Judge Claiborne laughed.
“I don’t like the combination of terms. If treason and rebellion are synonyms of democracy, we Americans are in danger.”
“No; you are a miracle—that is the only explanation,” replied Marhof.
“But a man like Karl—what if he were to reappear in the world! A little democracy might solve your problem.”
“No, thank God! he is out of the way. He was sane enough to take himself off and die.”
“But his ghost walks. Not a year ago we heard of him; and he had a son who chose his father’s exile. What if Charles Louis, who is without heirs, should die and Karl or his son—”
“In the providence of God they are dead. Impostors gain a little brief notoriety by pretending to be the lost Karl or his son Frederick Augustus; but Von Stroebel satisfied himself that Karl was dead. I am quite sure of it. You know dear Stroebel had a genius for gaining information.”
“I have heard as much,” and Shirley and the Baron smiled at Judge Claiborne’s tone.
The storm was diminishing and Shirley grew more tranquil. Soon the Ambassador would leave and she would send Armitage away; but the mention of Stroebel’s name rang oddly in her ears, and the curious way in which Armitage and Chauvenet had come into her life awoke new and anxious questions.
“Count von Stroebel was not a democrat, at any rate,” she said. “He believed in the divine right and all that.”