He glanced significantly at Ompertz, who, half reassured, had lowered his point.
Von Bertheim answered the look. “My good friend, Captain von Ompertz, who has just rendered me an important service at some risk to himself.”
“Then,” the newcomer observed dryly, “as we are all friends and it is late, Captain von Ompertz may put his sword to bed.”
“If his sword were afraid of late hours,” the free-lance retorted, as with a laugh he sent the weapon home in its scabbard, “Captain von Ompertz would not have the honour of standing before you at this moment. It is hard to tell friends from foes in this city, and I but waited Lieutenant von Bertheim’s word before disguarding.”
“Now, Anton, your news. You may speak before our friend,” said Ludovic.
“Your uncle has met with an accident, a fall out riding.”
“He is dead? No?”
“When I left he was as far through death’s door as a man can be to have any chance of drawing back.”
“Then there was a chance, Anton?”
He gave a shrug. “He was alive. I did not tarry to hear the result of the putting together of six scientific craniums. It was enough that the patient had a breakage in his; so I came post-haste to tell you.”