"It isn't possible!" gasped Durand.

"It is quite possible," replied Chauvenet. "The emblem is unmistakable.

Good G.o.d, look!"

The sweat had broken out on Chauvenet's face and he leaped to the chair where his coat hung, and caught up the garment with shaking hands. The silk lining fluttered loose where Armitage had roughly torn out the envelope.

"Who is he? Who is he?" whispered Durand, very white of face.

"It may be--it must be some one deeply concerned."

Chauvenet paused, drawing his hand across his forehead slowly; then the color leaped back into his face, and he caught Durand's arm so tight that the man flinched.

"There has been a man following me about; I thought he was interested in the Claibornes. He's here--I saw him at the Monte Rosa to-night. G.o.d!"

He dropped his hand from Durand's arm and struck the table fiercely with his clenched hand.

"John Armitage--John Armitage! I heard his name in Florence."

His eyes were snapping with excitement, and amazement grew in his face.

"Who is John Armitage?" demanded Durand sharply; but Chauvenet stared at him in stupefaction for a tense moment, then muttered to himself:

"Is it possible? Is it possible?" and his voice was hoa.r.s.e and his hand trembled as he picked up the cigarette case.

"My dear Jules, you act as though you had seen a ghost. Who the devil is Armitage?"

Chauvenet glanced about the room cautiously, then bent forward and whispered very low, close to Durand's ear:

"Suppose he were the son of the crazy Karl! Suppose he were Frederick Augustus!"

"Bah! It is impossible! What is your man Armitage like?" asked Durand irritably.

"He is the right age. He is a big fellow and has quite an air. He seems to be without occupation."

"Clearly so," remarked Durand ironically. "But he has evidently been watching us. Quite possibly the lamented Stroebel employed him. He may have seen Stroebel here--"

Chauvenet again struck the table smartly.

"Of course he would see Stroebel! Stroebel was the Archduke's friend; Stroebel and this fellow between them--"

"Stroebel is dead. The Archduke is dead; there can be no manner of doubt of that," said Durand; but doubt was in his tone and in his eyes.

"Nothing is certain; it would be like Karl to turn up again with a son to back his claims. They may both be living. This Armitage is not the ordinary pig of a secret agent. We must find him."

"And quickly. There must be--"

"--another death added to our little list before we are quite masters of the situation in Vienna."

They gave Zmai orders to remain on guard at the house and went hurriedly out together.

CHAPTER VI

TOWARD THE WESTERN STARS

Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.

--_Lay of the Last Minstrel_.

Geneva is a good point from which to plan flight to any part of the world, for there at the top of Europe the whole continental railway system is easily within your grasp, and you may make your choice of sailing ports. It is, to be sure, rather out of your way to seek a ship at Liverpool unless you expect to gain some particular advantage in doing so. Mr. John Armitage hurried thither in the most breathless haste to catch the _King Edward_, whereas he might have taken the _Touraine_ at Cherbourg and saved himself a mad scamper; but his satisfaction in finding himself aboard the _King Edward_ was supreme. He was and is, it may be said, a man who salutes the pa.s.sing days right amiably, no matter how somber their colors.

Shirley Claiborne and Captain Richard Claiborne, her brother, were on deck watching the shipping in the Mersey as the big steamer swung into the channel.

"I hope," observed d.i.c.k, "that we have shaken off all your transatlantic suitors. That little Chauvenet died easier than I had expected. He never turned up after we left Florence, but I'm not wholly sure that we shan't find him at the dock in New York. And that mysterious Armitage, who spent so much railway fare following us about, and who almost bought you a watch in Geneva, really disappoints me. His persistence had actually compelled my admiration. For a gla.s.s-blower he was fairly decent, though, and better than a lot of these little toy men with imitation t.i.tles."

"Is that an American cruiser? I really believe it is the _Tec.u.mseh_. What on earth were you talking about, d.i.c.k?"

Shirley fluttered her handkerchief in the direction of the American flag displayed by the cruiser, and d.i.c.k lifted his cap.

"I was bidding farewell to your foreign suitors, Shirley, and congratulating myself that as soon as _pere et mere_ get their sea legs they will resume charge of you, and let me look up two or three very presentable specimens of your s.e.x I saw come on board. Your affairs have annoyed me greatly and I shall be glad to be free of the responsibility."

"Thank you, Captain."

"And if there are any t.i.tled blackguards on board--"

"You will do dreadfully wicked things to them, won't you, little brother?"

"Humph! Thank G.o.d, I'm an American!"

"That's a worthy sentiment, Richard."

"I'd like to give out, as our newspapers say, a signed statement throwing a challenge to all Europe. I wish we'd get into a real war once so we could knock the conceit out of one of their so-called first-cla.s.s powers.

I'd like to lead a regiment right through the most sacred precincts of London; or take an early morning gallop through Berlin to wake up the Dutch. All this talk about hands across the sea and such rot makes me sick. The English are the most benighted and the most conceited and condescending race on earth; the Germans and Austrians are stale beer-vats, and the Italians and French are mere decadents and don't count."

"Yes, dearest," mocked Shirley. "Oh, my large brother, I have a confession to make. Please don't indulge in great oaths or stamp a hole in this st.u.r.dy deck, but there are flowers in my state-room--"

"Probably from the Liverpool consul--he's been pestering father to help him get a transfer to a less gloomy hole."

"Then I shall intercede myself with the President when I get home.

They're orchids--from London--but--with Mr. Armitage's card. Wouldn't that excite you?"

"It makes me sick!" and d.i.c.k hung heavily on the rail and glared at a pa.s.sing tug.

"They are beautiful orchids. I don't remember when orchids have happened to me before, Richard--in such quant.i.ties. Now, you really didn't disapprove of him so much, did you? This is probably good-by forever, but he wasn't so bad; and he may be an American, after all."