“You come from far?” Zarka asked presently.
“From Sorusk, in the Province of Rapsburg.”
The Count’s eyebrows went up in expressive surprise. “Sorusk! that is indeed far. Ah, you have lost your Prince. It is sad. What may be the opinion in the province as to his disappearance? That he is dead, poor fellow, eh?”
“That may be the idea in the province,” D’Alquen resumed, “but it is not mine.”
“Ah!” Zarka was all polite curiosity. “You think he is alive? How, then, do you account for his disappearance?”
Although the piercing eyes were on him the question was asked in a tone and with an expression of the blandest interest. For all sign of guilty knowledge on his face Zarka might have had no greater concern in the affair than the most casual lounger on the Königstrasse.
“I account for it,” D’Alquen answered in his abrupt fashion, “by an obvious move in the political game played yonder.” He nodded towards the mountains.
Zarka smiled incredulously. “A vague motive, surely,” he objected. “I fancy that society in town could furnish one far more probable.”
D’Alquen turned to him sharply. “And that is——?”
Zarka gave a shrug and smiled meaningly. “A very common and obvious cause for a man’s eccentricity. A lady. It is well known that Prince Roel was smitten by one who, incomprehensibly perhaps, did not return his admiration.”