"Yes. That will perhaps make my laxity with regard to Herr Renwick's sudden appearance the more pardonable," said Windt, with a professional air.
Marishka, who had listened with growing inquietude to these revelations of her danger, had risen and paced nervously the length of the room.
"But why?" she pleaded. "Who can dare to molest me in my own home or in the streets of Vienna?"
Herr Windt rubbed his injured eye gravely.
"The Countess Strahni has unfortunately become a political document, the possession of which, I may even say the suppression of which, is highly important."
Marishka sank upon the couch, and for a moment buried her face in her hands.
"But what would be gained by getting me out of the way? I have already told what I know."
Herr Windt smiled.
"As Herr Renwick would perhaps inform you, the place for an important document is the safe. If the document is harmless a desk may do. If it is incriminating, like you, Countess"—he said with a dramatic gesture—"the fire!"
Renwick by this time had risen and stood fitting his monocle into his eye.