"I am ready," Styrum replied, and, with old Franz for a guide, they betook themselves to Werner's apartment.
The Finanzrath, when he stayed at the castle, occupied a spacious room in a retired wing, where, between the windows, stood his writing-table with its many drawers and compartments. This immediately attracted the Geheimrath's attention. Upon it lay an unopened letter, which Steuber at once took possession of and coolly opened. Looking up as he did so, he smiled at the expression of an outraged sense of honour on Styrum's face, and then read the letter aloud. "Make no further attempt to win over your father and brother,--it might be dangerous. Unfortunately, some of our friends have been very imprudent. I have received trustworthy information that many of us are under strict surveillance. The greatest caution is necessary; a new associate could avail us little,--one traitor might ruin us. Your brother's friend, Count Styrum, has already applied for re-admission to the army; if your brother should do likewise, he will rank among our foes, not our friends. Therefore I must entreat you to acquaint neither your father nor your brother with any of our plans. More when we meet; until then be upon your guard!" "And this precious epistle is signed 'A,'" the Geheimrath added. "It tells me nothing new of the Finanzrath or his friends, but it hints strongly that neither the old Freiherr nor his younger son knows anything of the Herr Finanzrath's schemes. Do you still think I did wrong to open the letter, Count?"
Without waiting for a reply the Geheimrath went on to search in the most careful manner every drawer and pigeonhole of Werner's desk, but his trouble was vain. The drawers were all unlocked, but not one piece of written paper was to be found anywhere. "Hm! the Herr Finanzrath has been expecting me," Steuber muttered, impatiently. "There is nothing here, and I have searched everything except the waste-paper basket." Thereupon he proceeded to examine all the papers it contained, worthless scraps, one and all, until nothing remained except some small fragments at the very bottom of the basket. Then, while the Count looked on in impatient wonder, he carefully assorted these, perceiving that they consisted of two kinds of paper, one bluish and stiff, the other creamy and delicate, murmuring, as he did so, "There can hardly be more than two notes here, or the number of scraps would be greater."