Falconer, though young, was a man of quick initiative. He was in a cleft stick and surrounded by unscrupulous enemies. Therefore he had set his brains to outwit them.
The final meeting of the plotters, before the Minister was to be assassinated by a bomb, was fixed for nine o’clock that night. At six o’clock he watched for madame, who was, he knew, going to Lucerne to be present. She came down, smartly dressed, and as she went out, he hastened and overtook her.
“Madame Pavlovitch,” he whispered, “I want a word with you—a serious word.”
She stopped suddenly, and then they strolled across the gravelled drive.
“I know you are going to Lucerne. But I warn you not to go!”
“Why not?” she asked, surprised.
“Because if you do you will be arrested for conspiracy,” he replied firmly. “Further, you are only being made a tool of by a band of anarchists who are using your money for their own personal ends.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded resentfully. “Have you betrayed us?”
“I have betrayed the men who have betrayed you,” was his answer. “Let us walk along, and I’ll tell you the truth,” he added.
Utterly amazed at the risk which the young Englishman had taken, she strolled at his side and listened eagerly.