“No, my Lord. I entered but a short time since, just before the gates were closed for the night.”
“Ah! that accounts for my hearing no report of your arrival, for it is my wish, when distinguished visitors honour us with their presence, that I may be able to offer them every courtesy.”
Von Brent laughed, this time with a more genuine ring to his mirth.
“Seeing that your previous hospitality included lodging in the city prison, my Lord, as you, a moment ago, reminded me, you can scarcely be surprised that I had no desire to invite a repetition of such courtesy, if you will pardon the frank speaking of a soldier.”
“Most assuredly. And to meet frankness with its like, I may add that the city prison still stands intact. But I must no longer delay an impatient lover, and so, as I began, I give you a very good evening, sir.”
Von Brent returned the salutation, bowing low, and Wilhelm watched him retrace his steps and disappear in the darkness. The Commander, returning his blade to its scabbard, sought Gottlieb at the barracks.
“Do you remember von Brent, of Treves’ staff?”
“That hangdog-looking officer? Yes, master. I had the pleasure of knocking him down in the Cathedral before pinioning him.”
“He is in Frankfort to-night, and said he entered by the western gate just before it was closed.”
“Then he is a liar,” commented Gottlieb, with his usual bluntness.