"For the present that is all."
The man saluted and retired.
"Is that man a German, or a——?" Ruxton began as the man disappeared.
"He is a Pole." Then the Prince clasped his fingers and bent them back, cracking the joints. It was an expression of intense excitement. He laughed. "He hates Prussians, and Von Salzinger is a Prussian."
"The matter is going to be serious?" Ruxton's eyes searched the smiling face of the Prince.
"I cannot tell—yet. Von Salzinger has given an order that is about to be disobeyed. Von Salzinger is a powerful force in Borga. Even I have no right to disobey the military governor's regulations here, nor to defy openly his orders. Von Salzinger may do anything. Remember, he is a Prussian. One thing is certain, he does not get you before his inquisitors. No, I cannot tell what he will do. Ah, here comes our visitor. Give me the cylinders."
The Prince possessed himself of the cylinders and was closely contemplating them when the youthful Prussian officer appeared in the doorway. He was so intent upon his study of them, tenderly handling their shining cases with his long fingers, that he did not appear to observe the officer's entrance, and, in gently modulated voice, continued to address his pretended nephew.
"You have, my dear Leder, committed the great fault which belongs to your age. Practice and Principle must ever go hand in hand. I do not know yet, of course, but I fear you have let Principle get his nose in front of Practice. It may mean much serious delay. We will take these, and have them more fully tested, and then——"
He broke off and looked up as an impatient clearing of the throat announced the presence of the officer. In a moment the cylinders were deposited on the table, and the big eyes were beaming simple kindliness upon the visitor.
"You have an order from the Captain-General, is it not so?" he enquired blandly.