“You speak truth. It is a substantial service.”
“There are thousands of suitable men in Europe. Why select me for the purpose?”
“Thousands of men—true. But only one Courtenay.”
Wilfrid did not controvert a remark so obviously just.
“The work,” continued the Count, “is one requiring a spirit that will dare great things.”
“Then, who more qualified for the task than Count Baranoff?”
“You are very good,” smiled the envoy. “But I was not at Saxony in the summer of 1792—you were.”
“So, too, were many other men in the year you mention.”
“True, but you were the central figure in a certain affair, forgotten by you, perhaps, but remembered by others. I will explain anon.”
The summer of 1792 was about eight and a half years back. Wilfrid hurriedly reviewing his brief sojourn in the kingdom of Saxony, could recall nothing to explain Baranoff’s words.