Rolfe explained, while Sir Charles sat listening open-mouthed.
“Extraordinary!” he ejaculated, when the younger man concluded. “What can be the reason of it. Petrovitch is an old and dear friend of mine. Why, I knew him years ago when I was attaché here. He often wrote to me. The last letter I had was from London about four months ago.”
“And he’s my friend also.”
“Yes; I know,” was the other’s reply. “It was whispered, Rolfe, that you were in love with the pretty Maud—eh?”
“I don’t deny it?”
“Why should you, if you love her.”
“But she’s disappeared—without a word.”
“And you are in search of her? Most natural. Well, I’ll make inquiries and ascertain if she’s been in Belgrade. I don’t believe she has, or we should certainly have seen something of her. My wife is very fond of her, you know.”
“I fear there’s been foul play?” Rolfe remarked.
The Minister shrugged his shoulders.