“It will take me twelve hours to collect my men, and it had best be done at night. To-morrow midnight, if you please?” answered the Baron.
“Excellent,” she said. “My door is always open to you, Baron. As soon as the order is prepared, bring it me to sign.”
“Madam,” he said, “alone of all of us you do not risk your head in this adventure. For that reason, and to prevent all hesitation, I venture to propose the order should be in your hand throughout.”
“You are right,” she replied.
He laid a form before her, and she wrote the order in a clear hand, and re-read it. Suddenly a cruel smile came on her face. “I had forgotten his puppet,” said she. “They will keep each other company.” And she interlined and initialled the condemnation of Dr. Gotthold.
“Your Highness has more memory than your servant,” said the Baron; and then he, in his turn, carefully perused the fateful paper. “Good!” said he.
“You will appear in the drawing-room, Baron?” she asked.
“I thought it better,” said he, “to avoid the possibility of a public affront. Anything that shook my credit might hamper us in the immediate future.”
“You are right,” she said; and she held out her hand as to an old friend and equal.