“For six months I remained, still leading that roving, adventurous life.  My leg was well again, but my journalistic commission was at an end, and one day I found myself in Odessa, very short of funds.  I recollected the Baron’s invitation to Budapest, therefore I took train there, and found his residence to be one of those great white houses on the Franz Josef Quay.  He received me with marked enthusiasm, and compelled me to be his guest.  During the first week I was there I told him, in confidence, my position, whereupon he offered me a very lucrative post as his secretary, a post which I have retained until this moment.”

“And the girl?” Walter asked, much interested.

“Oh, she finished her education in Dresden and in Paris, and now lives mostly with her aunt in Vienna,” was Hamilton’s response.  “Quite recently she’s become engaged to young Count de Solwegen, the son of one of the wealthiest men in Austria.”

“I thought you’d probably become the happy lover.”

“Lover!” cried his friend.  “How could a poor devil like myself ever aspire to the hand of the daughter of the Baron de Hetzendorf?  The name doesn’t convey much to you, I suppose?”

“No, I don’t take much interest in unknown foreigners, I confess,” replied Walter, with a smile.

“Ah, you’re not a cosmopolitan nor a financier, or you would know the thousand-and-one strings which are pulled by Conrad de Hetzendorf, or the curious stories afloat concerning him.”

“Curious stories!” echoed Murie.  “Tell me some.  I’m always interested in anything mysterious.”

Hamilton was silent for a few moments.

“Well, old chap, to tell you the truth, even though I’ve got such a comfortable and lucrative post, I’m, even after these years, considerably mystified.”

“How?”

“By the real nature of the Baron’s business.”

“Oh, he’s a mysterious person, is he?”

“Very.  Though I’m his confidential secretary, and deal with his affairs in his absence, yet in some matters he is remarkably close, as though he fears me.”

“You live always in Budapest, I suppose?”

“No.  In summer we are at the country house, a big place overlooking the Danube outside Semlin, and commanding a wide view of the great Hungarian plain.”

“The Baron transacts his business there, eh?”

“From there or from Budapest.  His business is solely with an office in the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris, and a registered telegraphic address also in Paris.”

“Well, there’s nothing very mysterious in that, surely.  Some business matters must, of necessity, be conducted with secrecy.”

“I know all that, my dear fellow, but—­” and he hesitated, as though fearing to take his friend into his confidence.

“But what?”

“Well—­but there, no!  You’d laugh at me if I told you the real reason of my uneasiness.”

“I certainly won’t, my dear Hamilton,” Murie assured him.  “We are friends to-day, dear old chap, just as we were at college.  Surely it is not the place of a man to poke fun at his friend?”