“And do you not think that these fiends who murdered my husband richly deserve the fate we have in store for them?” she asked.
Upon that point, however, Falconer refused to express an opinion.
As they entered the lounge of the hotel, he was surprised to see a thin-faced, elderly man seated in a chair pretending to read a paper. Instantly he recognised him as one of the group of plotters he had met in Lucerne. He had already reached the Pilatuskulm, and was undoubtedly there in order to keep observation upon him. Indeed he found that the man, who had given the name of Vulkovitch at the bureau, had engaged the room adjoining his own.
He had hardly entered his room when there was a low tap on the door and Vulkovitch entered, with a word of apology.
“I need not tell you, M’sieur Falconer, why I am here. The object of my visit is to impress upon you the necessity for complete secrecy. It was all the fault of Boris, who, believing you to be one of us, admitted you, but as you have now become associated with us, you must conform to the rules already laid down. If you breathe a single word of what is in progress, then I shall use this!”
And he produced from his inner pocket a large silver cigar-case.
“This is not so harmless as it may appear,” he went on. “It contains an explosive so powerful that if thrown down it would wreck half the hotel.”
“And incidentally blow you to pieces,” remarked Falconer, regarding the case with interest.
“If I have occasion to use it I shall myself take certain precautions. Only you would suffer, m’sieur.”
“Well, I hope it won’t be necessary for you to send me into the next world,” laughed the young man. “But certainly the situation is a decidedly unpleasant one--for me.”
“And equally for me,” the Serbian replied. “I regret that I am selected for this not over-pleasant duty, and I only hope you will thoroughly understand what my friends have decided. So I wish you good-night,” and bowing politely he left the room.
Geoffrey Falconer obtained but little sleep that night. The whole thing seemed like a nightmare--the oath of secrecy which he had taken, madame’s tragic story, and her fierce revenge. It seemed that she was paying all the expenses of that group of wild, political extremists from Belgrade.