'Discourteously treated? Isolde rudely treated? By whom?'
'Forgive me once more, my lord; but, in the first place, by yourself.'
Sagan laughed aloud; his ill-temper vanishing before the humour of the notion that anyone could take exception to a man's rudeness towards his own wife.
'Pooh! the girl is a bigger idiot than I thought her. Let us hope she'll never meet with worse at the hands of her own husband.'
'I join in the hope, my lord, since I am to be that most fortunate man!' It was not the most felicitous moment, but Elmur was aware that in no other way could he assure Valerie's safety against the treachery of his colleague.
Sagan fell back a step.
'So—the wind blows from that quarter? Take heed, Baron, Selpdorf is a slippery fish.'
'But by this arrangement we land him finally.'
'It may be so.' Sagan tugged broodingly at his beard, after a pause adding, 'Well, well, the girl is safe enough for me, if you can answer for her. Come back and sit down. We must act while Gustave is here. Once we secure the Guard, we can force him to do—as we please. First a compromise, then abdication, then—' he brought his hand down heavily upon the table and sat staring before him at a vision of a dream fulfilled—a vision of Duke Simon of Maäsau.
Elmur's lip curled as he watched the man, who, for the time being, was oblivious of all but the realisation of his own ambition. Duke Simon! a name, but never a living power—only a German puppet, pulled hither and thither at will by the controlling hand.