"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!" repeated Count von Stroebel without humor. "A couple of deaths and there you see him, on the ground and quite ready. Karl was a genius, therefore he could not be king. He threw away about five hundred years of work that had been done for him by other people--and he cajoled you into sharing his exile. You threw away your life for him! Bah! But you seem sane enough!"
The prime minister concluded with his rough burr; and Armitage laughed outright.
"Why the devil don't you go to Vienna and set yourself up like a gentleman?" demanded the premier.
"Like a gentleman?" repeated Armitage. "It is too late. I should die in Vienna in a week. Moreover, I _am_ dead, and it is well, when one has attained that beatific advantage, to stay dead."