‘My God!’ cried he. ‘I cannot tell him! Sir, are you a friend of the Herr Baron?’
Rex nodded, and laying one hand upon Greif’s shoulder as though to make him keep his seat, rose and made a sign to the groom to follow him. But Greif would not submit to be treated like a child, and sprang up, seizing the man’s arm and drawing him nearer.
‘I will hear it myself,’ he said firmly. ‘Is it my father?’ he asked in uncertain tones. Karl nodded gravely.
‘I caught the train as I jumped from the saddle,’ he answered.
‘My mother sent you?’ asked Greif anxiously.
The groom shook his head, and his tremor increased, while he stared wildly about as though in search of some escape from his awful mission.
‘Speak, man!’ cried Greif, mad with anxiety. ‘My father is ill—and you are here though my mother did not send you—speak, I say.’
‘They are dead,’ answered Karl in a low voice.
Greif sank into his seat and covered his face. Suddenly Rex’s impenetrable eyes flashed, and he, last of the three, turned white to the lips.
‘Is there another gentleman at Greifenstein?’ he asked quickly.