"Again I thank you for what you have done," he brought himself to say, almost graciously. "In the years to come, you will always keep the secret?"
"After to-morrow, more than ever," I said. And he was satisfied.
"Father," interrupted Solonika with sudden feeling, "who is the Grand Duke of Novgorod?"
The old man straightened as if he had received an unexpected blow from which he needed time to recover. He smiled cunningly at his daughter to conceal his lack of pleasure.
"The Grand Duke of Novgorod?" he echoed, thinking hard. "Who spoke of him?"
"Ah," said she, "then there is a royal house in Bharbazonia. Nicholas Fremsted was right."
"Fremsted, the American?"
"He is not an American. I have done as you wished. I made him speak in the language. I think he is Bharbazonian."
"As I suspected," murmured the Duke. He resumed his walk thoughtfully, stopping now and then to exclaim: "Ah, I see! I see! That would explain it."
But what he saw, or what had been explained, he kept to himself, and came out of his reverie only when Solonika repeated her former question.