"No," he said. "To do so would be to destroy all the possibilities of the future for our cause. You will see. It is equally simple. Were I to abandon my work for Germany in the manner you suggest, they would know that I had betrayed them—and their secrets. All we have gained by the knowledge of their secrets would be lost. Then—though it matters nothing to me, for I do not value it beyond the help I can give to humanity—my life would be destroyed as sure as day follows night. No. I go back to my shops, and to my work. I will meet every emergency as it arises. Should I fall to this man Von Salzinger I can always beat the authorities, and—make my escape."
"You are sure?"
"Ach, yes."
"Then prepare from this moment for that escape. You will have to make it. Of that I am equally—sure."
Ruxton's eyes were smiling, but without lightness. And the two men smiled into each other's eyes for some silent moments.
The Prince was the first to break the spell. It was with a glance up at the skylight overhead.
"See," he cried, not without satisfaction. "There comes the daylight. We are on the high seas. All danger is past."
"Immediate danger," corrected Ruxton.
"Ach, so. Yes, 'immediate.'"
The old man turned to the two rolls of paper on the table beside him. He picked them up and fondled them tenderly with his long fingers. They were to him something very precious, and—he was about to part from them.