“I have no desire to know how its discovery affected you mentally,” he interrupted, with impatient sarcasm. “I asked where you found it,” he observed coldly.
“I found it in my own house,” I answered.
“Then you mean to tell me that it has been in your possession the whole time. The thing’s impossible,” he cried angrily. “Remember the dummy palmed off upon me, and the fact that an exact copy was transmitted to St Petersburg.”
“No. It has not been in my possession,” I answered, leaning against my writing-chair for support. “I found it among my wife’s letters.”
“Your wife!” he gasped, agitated. He had turned ghastly pale at mention of her name, and, trembling with agitation, swayed forward.
A moment later, however, he recovered his self-possession, clutched at the corner of his table, and regarding me sharply, asked, “What do you suspect?”
“I scarce know what to suspect,” I answered gravely, striving to remain calm, but remembering at that instant the curious effect produced upon the Foreign Minister when he had first seen Ella dancing at the Embassy ball. My declaration that I had found this official bond of nations in her possession had produced a similar disquieting result which puzzled me.
“But surely she can have had no hand in the affair,” he cried. “She certainly did not strike me as an adventuress, or an agent of the Tzar’s secret service.”
“It is a problem that I cannot solve,” I exclaimed slowly, watching the strange, haggard look upon his usually imperturbable features. “After leaving you this evening I went home only to find a letter of farewell from her, and—”
“She has fled, then!” he exclaimed, with quick suspicion.