“The man is lying,” Gersdorff said to himself. Then aloud, “Your observation, Count, surely did not stop short of the lady’s identity?”
“I must repeat I have no positive information on that point,” Zarka maintained with a smile that rather gave the lie to his words. “The Prince was most reserved and secretive in the matter, and I could not pretend to do more than hazard the merest guess as to the lady.”
Gersdorff bowed as forbearing to press the question. “Possibly the point is not essential,” he said. “I will not interrupt you.”
“That, however, the poor Prince was greatly smitten,” Zarka continued with a fluency which seemed to his hearer the result of preparation, “was clear to me. From a young man of high spirits he became gloomy, melancholy, with intervals of unnatural excitement. The usual signs of a certain state of mind.”
Gersdorff nodded him on in more curiosity than the other suspected.
Zarka paused for a moment before proceeding, as, having completed the preamble, he came to the real point of his communication.
“In my mind there is no doubt,” he said slowly, giving weight to his words, “that the Prince’s disappearance is directly due to the failure of his love affair.”
The Minister’s face assumed a look of bland inquiry.
“Indeed? That is a strong assertion, Count. You have proof?”
Zarka smiled, and his smile strengthened the other’s dislike.