“And his death?” the Archduke asked.
Courtney watched another smoke ring and made no reply.
“Come,” insisted Armand; “answer.”
The other shook his head.
“I stop with the lie,” he said. “Indeed, I can’t get beyond it. The valet would have but one reason for stealing the Book—to sell it to—Some-one, who would have every reason to conceal or even to destroy it. Every logical inference points to this Some-one; and yet, for once, logic seems to be at fault.”
“You mean the Duke of Lotzen?” said the Princess.
Courtney smiled, but made no answer.
“Your pardon,” she said, “but at least you can tell us why the logic is at fault.”
“Because,” said he, “the actual facts are otherwise. As Armand knows, I like to play with mystery, and when I may help a friend I like it all the more. The logical solution of the matter, in view of the decree, is a knowing valet, and a ready buyer; yet the latter was not in Dornlitz, when the Book was stolen, nor has my most careful investigation disclosed any communication, by Adolph, with him or his friends. On the contrary, the evidence is absolutely conclusive against it; and hence acquits the Some-one of having had any hand in the theft.”
“You knew, then, of Adolph’s death?” Armand asked.