“Yes.”
It was a moment for mental reservations. One wonders whether such are taken account of in heaven.
“And Paul?” asked the Count Stipan Lanovitch at once. “Tell me about him.”
“He is married,” answered Steinmetz.
The Count Lanovitch was looking at the lamp. He continued to look at it as if interested in the mechanism of the burner. Then he turned his eyes to the face of his companion.
“I wonder, my friend,” he said slowly, “how much you know?”
“Nothing,” answered Steinmetz.
The count looked at him enquiringly, heaved a sharp sigh, and abandoned the subject.
“Well,” he said, “let us get to business. I have much to ask and to tell you. I want you to see Catrina and to tell her that I am safe and well, but she must not attempt to see me or correspond with me for some years yet. Of course you heard no account of my trial. I was convicted, on the evidence of paid witnesses, of inciting to rebellion. It was easy enough, of course. I shall live either in the south or in Austria. It is better for you to be in ignorance.”
Steinmetz nodded his head curtly.