"Where is it?" Count Michæl repeated.
"When I saw it was of no value," Trent said, sticking to his chauffeur rôle, "I burned it."
"For the moment we will assume that you speak the truth. Now, how is it you made the mistake of supposing that I had here certain guests of high degree?"
"Just a guess," Trent said calmly, "Wasn't I right? Remember I had to bring them up from Fiume. I saw coronets on dressing cases and from the way Hentzi bowed and scraped I imagined they were at least royalties in disguise."
"You said," Count Michæl insisted, "'Give my love to the prince.' You could only have meant one particular personage. You did not speak in generalities you particularized. You said 'The prince.' I warn you you do not help yourself by denials. I am not a patient man. The world knows that. Here in my castle of Radna I am supreme. I have not chosen my servants idly. They are committed to me and my cause absolutely. Old Ferencz there would die for me or mine. It is the tradition of loyalty born in him. So with the others. You are surrounded here with those who regard you as my enemy. How can I chide them if, knowing their lord is in peril, they seek to remove it?"
"First and second murderers," Trent commented.
"Executioners," the count corrected.
"It makes no difference what you call them," Trent exclaimed.
"I am glad you look at it in that light," Count Michæl said, "It does not make any difference as you will see. I shall convince you of that by relating the sad accident which befell your friend Captain the Honourable Oswald Hardcastle, formerly of the Royal Dragoons."