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--"

The old man nodded.

"--that packet contained the Archduke Karl's sworn arraignment of his
wife. It is of great importance, indeed, to Francis, his worthless son,
or supposed son, who may present himself for coronation one of these
days!"

"Not with Karl appearing in all parts of the world, never quite dead,
never quite alive--and his son Frederick Augustus lurking with him in the
shadows. Who knows whether they are dead?"

"I am the only person on earth in a position to make that clear," said
John Armitage.

"Then you should give me the documents."

"No; I prefer to keep them. I assure you that I have sworn proof of the
death of the Archduke Karl, and of his son Frederick Augustus. Those
papers are in a box in the Bronx Loan and Trust Company, in New York
City."

"I should have them; I _must_ have them!" thundered the old man.

"In due season; but not just now. In fact, I have regretted parting with
that document I gave you in Paris. It is safer in America than in Vienna.
If you please, I should like to have it again, sir."

The palsy in the old man's hands had increased, and he strove to control
his agitation; but fear had never been reckoned among his weaknesses, and
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