Rollmar’s smile deepened with a grim intent. “Ah, that is where the romance appears, romance not provided for in my scheme. I scarcely blame you, Count, that you have not yet threaded the maze. It has a deeper winding yet. What if the Princess should be ignorant of the fact that her lover is Prince Ludwig?”
“You are surely pleased to joke, Baron?”
“So far as my knowledge goes,” Rollmar maintained, “she does not know that he is more than Lieutenant von Bertheim.”
“Or perhaps she would not have fallen in love with him?”
“A shrewd deduction, Count. When one wishes a woman to go forward it is not a bad plan to draw her back. Now, you see the pretty affair into which chance has thrust you.”
Irromar laughed. “My house has indeed been honoured in receiving three such illustrious guests. The Princess of Waldavia, the renowned Chancellor von Rollmar and—I hardly know how to describe my third guest—a sovereign prince and yet no sovereign.”
His glance at Rollmar was suggestive of a question. The old man drew back the corners of his mouth in a significant smile.
“No sovereign, certainly, at present,” he responded.
The other was not slow at perceiving the hint.
“Have I, then, done you, after all, a service, Baron? Does that alter your plans? Or is my question indiscreet?”