He found he had not been mistaken in his forecast of his guest’s sociable qualities. Indeed during the meal each of its partakers considerably astonished the other, not merely by the acute knowledge of the world which he displayed but more particularly by his intimate acquaintance with affairs, both political and social, such as was for the most part denied to outsiders.
“Who,” the Count’s busy brain puzzled, “can this man be, who has such a confident knowledge of the inner circle of politics? Hardly the enterprising merchant he would have me believe. It is just possible; since your eminent trader makes it his business to be au courant with every move in the political world that vigilance or money can give him wind of. And yet——?” The Count doubted and guessed, turned the conversation into probing channels, only to grow all the more interested and doubtful. By degrees the conviction increased that this pretended wealthy merchant was an emissary whose real errand was concerned with the recovery of his prisoners. He calculated in his mind the time it would have taken for their friends to have received information of their whereabouts and for his guest to have arrived on the scene. It fitted exactly. He then concluded that the old man sitting by the fire and chatting with such confident ease was there for a purpose.
What? That would surely appear if he had the patience to wait for it. Was this an emissary of Rollmar’s? The Captain, the Chancellor’s son, had said his captives were ladies of rank. Had Rollmar sent——? Was this Rollmar himself, this old, sharp-eyed man who carried with him such an atmosphere of innate power? Was it possible?
For a moment the truth flashed across his mind, only to be dismissed as preposterous. Nevertheless it was an indication of the Count’s acuteness of perception. And his reckoning up of his guest showed that he was, as he was wont to declare himself, no fool.
Rollmar?
The suspicion recurred persistently, and its grounds increased in colour and plausibility. He was awaiting developments now in a mood of intense and provocative curiosity. If this man had come with a purpose, surely he must declare it without much more delay. Except he came to spy and then—— The suave face which masked the busy brain darkened for an instant at the idea. As yet his thoughts had not reached the point of considering what action he would take should this in truth turn out to be the wily Chancellor. It would be time enough to determine that when this strange situation—too strange for belief—presented itself. Meanwhile, he watched his guest like a tiger, smooth and treacherous, with a readiness to spring hidden under an attitude of sleek repose.
But he had not to wait long.
“You have entertained me, a chance guest, possibly a not too welcome intruder, in princely fashion, Count!” the old man said, abruptly breaking off their subject of conversation, which happened to be Prince Ferdinand’s coup-d’etat. “In return for your unlooked-for hospitality I feel I must make an unworthy return in a confession and a piece of information which may possibly astonish you.”
He spoke quietly, with an easy unconcern, as though confident of his resources and of the welcome of his communication. But his preamble was enough to confirm the Count’s suspicion. No man but one, he told himself, would have the nerve to be so genuinely at his ease when in the power of another of his character and reputation. Vanity was a strong ingredient in his imperious character; many a strong, masterful man is a baby where his vanity is touched. This one was a ruffian, yet childishly eager to proclaim himself a paragon of sagacity and intellect. The temptation to a brilliant and discomfiting move was too great to be resisted.
“You are going to tell me,” he said quietly, “first that you have introduced yourself under an incognito, and secondly that your real name is——” He paused for an instant as the old man shot at him a sharp glance of curiosity. “Baron von Rollmar, Chancellor of the State of Waldavia.”