“Yes,” replied Martin, stretching out his slight legs.
The prince laid aside his newspaper, and looked up quickly. When his attention was thus roused suddenly his eyes and his whole face were momentarily fierce. Some one had once said that the history of Poland was written on those deep-lined features.
“Anything wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing that affects affairs,” replied Martin. “Everything is safe.”
Which seemed to be catch-words, for Kosmaroff had made use of almost the identical phrases.
“I am quite confident that there is no danger to affairs,” continued Martin, speaking with the haste and vehemence of a man who is anxious to convince himself. “It was a mere mischance, but it gave us all a horrid fright, I can tell you—especially me, for I was doubly interested. Cartoner rode into our midst to-night.”
“Cartoner?” repeated the prince.
“Yes. He rang the bell, and when the door was opened—we were expecting some one else—he led his horse into our midst, with a loose shoe.”
“Who saw him?” asked the prince.
“Every one.”