Von Stromberg gave a dry chuckle.
“The supposition does not flatter his intelligence or mine. Aside from the difficulties of his position at present, if he were seeking information as to the plans of the Empire, he would have about as much chance of getting away from here alive as you would have, Herr Rizzio, in the same circumstances.”
The old man towered to his full height and brought his huge fist down with a crash upon the table which startled Rizzio, who fingered his mustache, his face a shade paler.
“I am glad, Excellenz,” he said with a laugh, “that I am not in Hammersley’s shoes.”
Disregarding Rizzio’s comment, the old man paced the floor again, storming.
“The other question that I would like to ask you is, what has become of Herr Maxwell?”
Rizzio started up, now in genuine concern.
“Have you not heard from him, Excellenz?”
“No,” roared the other. “Why haven’t I? You should know.”
“I do not know. I saw him the day I left London for Scotland. He was fully informed of all that had happened. Could it be that——”