'That shall be exactly as I choose,' Sagan swore with an oath. 'By the good God we can't afford scruples to-night!'
After a short interval he went on.
'Once we have Gustave's word, we are safe. He is too proud to own that he gave it unwillingly. Besides, so long as we win what matter the means we use? Is your conscience so ticklish, Baron?'
'Politics have their exigencies and are inevitably rigorous, my lord,' answered Elmur slowly. 'To be successful means absolution. In the political courts where our actions will be judged they make no provision for failure. Success is recognised and mercifully considered, while failure, my lord, not being in any sense public, falls to the level of ordinary crime, and is judged by the standard applied to ordinary crime. Thus you will see that I risk as much in my place as you risk in yours.' Perhaps this was as near an approach to a threat as had ever been uttered in the ears of the fierce old Count. With a violent movement, he stepped forward.
'There is no hindrance in our path that cannot be cut through with a sword, and, by my soul, if we find one I will cut it!' Then, looking round, he gave the word to advance, and entered the darkness of the corridor.
A turn brought them in sight of Unziar's tall figure, standing sword in hand on the lowest step of the flight that led up to the embrasure covering the door leading to the royal apartments.
Count Simon pushed Elmur ahead of him while he fell back to whisper a few words to the man immediately behind; then he took precedence once more.
'I request an audience of His Highness, Lieutenant Unziar,' he said.
'Certainly, my lord, if you will give me the password of the night,' replied Unziar.
Sagan's answer was the countersign he had given to his own following in the Castle.