“Oh,” Gersdorff made a mental note of it. Then he waited, his intuition telling that the Count had something to add.
“The General and Fräulein Carlstein,” Zarka proceeded when he found the other did not seem inclined to question him further, “have left the city, I hear, for Switzerland and Paris. That is all the information I have to give, Excellency. You must take it for what it is worth; but I must say it seems to me significant.”
Gersdorff rose.
“Quite so, Count,” he said curtly, as ending the interview; “we will look into the matter——”
But his visitor did not depart without a flourish. “I trust, Excellency, you will consider that what you have done me the honour to allow me to communicate has been a sufficient excuse for taking up so much of your valuable time.”
“Certainly,” Gersdorff answered a little stiffly; “I am obliged to you for your information; your theory of this unfortunate young fellow’s disappearance may be worth following up. You will leave the paper with me? Good-day.”
The Count could only grin again, bow, and take his leave.
Gersdorff returned to Galabin, who rose and looked inquiringly at his face, which, however, from habitual diplomatic schooling, told nothing.
“A lucky visit for us,” Gersdorff said, resuming his seat by the window. “I fancy it has at least narrowed the field of your proposed search, my young friend. For unless I am greatly mistaken the man who is there,” he nodded down towards the street, “mounting his horse with such swagger knows as much as anybody of Prince Roel’s disappearance.”
“He came to tell you so?”