The Italian, astonished, was silent. He had arrived only that morning, and knew nothing of what had passed the evening before. He had met M. Goefle, but without knowing who he was. He could not speak Swedish, and still less Dalecarlian; and had found no one to talk to except the major-domo, who could speak a little French, but was very distrustful. Accordingly he was perfectly ignorant of the appearance of Christian Goefle at the ball, and really did not know what the baron was speaking about. The latter, on seeing his surprise and discomfiture, imagined that he was confounded, by finding him already in possession of the truth.
“Come,” he said, “speak out, and make an end of it. Tell me the whole. You may rely upon a recompense corresponding to the service which you may render me.”
But the Italian had already recovered his assurance. Persuaded that the baron was on a false scent, and resolved not to surrender his secret for an inadequate recompense, his only thought at present was to gain time, and to escape from the clutches of this man who was reputed so terrible, and who might play him an ill turn in case of a peremptory refusal to explain himself.
“Is your lordship willing,” he said, “to give me twenty-four thousand crowns, and allow me twenty-four hours to place in your presence, and within your power, the person whom it is so much for your interest to know?”
“Twenty-four thousand crowns is little,” replied the baron, ironically; “twenty-four hours is a great deal.”
“It is but little, for a man who is alone.”
“Are you in want of assistance? I have very adroit and trustworthy people in my employment.”
“If I am to share the twenty-four thousand crowns with them, I would rather act alone, at my own risk and peril.”
“But which is it that you propose to do?”
“Whatever your lordship shall direct.”