Zarka nodded. “No other. You guess his purpose?”
Philippa shook her head. He took a newspaper from his pocket and pointed to a column devoted to Prince Roel’s disappearance. She glanced at a few lines of exaggerated language and then asked: “Need I read all this?”
“Not all,” he answered with a shrug. “But at least a passage here which will explain the object of my visit and my friend’s letter.”
He indicated a paragraph, and she read—
“The theory that the unfortunate Prince’s mysterious disappearance and much-to-be-feared death is attributable to an unhappy love affair, in which he was made the victim of a lady’s caprice, still holds ground, and it is terrible to think of the dire results to which a woman’s thoughtlessness, or worse, may lead. It is reported, although we do not vouch for the truth of the news, that a near kinsman and close friend of Prince Roel has left Markaynar with the object of seeking out and taking vengeance on those who may have been responsible for his death.”
Zarka watched her as she read, and as she came to the end of the paragraph their eyes met. “You understand now?” he said.
“This is the man?”
“None other. You may be certain of that.”
She hardly needed his assurance, since D’Alquen’s manner to her after the boar was killed was stronger evidence than Zarka’s word. She recalled his strange words and felt sure.
“But how comes he here?” she asked.