happen!"

Armitage laughed at the old gentleman's earnest manner, asked if he might
smoke, and lighted a cigarette.

"Waiting doesn't suit me. I thought you understood that. I was not born
for the waiting list. You see, I have strong hands--and my wits are--let
us say--average!"

Von Stroebel clasped his own hands together more firmly and bent toward
Armitage searchingly.

"Is it true"--he turned again and glanced about--"is it positively true
that the Archduke Karl is dead?"

"Yes; quite true. There is absolutely no doubt of it," said Armitage,
meeting the old man's eyes steadily.

"The report that he is still living somewhere in North America is
persistent. We hear it frequently in Vienna; I have heard it since you
told me that story and gave me those papers in Paris last year."

"I am aware of that," replied John Armitage; "but I told you the truth.
He died in a Canadian lumber camp. We were in the north hunting--you may
recall that he was fond of that sort of thing."

"Yes, I remember; there was nothing else he did so well," growled Von
Stroebel.

"And the packet I gave you--"