“You are not dull, Chauvenet; you are only shortsighted.  The same witnesses know that John Armitage was at the Hotel Monte Rosa for twenty-four hours following the Count’s departure.  Meanwhile, where were you, Jules Chauvenet?”

Chauvenet’s hand again went to his face, which whitened, though he sought refuge again in flippant irony.

“To be sure!  Where was I, Monsieur?  Undoubtedly you know all my movements, so that it is unnecessary for me to have any opinions in the matter.”

“Quite so!  Your opinions are not of great value to me, for I employed agents to trace every move you made during the month in which Count von Stroebel was stabbed to death in his railway carriage.  It is so interesting that I have committed the record to memory.  If the story would interest you—­”

The hand that again sought the slight mustache trembled slightly; but Chauvenet smiled.

“You should write the memoirs of your very interesting career, my dear fellow.  I can not listen to your babble longer.”

“I do not intend that you shall; but your whereabouts on Monday night, March eighteenth, of this year, may need explanation, Monsieur Chauvenet.”

“If it should, I shall call upon you, my dear fellow!”

“Save yourself the trouble!  The bureau I employed to investigate the matter could assist you much better.  All I could offer would be copies of its very thorough reports.  The number of cups of coffee your friend Durand drank for breakfast this morning at his lodgings in Vienna will reach me in due course!”

“You are really a devil of a fellow, John Armitage!  So much knowledge!  So acute an intellect!  You are too wise to throw away your life futilely.”

“You have been most generous in sparing it thus far!” laughed Armitage, and Chauvenet took instant advantage of his change of humor.

“Perhaps—­perhaps—­I have pledged my faith in the wrong quarter, Monsieur.  If I may say it, we are both fairly clever men; together we could achieve much!”

“So you would sell out, would you?” laughed Armitage.  “You miserable little blackguard, I should like to join forces with you!  Your knack of getting the poison into the right cup every time would be a valuable asset!  But we are not made for each other in this world.  In the next—­who knows?”

“As you will!  I dare say you would be an exacting partner.”

“All of that, Chauvenet!  You do best to stick to your present employer.  He needs you and the like of you—­I don’t!  But remember—­if there’s a sudden death in Vienna, in a certain high quarter, you will not live to reap the benefits.  Charles Louis rules Austria-Hungary; his cousin, your friend Francis, is not of kingly proportions.  I advise you to cable the amiable Durand of a dissolution of partnership.  It is now too late for you to call at Judge Claiborne’s, and I shall trouble you to walk on down the road for ten minutes.  If you look round or follow me, I shall certainly turn you into something less attractive than a pillar of salt.  You do well to consult your watch—­forward!”