After a few seconds Von Orsova turned again, facing the man and throwing out his hand in desperation.
“Is there——” he spoke louder, and by pushing the window a little way open I could hear him plainly say now—“is there no other way?”
The reply came coldly and uncompromisingly. “None.”
“It is devilish, it is sheer murder,” Von Orsova exclaimed bitterly; “and you, Count, you lend yourself to it.”
“Most regretfully. But the State is before everything.”
“The Chancellor, you mean.”
“Pardon me, the State. Time is short, Herr Rittmeister. It would be a pity if I should be forced to pull the trigger.”
“Ah!” Von Orsova gave a great sigh. “Let me take the alternative.”
He turned to the console table and took up from it a small object which I could not distinguish. As he did so the other moved with him the corresponding distance, keeping the same space between them, and ever covering him with the pistol. Then they returned to their former positions. Von Orsova seemed to be manipulating the thing he held in his hand. “My offence does not merit this punishment,” he said, almost coolly, so coolly that I began to wonder what the punishment was.
“The Chancellor judges otherwise,” the Count returned. “You played a dangerous game, Herr Rittmeister, and must have known the risk you ran. But my orders are not to talk but to act; you understand?”