"Are you prepared to say the same to your friend in London--will you cable that news to Mr. Gessner?" "I was going to do so without any loss of time. You can send the message for me if you like." "Nothing will be easier. Let me take it down at your dictation. Really I am not offended. You have been deceived and are right to say what you think. Our friend at Hampstead shall judge between us." He lighted a cigarette with apparent unconcern and sat down before the writing-table near the window. "Now," he asked, "how shall we put it to him?" Alban came over and stood by his side. "Say that Paul Boriskoff must be released by his intervention without any condition whatever." "He will never consent to that." "He will have to consent, Count Sergius. His personal safety depends upon it." "But, my dear boy, what of the girl? Are you going to leave her here to shout our friend's secret all over Warsaw?" "She has not spoken and she will not speak, Count." "Ah, you are among the credulous. Your confidence flatters her, I fear." "It is just--she has never lied to me." The Count shrugged his shoulders. "I will send your message," he said. He wrote the cable in a fine pointed hand and duly delivered it to the waiter. His own would follow it ten minutes later--when he had made up his mind how to act. A dangerous thought had come to him and begun to obsess his mind. This English boy, he was saying, might yet be a more dangerous enemy than the girl they had set out to trap. It might yet be necessary to clap them both in the same prison until the whole truth were known. He resolved to debate it at his leisure. There was plenty of time, for the police were watching all the exits from the city, and if Lois Boriskoff attempted to pass out, God help her. "We must not expect an answer to this before dinner," he said, holding out the message for the waiter to take it. "If you think it all right, we can proceed to amuse ourselves until the reply comes. Warsaw is somewhat a remarkable city as you will already have seen. Some of its finest monuments have been erected to celebrate the execution of its best patriots. Every public square stands for an insurrection. The castle is fortified not against the stranger but the citizen--those guns you tell me about were put there by Nicolas to remind us that he would stand no nonsense. We are the sons of a nation which, officially, does not exist--but we honor our dead kings everywhere and can show you some of Thorwaldsen's finest monuments to them. Let us go out and see these wonders if you are willing."