"There is a telegram downstairs. Go down and get it and bring it here. Hurry."
The secretary was back in a few moments with the envelope, which he handed to the Minister, who cut it open and read the message. The ivory knife snapped in the tense grip; His Excellency looked idly at the pieces, but never a line of his face moved.
"Matters are a trifle more complicated, Wratslav. We must think again." He handed the telegram to his assistant. It read:
"A British subject presents his compliments to Your Excellency, and begs to assure you that the statement which he has written and sent under seal to the British Ambassador in Washington will not be opened or its contents made known to anyone except in the event of the sudden demise of Baron Griffin or James Saunders."
Wratslav returned the message to His Excellency and sat waiting. The slow thrumming was resumed. Then the Minister turned back to his desk, and his hand strayed to the papers on it.
"We may, perhaps, need both you and Ivan here in Washington for some time yet, Wratslav."
"Yes, Excellency."
The silence lasted a full minute.
"About the lady, Wratslav—" the Minister almost smiled; "it would be a great honor were she to visit the Ministry soon."
"Would she come, Excellency?"