n about his bier in Saint Stephen's Cathedral,
at Vienna, while his life and public services would be estimated in
varying degrees of admiration or execration by the newspapers of Europe,
he might not have dealt so harshly with his hard-worked spies.

It was not often that the light in the old man's eyes was as gentle as
now. He had sent his secret agents away and was to return to Vienna on
the following day. The young man whom he now entertained in his
apartments received his whole attention. He picked up the card which lay
on the table and scrutinized it critically, while his eyes lighted with
sudden humor.

The card was a gentleman's _carte de visite_, and bore the name John
Armitage.

"I believe this is the same alias you were using when I saw you in Paris.
Where did you get it?" demanded the minister.

"I rather liked the sound of it, so I had the cards made," replied the
young man. "Besides, it's English, and I pass readily for an Englishman.
I have quite got used to it."

"Which is not particularly creditable; but it's probably just as well
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
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