"Your political acumen is not at fault."
"No, my lord, but yours is. The lady at present in Australia, or wherever she may be, is not the Princess, but a substitute. It needs very powerful friends to carry through such a deception as that."
Lord Cloverton turned sharply toward him, and, as Francois had done,
De Froilette answered the unasked question.
"Yes, my lord; Princess Maritza is in Sturatzberg."
"Hiding where?"
"That I do not know. You will doubtless take means to find out. Command me if I can help you in any way."
"I thank you for the information. If you are not mistaken, the wayward child has been very ill advised. I gather, monsieur, that your business affairs would suffer were such a thing as a rising in the Princess Maritza's favor to take place?"
"Have I not said that there is a selfish vein in all of us?"
Lord Cloverton smiled, and together they crossed the vestibule.
Their short colloquy had not been overheard, nor had their presence been particularly noticed there except by one person—the Countess Mavrodin. She had reached the head of the stairs as De Froilette had leaned confidentially forward toward the Ambassador, and she hastily greeted a friend, keeping her standing at the top of the stairs while they talked. She had good reason to be curious regarding such a confidence between two such men, and while she laughed and talked she watched them. She did not move until they had crossed the vestibule, and when they separated she followed Lord Cloverton.