he turned stormily upon Armitage.

"That packet is lost, I tell you!" he blurted, as though it were
something that he had frequently explained before. "It was stolen from
under my very nose only a month ago! That's what I'm here for--my agents
are after the thief, and I came to Geneva to meet them, to find out why
they have not caught him. Do you imagine that I travel for pleasure at my
age, Mr. John Armitage?"

Count von Stroebel's bluster was merely a cloak to hide his confusion--a
cloak, it may be said, to which he did not often resort; but in this case
he watched Armitage warily. He clearly expected some outburst of
indignation from the young man, and he was unfeignedly relieved when
Armitage, after opening and closing his eyes quickly, reached for a fresh
cigarette and lighted it with the deft ease of habit.

"The packet has been stolen," he observed calmly; "whom do you suspect of
taking it?"

The old man leaned upon the table heavily.

"That amiable Francis--"

"The suggestion is not dismaying. Francis would not know an opportunity
if it offered."

"But his mother--she is the devil!" blurted the old man.

"Pray drop that," said Armitage in a tone that caused the old man to look
at him with a new scrutiny. "I want the paper back for the very reason