“All right,” said Cyril, and the financier departed. On his return from his walk, the astonished Mansfield was desired to hold himself in readiness for a journey to Syria, which might become necessary at any time within the next month. No explanation was given, but he attributed the probable necessity to the business of the Syndicate, and having made his preparations, awaited placidly the summons to start. CHAPTER X. TAKING COUNSEL WITH BABES. On the third morning after the departure of the Chevalier, Mansfield was sitting writing in the anteroom at the hotel, when the garden door opened violently, and an elderly lady hurried up to the house. Mansfield thought she was a _Kurgäste_ who had lost her way, for she was wrapped in a loose cloak, and had a lace scarf thrown over her head, in the style affected early in the day by ladies who were taking the waters. On going to the door, he was astonished to find himself face to face with Countess Birnsdorf, in a state of violent excitement. “Where is Count Mortimer?” she cried, trying to push past him. “I insist on seeing him immediately.” “I will find out whether his Excellency is able to see you, Countess,” said Mansfield, holding his ground. “He may be engaged.” “Oh, then he is here? Then I am not too late!” and the old lady sank down upon a bench and broke into gasping sobs. “Oh, Mr Secretary, let me see him. I must see him, I tell you!” Surprised and perplexed, Mansfield knocked at Cyril’s door. “Countess Birnsdorf is here, Count, and says she must see you. She is in a terrible state about something,” he added, stepping inside the room. “What can be the matter now?” said Cyril. “Some trick of the Princess’s, I suppose. Well, you had better ask her in.” Before Mansfield could obey, the Countess, her suspicions roused by his closing the door behind him, forced her way in. For an instant she stared wildly round the room and incredulously at Cyril, then flung herself at his feet. “Oh, Count, give her back to us! Where is she? What have you done with her--my little Princess? She never did you any harm. You may cherish a grudge against her mother, but have you the heart to revenge yourself on the child?” “Calm yourself, Countess,” said Cyril, so gently that the old lady choked back her sobs and allowed him to raise her and lead her to a seat. “What has happened to the Princess? I don’t understand you.” “She is gone,” sobbed Countess Birnsdorf, “and so is the Frenchwoman, her attendant. No one saw them leave the house, and there is not so much as a note to say where they are gone. As soon as the poor Princess--her mother--heard the awful news, she said, ‘This is Count Mortimer’s doing. He is taking his revenge on me,’ and I threw on a cloak and ran all the way here in the hope of softening your heart before it was too late.”