"It doesn't matter," said I. "He can't get into the castle while the gates are locked, and, by Jove, I intend to keep them locked."
"What a delightful ogre you are, Mr. Smart," said she.
Nevertheless, I did not sleep well that night. The presence of the two detectives outside my gates was not to be taken too lightly. Unquestionably they had got wind of something that aroused suspicion in their minds. I confidently expected them to reappear in the morning, perhaps disguised as workmen. Nor were my fears wholly unjustified.
Shortly after nine o'clock a sly-faced man in overalls accosted me in the hall.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Smart," he said in fairly good English, "may I have a word with you? I have a message from Mr. Pless." I don't believe he observed the look of concern that flitted across my face.
"From Mr. Pless?" I inquired, simulating surprise. Then I looked him over so curiously that he laughed in a quiet, simple way.
"I am an agent of the secret service," he explained coolly. "Yesterday I failed to gain admission as a visitor, to-day I come as a labourer. We work in a mysterious way, sir."
"Is it necessary for Mr. Pless to resort to a subterfuge of this character in order to get a message to me?" I demanded indignantly.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"It was not necessary yesterday, but it is to-day," said he. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Our every movement is being watched by the Countess's detectives. We are obliged to resort to trickery to throw them off the scent. Mr. Pless has read what you had to say in the newspapers and he is too grateful, sir, to subject you to unnecessary annoyance at the hands of her agents. Your friendship is sacred to him. He realises that it means a great deal to have the support of one so powerful with the United States government. If we are to work together, Mr. Smart, in bringing this woman to justice, it must be managed with extreme skill or her family may—"