. Do you imagine that I travel for pleasure at my
age, Mr. John Armitage?"

Count von Stroebel's bluster was merely a cloak to hide his confusion--a
cloak, it may be said, to which he did not often resort; but in this case
he watched Armitage warily. He clearly expected some outburst of
indignation from the young man, and he was unfeignedly relieved when
Armitage, after opening and closing his eyes quickly, reached for a fresh
cigarette and lighted it with the deft ease of habit.

"The packet has been stolen," he observed calmly; "whom do you suspect of
taking it?"

The old man leaned upon the table heavily.

"That amiable Francis--"

"The suggestion is not dismaying. Francis would not know an opportunity
if it offered."

"But his mother--she is the devil!" blurted the old man.

"Pray drop that," said Armitage in a tone that caused the old man to look
at him with a new scrutiny. "I want the paper back for the very reason
that it contains that awful indictment of her. I have been uncomfortable
ever since I gave it to you; and I came to ask you for it that I might
keep it safe in my own hands. But the document is lost,--am I to
understand that Francis has it?"

"Not yet! But Rambaud has it, and Rambaud and Francis are as thick as
thieves."

"I don't know Rambaud. The name is unfamiliar."

"He has a dozen names--one for every capital. He even operates in
Washington, I have heard. He's a blackmailer, who aims high--a broker in
secrets, a scandal-peddler. He's a bad lot, I tell you. I've had my best
men after him, and they've just been here to report another failure. If
you have nothing better to do--" began the old man.

"Yes; that packet must be recovered," answered Armitage. "If your agents
have failed at the job it may be worth my while to look for it."

His quiet acceptance of the situation irritated the minister.

"You entertain me, John Armitage! You speak of that packet as though it
were a pound of tea. Francis and his friends, Winkelried and Rambaud, are
not chasers of fireflies, I would have you know. If the Archduke and his
son are dead, then a few more deaths and Francis would rule the Empire."

John Armitage and Count von Stroebel stared at each other in silence.

"Events! Events!" muttered the old man presently, and he rested one of
his hands upon the despatch box, as though it were a symbol of authority
and power.

"Events!" the young man murmured.

"Events!" repeated Count von Stroebel wi