Another moment and Pasquin Leroy entered,--but it was an altogether different Pasquin Leroy to the one that had recently enrolled himself as an associate of Sergius Thord’s Revolutionary Committee. _That_ particular Pasquin had seemed somewhat of a dreamer and a visionary, with a peculiar and striking resemblance to the King; _this_ Pasquin Leroy had all the alertness and sharpness common to a practised journalist, press-reporter or commercial traveller. Moreover, his countenance, adorned with a black mustache, and small pointed beard, wore a cold and concentrated air of business--and he confronted the Jew millionaire without the slightest embarrassment or apology for having broken in upon his seclusion at so unseasonable an hour. He used a pince-nez, and was constantly putting it to his eyes, as though troubled with short-sightedness. “I presume your matter cannot wait, sir,” said Jost, surveying him coolly, without rising from his seat,--“but if it can--” “It cannot!” returned Leroy, bluntly. Jost stared. “So! You come from the Marquis de Lutera?” “I do.” “Your credentials?” Leroy stepped close up to him, and with a sudden movement, which was somewhat startling, held up his right hand. “This signet is, I believe, familiar to you,--and it will be enough to prove that I come on confidential business which cannot be trusted to writing!” Jost gazed at the flashing sapphire on the stranger’s hand with a sense of deadly apprehension. He recognised the Premier’s ring well enough; and he also knew that it would never have been sent to him in this mysterious way unless the matter in question was almost too desperate for whispering within four walls. An uneasy sensation affected him; he pulled at his collar, looked round the room as though in search of inspiration, and then finally bringing his small, swine-like eyes to bear on the neat soldierly figure before him, he said with a careless air: “You probably bring news for the Press affecting the present policy?” “That remains to be seen!” replied Leroy imperturbably; “From a perfectly impartial standpoint, I should imagine that the present policy may have to alter considerably!” Jost recoiled. “Impossible! It cannot be altered!” he said roughly,--then suddenly recollecting himself, he assumed his usual indolent equanimity, and rising slowly, went to a side door in the room and threw it open. “Step in here,” he said; “We can talk without fear of interruption. Will you smoke?” “With pleasure!” replied Leroy, accepting a cigar from the case Jost extended--then glancing with a slight smile at the broad, squat Jewish countenance which had, in the last couple of minutes, lost something of its habitual redness, he added--“I am glad you are disposed to discuss matters with me in a friendly, as well as in a confidential way. It is possible my news may not be altogether agreeable to you;--but of course you would be more willing to suffer personally, than to jeopardise the honour of Ministers.”