“Did you go to Vienna?” asked the King.
“I was sent to Vienna the instant it became known that the Crown Princess—I mean the lady—had left the palace. I discovered that she had driven to her father’s palace, but finding him absent had gone to Wartenstein. I followed her there, but she had left again before I arrived, and I entirely lost track of her. Probably she went to Paris, but of that I am not sure. I went to Rome, and for a fortnight kept observation upon the Count, but he wrote no letters to her, which made me suspect that she was hiding somewhere in Rome.”
“You reported that she was actually in Rome. Hinckeldeym told me that.”
The Minister’s grey brows were knit, but only for a second.
“I did not report that she was actually there, sire. I only reported my suspicion.”
“A suspicion which was turned into an actual fact before it reached my ears—eh?” he said in a hard voice. “Go on.”
Hinckeldeym now regretted that he had so readily brought his spies face to face with the King.
“After losing touch with the lady for several weeks, it was discovered that she was staying under an assumed name at the Savoy Hotel, in London. I travelled from Rome to London post-haste, and took a room at the hotel, finding that she had engaged a young Englishwoman named Redmayne as maid, and that she was in the habit of meeting in secret a certain Englishman named Bourne, who seemed to be leading a curiously secluded life. I reported this to the Minister Hinckeldeym, who at once sent me as assistant Rose Reinherz, now before your Majesty. Together we have left no stone unturned to fully investigate the situation, and—well, we have discovered many things.”
“And what are they? Explain.”
“We have ascertained that Count Leitolf still writes to the lady, sending her letters to the same address in Brussels as previously. A copy of one letter, which we intercepted, I placed in the Minister’s hands. It is couched in terms that leave no doubt that this man loves her, and that she reciprocates his affection.”