“King Konrad Karl will pay,” said Steinwitz.
“No, he won’t. He can’t. He hasn’t got it. There’s a cool ten thousand gone on a pearl necklace, as well as——”
“Goldsturmer is prepared to buy back the necklace,” said Steinwitz. “I have arranged that.”
“Well,” said Gorman, “it’s your affair, of course. But I wouldn’t be too sure. I don’t think Madame Ypsilante will sell at any price.”
“Madame Ypsilante will do what she must,” said Steinwitz. “The Emperor——”
“I don’t envy the Emperor the job of tackling her,” said Gorman. “He won’t find it a bit pleasant. I daresay he doesn’t know Madame Ypsilante. He wouldn’t be so cocksure of himself if he did. She’s the kind of woman who throws things about if she’s the least irritated. If the Emperor suggests her selling those jewels there’ll be a riot. But it’s no business of mine. If that Emperor of yours really enjoys a rag with a woman like Madame Ypsilante—I should have thought a man in his position wouldn’t care to be mixed up in the sort of scene there will certainly be.”
Steinwitz stiffened visibly. His hair always stands upright on his head. It actually bristled while Gorman was speaking.
“I do not,” he said, “discuss the Emperor in that way. It is enough for you to know this. Madame Ypsilante will sell. Goldsturmer will buy. I myself will settle these matters.”
Gorman was enjoying himself greatly. Nothing in the world gives him more pleasure than intercourse with a man who takes himself seriously. Steinwitz was a real delight. He was solemnly and ponderously serious about himself. He was pontifical about the Emperor.