“Won’t you please come in?” said Armitage, smiling upon them, and when they were seated he took his stand by the fireplace, hesitated a moment, as though weighing his words, and began:
“Baron von Marhof, the events that have led to this meeting have been somewhat more than unusual—they are unique. And complications have arisen which require prompt and wise action. For this reason I am glad that we shall have the benefit of Judge Claiborne’s advice.”
“Judge Claiborne is the counsel of our embassy,” said the Ambassador. His gaze was fixed intently on Armitage’s face, and he hitched himself forward in his chair impatiently, grasping his crop nervously across his knees.
“You were anxious to find me, Baron, and I may have seemed hard to catch, but I believe we have been working at cross-purposes to serve the same interests.”
The Baron nodded.
“Yes, I dare say,” he remarked dryly.
“And some other gentlemen, of not quite your own standing, have at the same time been seeking me. It will give me great pleasure to present one of them—one, I believe, will be enough. Mr. Claiborne, will you kindly allow Monsieur Jules Chauvenet to stand in the door for a moment? I want to ask him a question.”
Shirley, sitting farthest from Armitage, folded her hands upon the long table and looked toward the door into which her brother vanished. Then Jules Chauvenet stood before them all, and as his eyes met hers for a second the color rose to his face, and he broke out angrily:
“This is infamous! This is an outrage! Baron von Marhof, as an Austrian subject, I appeal to you for protection from this man!”
“Monsieur, you shall have all the protection Baron von Marhof cares to give you; but first I wish to ask you a question—just one. You followed me to America with the fixed purpose of killing me. You sent a Servian assassin after me—a fellow with a reputation for doing dirty work—and he tried to stick a knife into me on the deck of the King Edward. I shall not recite my subsequent experiences with him or with you and Monsieur Durand. You announced at Captain Claiborne’s table at the Army and Navy Club in Washington that I was an impostor, and all the time, Monsieur, you have really believed me to be some one—some one in particular.”