessert. Our host rose.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have ordered coffee in the smoking-room. The head-waiter has told me of some wonderful brandy, and I have some cigars which I am anxious for you to try. Will you come this way?"
We were the only occupants of the smoking-room. The Baron appropriated a corner, and left us to fetch the cigars. Mabane lit a cigarette and leaned back in an easy-chair.
"It seems to me, Arnold," he said, "that you are like the man who found what he went out for to see. You wanted tragedy—and you came very near it. I do not quite see what the end of all these things will be. Our host——"
"There is a disappointment in store for him, I fancy," I interrupted. "He is a very faithful servant of the Archduchess, and he has worked hard for her. From his point of view his arguments are reasonable enough. All that he says is plausible—and yet—one feels that there is something behind it all. Allan, I don't trust one of these people! I can't!"
"Nor I," Allan answered softly, for the Baron had already entered the room.
He brought with him some wonderful cabanas, and immediately afterwards coffee and liqueurs were served. The moment the waiter had disappeared, he threw off all reserve.
"Come," he said, "I am no longer your host. We meet here on equal terms. I have an offer to make to you which I think you will find astonishing. The fact is, her Highness is anxious to run no risk of any resurrection of a certain scandal. She has commissioned me to beg your acceptance—you and your friend—of these," he laid down two separate pieces of paper upon the table. "She wishes to relieve you as soon as possible to-night, if you can arrange it—of the care of a certain young lady. There need be no hesitation about your acceptance. Royalty, as you know, has special privileges so far as regards bounty, and her Highness appreciates most heartily the care and kindness which the child has received at your hands."
I stared at my piece of paper. It was a cheque for five thousand pounds. I looked at Mabane's. It was a cheque for a like amount. Then I looked up at the Baron. The perspiration was standing out upon his forehead. He was watching us as a man might watch one in whose hands lay the power of life or death. I resisted my first impulse, which was simply to tear the cheque in two. I simply pushed it back across the table.
"Baron," I said, "if this is meant as a recompense for any kindness which we have shown to a friendless child, it is unnecessary and unacceptable. If it is meant," I added more slowly, "for a bribe, it is not enough."