“Proof absolute, to my mind. Documentary evidence.” He took out a gold-bound letter-case emblazoned with an heraldic device. “A tangible clue which I have felt it my duty to hand to your Excellency,” he said, as with deliberation he opened the case, took out a paper and carefully unfolded it. “You know Prince Roel’s handwriting?”
“Personally, no. But that is easily proved.”
“I knew it well,” Zarka returned. “And there without the suspicion of a doubt is a specimen of it.”
He rose as he spoke and handed the paper to Gersdorff. It contained only a few words, and the Minister read them, half aloud.
“‘I send you herewith two bunches of roses, white and red. The white signify love and life: the red hate and death. Those which you will wear to-night must decide my fate. R.’”
Gersdorff turned the paper, and finding the other side blank, turned it back slowly and read the words over again. Then he laid the paper down on the desk before him, and looked up inquiringly at Zarka.
“The paper tells its own story, does it not?” the Count said in reply to the look.
“To a certain point, yes. May I ask how you came by it?”
“From the Prince’s servant who found it in the pocket of his master’s smoking-jacket,” Zarka answered readily.
“And he brought it to you?”