"It is horrible—and I—I will have been the cause——"
She sank into her chair and buried her face in her hands.
"Perhaps now you will understand my motive in coming to you," he said softly. "I have no desire but to serve you. England has no further concern for Archduke Ferdinand. Forewarned is forearmed. His sting is already drawn. But death, like this—sudden, violent, without a chance—England has never looked with kindness upon the killing of women, Countess Strahni."
"It is horrible," she whispered. "Horrible! I cannot believe——"
"Unfortunately I can give you none of the sources of my information. But whatever my sins in your eyes, at least you will admit that I am not given to exaggeration. You may still believe that I have taken a liberty in coming to you; but the situation admits of no delay. The telegraph lines are in the hands of the Archduke's enemies. The Archduke and Duchess leave Konopisht in the morning by special train, but there is still time to reach them."
Marishka had risen, and was now pacing the floor, her hands nervously clasped before her.
"I see. I—I—understand. I—I should be grateful that you have told me. But it is all so sudden. So terrible!"
She paused before him.
"I have betrayed her," she stammered through pallid lips.
"You could do nothing else. His fortunes are hers——"