"Monsieur O'Ryan," he said solemnly, "you may not know it but I am a very important personage—person, I mean—that is," he explained hastily, "I am important in a business sense. And I have many envious business rivals who would not hesitate to follow me secretly from Berne and attempt to possess themselves of any—papers I might carry—in hopes of obtaining business secrets."
I said nothing. He stood on one leg, rubbing one shin with his large, fat toes, and his little mean eyes roaming everywhere.
"You should have brought a servant or two," I suggested.
"No, no, not this time," he said hurriedly. "No, this is just an—an informal little p-pleasure trip with friends—the Xenoses—quite—er—al fresco—sans façon, you see. No, I didn't want servants about." He shot a cunning glance at me and checked himself.
So I shrugged, showed him how to double-lock all his doors, bade him good night, and went back to my own room, trying the corridor lights on my way. None of them worked.
"There's no fuse blown out," thought I to myself, staring at my own bedroom light which burned brightly and which was controlled by the same switch.
Then, locking my door, I took out of my pocket the small bright object which I had picked up in Tzar Ferdinand's dressing-room.
It was a silver filigree button from the peasant costume of Thusis.
Of course she had probably lost it sometime during the day when airing the suite. Untidy little Thusis!
I dropped onto my bed still holding the silver button in my closed hand. Presently I touched it, discreetly, with my lips. And fell asleep after a while—to dream that the Bulgarian and the Hohenzollern had cut off my hands at the wrists and were nailing them to my front door, as happened, I believe, to Major Panitza.