Herr Murenberg bowed and smiled again. “I hope, Altesse, you will be kind enough to forget the little restaurant where you so often gave me your patronage in the old days, many things are changed since then, although I remember your kindness with much gratitude.”
“That would be impossible, my dear fellow; many of my most cherished memories have an association with the dear old Baumgarten which you used to run so well. Nevertheless I am delighted to think that the upheaval of the War has brought good fortune to one of my friends at least. What splendid position has Fate decreed for you?”
“I am deputy chief of the police, Altesse; that I knew many languages has stood me in good stead.”
“Dear me,” the Duke made a grimace. “I — er — trust that this is not an official visit?”
“I fear, yes, Altesse,” he bowed again. “It is a serious matter that I come upon.”
“Sit down, my friend. Let us hear how I have broken the laws of your delightful city.”
The Chief of Police sat gingerly on the extreme edge of an arm-chair. “Unfortunately, Altesse, it is not here that you have offended — if that were so...” he spread out his hands, “it would be my pleasure to put the matter right; it seems that you have come from Russia?”
De Richleau’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he admitted, “that is so.”
Murenberg was obviously troubled. “Altesse, in the old days you were a gentleman who liked his amusements; the cabmen of Vienna, they knew you well — and if you smashed up their cabs with reckless driving after a party — what matter. If you broke a few heads even — you paid handsomely in the morning, and all was well, but now it seems that you have taken to killing men for your amusement — Bolsheviks, it is true, but even so it is a serious thing.”
“Hardly for amusement, my dear Fritz,” the Duke smiled, grimly. “It happened that I was called on to defend myself. I did so to the best of my ability.”