In the chamber of finance Colonel Beauvais leaned over the desk and perused the writing on a slip of paper which the minister had given him. Enough daylight remained to permit the letters to stand out legibly. When he had done the Colonel tossed back the missive, and the minister tore it into shreds and dropped them into the waste basket.
“So much for your pains,” said Beauvais. “The spy, who has eaten up ten thousand crowns, is not worth his salt. He has watched this man Hamilton for two days, been his guide in the hills, and yet learns nothing. And the rigor of the customs is a farce.”
“This day,” replied the minister, “the police lost its jurisdiction over the customs. Complaints have been entered at the British legation, which forwarded them to the chancellor.”
“O ho!” The Colonel pulled his mustache.
“I warned you against this. The chancellor is a man to be respected, whatever his beliefs. I warned you and Mollendorf of the police what the result would be. The chancellor has a hard hand when it falls. He was always bold; now he is more so since he practically stands alone. In games of chance one always should play close. You are in a hurry.”
“I have waited six years.”
“And I have waited fourteen.”
“Well, then, I shall pass into the active. I shall watch this Englishman myself. He is likely to prove the agent. Count, the time for waiting is gone. If the debt is liquidated or renewed—and there is Prince Frederick to keep in mind—we shall have played and lost. Disgrace for you; for me—well, perhaps there is a power behind me too strong. The chancellor? Pouf! I have no fear of him. But you who laugh at the archbishop—”
“He is too old.”
“So you say. But he has dreams unknown to us. He has ceased to act; why? He is waiting for the curtain to rise. Nothing escapes him; he is letting us go to what end we will, only, if we do not act at once, to draw us to a sudden halt. Now to this meddling Englishman: we have offered him a million—five millions for four. He laughs. He is a millionaire. With characteristic bombast he declares that money has no charms. For six months, since his father's death, we have hounded him, in vain. It is something I can not understand. What is Leopold to these Englishmen that they risk a princely fortune to secure him his throne? Friendship? Bah, there is none.”