CHAPTER XIX
THE PLOT HAS FAILED
The Russian appeared to be a young man, some thirty years of age perhaps. His dress was after the French fashion. He wore a shirt with a soft embroidered front and a tousled black cravat which added a shade of pallor to his unusually pale face. When he spoke in the German tongue, his voice had a pleasant musical ring, even while it narrated the story of his friend's misfortune.
"We have failed, mein Heir," he said, "I come to you with grievous news. We have failed and there is not an hour to lose."
Gessner heard him with that self-mastery to which his whole life had trained him. Betraying no sign of emotion whatever, he pulled a chair toward the light and invited the stranger to take it.
"This is my young kinsman," he said, introducing Alban who still lingered in the garden; "you have heard of him, Count." And then to Alban, "Let me present you to my very old friend, Count Zamoyaki. He is a cavalry soldier, Alban, and there is no finer rider in Europe."
Alban took the outstretched hand and, having exchanged a word with the stranger, would have left the place instantly. This, however, Count Zamoyski himself forbade. Speaking rapidly to Gessner in the German tongue, he turned to the lad presently and asked him to remain.
"Young heads are wise heads sometimes," he said in excellent English, "you may be able to help us, Mr. Kennedy. Please wait until we have discussed the matter a little more fully."
To this the banker assented by a single inclination of his head.