“More than accounts for it,” my friend continued grimly. “Well, when we realized what the scene meant, the spirit of caution took possession of us; we were chance spectators of what was practically an act of high treason.”
“Accessories in effect,” Szalay put in.
“There were two courses open to us,” Von Lindheim went on. “To interrupt the ceremony, or to steal away and keep our own counsel. Our evil genius prompted us all three to choose the latter.”
“The former was too dangerous,” Szalay said. “We knew too much; even in that case we should have been marked men.”
“Anyhow,” the other proceeded, “we crept away from the window and hurried back through the wood to the palace.”
“It was a mistake,” Szalay said. “We should have run the other way.”
“A fatal mistake. For we came plump upon two men hastening towards the chapel. One ran on, the other halted and scrutinized us, then followed his companion. The Jaguar, and his striking paw, Furello.”
“The two I saw,” was my remark.
“Yes. Now you see the man, the fiend, and his methods,” Von Lindheim said. “He did not strike at once, but watched the marriage to an end, that he might strike more surely and quietly. Now we have the whole story.”
“So far. It is not ended,” Szalay said gloomily.