The Archduke took it, without comment—he knew it must be of peculiar importance to bring Moore in person at that hour. When he had read it, he looked carefully at the envelope, and turning on his desk lamp, he spread the letter under it and examined it very slowly and critically; finally he re-read it aloud:—
“‘If His Royal Highness the Archduke Armand wish to know the whereabouts of a certain Book, let him be at the Inn of the Twisted Pines at four o’clock this afternoon. No harm is intended; and as a proof he is privileged to bring as large an escort as he desires. If he accept, let him stand in a window of his private office, overlooking the Avenue, for five minutes at exactly noon to-day. This is his only chance; there will be no second letter.
“‘One Who Knows.’”
“Well,” said he, “the writer at least knows how to put up a very enticing bait—‘privileged to bring as large an escort as he desires—at four o’clock this afternoon—at the Inn of the Twisted Pines’—surely, there is nothing in them to suggest danger, daggers or death.... I think we shall accept, Colonel; what’s your notion about it?”
“If it is a plant,” he said, “it’s a very clever one—and hence spells Lotzen; but, for my part, I’ll be charmed to go with you, whatever it is.”
The Archduke smiled. “Of course you will, you peaceful citizen, and be sadly disappointed if there isn’t a head for you to hit. It’s just as well I gave you to the Regent, you would be leading me into all sorts of danger.”
“And Your Highness has established such a splendid reputation for avoiding danger,” Moore laughed.
“How so?”
“Did it never occur to you, sir, that the man who would deliberately force a sword fight with the Duke of Lotzen, has won a name for reckless courage that he can never live down?”
“But I disarmed him, thanks to your defense to his coup.”
“Small good would my defense have been to one who hadn’t the nerve and skill to use it; to fail means death, as you, of course, appreciated.”