“And Ghelardi has been in search of the thief. He is no friend of mine,” said the General with an expressive smile.
“Hence you have not mentioned the key—eh?” His Excellency smiled again in the affirmative. “Then, if the key is safe, the plans are, after all, useless?”
“Exactly, Signor Waldron. Indeed I question whether a foreign Power could make out what new construction were intended—and certainly they could not—without the tracings you refer to—discover the strength of the armaments of the forts.”
“Then that is all I require to know at present,” Hubert said, and a few moments later, as Pironti entered, he took his leave.
At noon he was standing in his room when the crooked-backed Peters ushered in Her Royal Highness. She was dressed smartly, but neatly, in deep black, with a large hat which suited her admirably, though her face was white as paper.
“I was unable to go out to Frascati,” she explained, as she put out her gloved hand to him. “So I thought it better to risk being seen and to call on you, Mr Waldron.”
The door was closed and they stood alone.
His eyes were fixed upon her, and for some seconds he did not reply.
“Lola,” he said at last, “I—I really hardly know what to say. The whole affair of last night is too terrible for words.”
“I know, Mr Waldron. Ah! I—I feel that I cannot face you, for what excuse can I make? I have no excuse—none whatever.”