Here the orator's breath quite failed, and he coughed till his hatchet face turned blue. Vinal reflected in silence.
"Wasn't he an Amerikin?" pursued the small man, "and didn't he have an Amerikin passport in his pocket? I expect to go where I please, and keep what company I please,--uh,--uh,--uh. I'm an Amerikin,--uh,--and that's enough; and a considerable wide margin to spare,--uh,--uh,--uh."
"But what evidence is there that the German had any thing to do with the affair?"
"That's the deused part of the business. There ain't no evidence to fix it on him."
"Were the letters he gave your friend sealed?"
"Not a bit of it. They was open, and read jest as fair as need be."
"Probably he was imprudent, and said something which compromised him. Stone walls, you know, have ears in Austria."
"It is very easy for an American to get into trouble with the Austrian government. There is a natural antipathy between them."
"Why, if you or me was to go down to Austria, and happen to rip out what we thought of 'em, where's the guarantee that they wouldn't stick us down in some of their prisons, and nobody be any wiser for it?"
"I've heerd said that such things has happened."
"No doubt of it. About this German,--I should advise your friend to be cautious how he accuses him of any intention of having him arrested. If the letters had been sealed, there might have been some ground for suspicion; but as the case stands, I do not see how there can be any. And it is a little hard upon a man, when he meant to do a kindness, to charge him with playing such a trick as that."
"Well, it may be as you think. It looks like enough, any way."
The small man addressed himself to his breakfast. Vinal sat playing with his spoon, his brain filled with busy and feverish thoughts.
In a few minutes, a messenger from an American banking house came in, looking about the room as if in search of some person. Observing Vinal, whom he had seen before, he asked if he knew where Mr. Morton was.
"Letters there for me?" demanded Vinal, taking several which the messenger held in his hand, and glancing over the directions.
At that instant Vinal discovered the well-remembered handwriting of Edith Leslie. His pale face grew a shade paler.