so."

He drew closer to the table, and his keen old eyes snapped with the
intentness of his thought. The hands he clasped on the table were those
of age, and it was pathetically evident that he folded them to hide their
slight palsy.

"I hope you are quite well," said Armitage kindly.

"I am not. I am anything but well. I am an old man, and I have had no
rest for twenty years."

"It is the penalty of greatness. It is Austria's good fortune that you
have devoted yourself to the affairs of government. I have read--only
to-day, in the _Contemporary Review_--an admirable tribute to your
sagacity in handling the Servian affair. Your work was masterly. I
followed it from the beginning with deepest interest."

The old gentleman bowed half-unconsciously, for his thoughts were far
away, as the vague stare in his small, shrewd eyes indicated.

"But you are here for rest--one comes to Geneva at this season for
nothing else."

"What brings you here?" asked the old man with sudden energy. "If the
papers you gave me in Paris are forgeries and you are waiting--"

"Yes; assuming that, what should I be waiting for?"

"If you are waiting for events--for events! If you expect something to