Von Hügelweiler's glance took in the nature of the other man's diversion, and a suspicion of contempt showed itself in his curling lip.
"I have news, sir," he said.
"Out with it!"
"Karl is alive!"
"So Gottfried said. The Iron Maiden seems to have grown humane in her old age."
Hügelweiler studied the man whose influence was then paramount in Weidenbruck, and his contempt grew. In common with others, he had been wont to fear Bernhardt. The burning eyes, the quick, imperious brain, the general air of reckless strength were things that impressed the well-born soldier, as they impressed the low-born mob. But Bernhardt sipping absinthe was a different person from the fire-brand of the revolution, and Hügelweiler realised that the lethargic sensualist of the arm-chair needed strong words to rouse him.
"The Iron Maiden has not grown humane," he said, "but there is a traitor in our midst."
Bernhardt sipped pensively.
"How very interesting!" he said.
"Very!" echoed Hügelweiler scornfully. "Before Karl was put into the Eisenmädchen someone had removed the spikes. The pretended execution was nothing more nor less than a scheme to save the King's life."