"No," muttered the lackey, "the count isn't at home, and it wasn't necessary to ring so horribly loud to ask the question."
He stepped back and was about to close the door again, but the baron thrust his foot between it and the frame and seized the man's sleeve.
"My good fellow, I must see the count," he said imperiously.
"But when I tell you that the count isn't—"
He stopped suddenly in the middle of his sentence and cast a stolen glance at the florin which the baron had pressed into his hand.
"Announce me to Count von Kotte," said the baron pleasantly. "He will certainly receive me."
"Your name, sir?" asked the lackey respectfully.
"Commissioner Kraus," was the reply. The man withdrew, and, a few minutes after, returned with a smiling face.
"The count is at home and begs the gentleman to come in," he said, throwing the door wide open and standing respectfully beside it.
Commissioner Kraus, smiling, stepped past him into the anteroom. A door on the opposite side opened, and the tall figure of a man attired in the Austrian uniform appeared.