“I don’t know!” he said helplessly; “I don’t know what it means! I have told you the truth! A man came to see me late last night, saying he was sent by you on urgent business. He said you wished me to explain the position we held, and the amount of the interests we had at stake, as there were grave discoveries pending, and complexities likely to ensue. He gave his name--there is his card!” And with a semi-groan, he threw down the bit of pasteboard in question. The Marquis snatched it up. “‘Pasquin Leroy’! I never heard the name in my life,” he said fiercely. “Jost, you have been done! You mean to tell me you were such a fool as to trust an entire stranger with the whole financial plan of campaign, and that you were credulous enough to believe that he came from me--me--De Lutera,--without any credentials?” “Credentials!” exclaimed Jost; “Do you suppose I would have received him at all had credentials been lacking? Not I! He brought me the most sure and confidential sign of your trust that could be produced--your own signet-ring!” The Marquis staggered back, as though Jost’s words had been so many direct blows on the chest,--his countenance turned a livid white. “My signet-ring!” he repeated,--and almost unconsciously he looked at the hand from which the great jewel was missing; “My signet!”--Then he forced a smile--“Jost, I repeat, you have been done!--doubly fooled!--no one could possibly have obtained my signet,--for at this very moment it is on the hand of the King!” Jost rose slowly out of his chair, his eyes protruding out of his head, his jaw almost dropping in the extremity of his amazement. “The King!”--he gasped--“The King!” “Yes, man, the King!” repeated De Lutera impatiently,--“Only yesterday morning his Majesty, having mislaid his own ring for the moment, borrowed mine just before starting on his yachting cruise. How you stare! You have been fooled!--that is perfectly plain and evident!” “The King!” repeated Jost stupidly--“Then the man who came to me last night--” He broke off, unable to find any words for the expression of the thoughts which began to terrify him. “Well!--the man who came to you last night,” echoed the Marquis,--“He was not the King, I suppose, was he?” And he laughed derisively. “No--he was not the King,” said Jost slowly; “I know _him_ well enough! But it might have been someone in the King’s service! For he knew, or said he knew, the King’s intentions in a certain matter affecting both you and Carl Pérousse,--and in a more distant way, myself--and warned me of a coming change in the policy. Ah!--it is now your turn to stare, Marquis! You had best be on your guard, for if the person who came to me last night was not your messenger, he was the King’s spy! And, in that case, we are lost!” The Marquis paced the room with long uneven strides,--his mind was greatly agitated, but he had no wish to show his perturbation too openly to one whom he considered as a mere tool in his service.