Clementina

"They are warned to be ready?"

"At your Highness's first word that slip of paper travels to Schlestadt.

It is unsigned, it imperils no one, it betrays nothing. But it will tell

its story none the less surely to those three men, for Gaydon knows my

hand."

The Prince smiled in approval.

"You have prudence, Mr. Warner, as well as audacity," said he. He gave

the paper back, listened for a little to the Countess, who was bending

over her harp-strings, and then remarked, "The Prince's letter was in

his own hand too?"

"But in cipher."

"Ah!"

The Prince was silent for a while. He balanced himself first on one

foot, then on the other.

"Ciphers," said he, "are curious things, compelling to the imagination

and a provocation to the intellect."

Mr. Wogan kept a grave face and he replied with unconcern, though his

heart beat quick; for if the Prince had so much desire to see the

Chevalier's letter, he must be well upon his way to consenting to

Wogan's plan.

"If your Highness will do me the honour to look at this cipher. It has

baffled the most expert."

His Highness condescended to be pleased with Wogan's suggestion. Wogan

crossed the room towards the door; but before he reached it, the

Countess of Berg suddenly took her fingers from her harp-strings with a

gesture of annoyance.

"Mr. Warner," she said, "will you do me the favour to screw this wire

tighter?" And once or twice she struck it with her fingers.

"May I claim that privilege?" said the Prince.

"Your Highness does me too much honour," said the Countess, but the

Prince was already at her side. At once she pointed out to him the

particular string. Wogan went from the room and up the great staircase.

He was lodged in a wing of the palace. From the head of the staircase he

proceeded down a long passage. Towards the end of this passage another

short passage branched off at a right angle on the left-hand side. At

the corner of the two passages stood a table with a lamp and some

candlesticks. This time Wogan took a candle, and lighting it at the lamp

turned into the short passage. It was dark but for the light of Wogan's

candle, and at the end of it facing him were two doors side by side.

Both doors were closed, and of these the one on the left gave onto his

room.

Wogan had walked perhaps halfway from the corner to his door before he

stopped. He stopped suddenly and held his breath. Then he shaded his

candle with the palm of his hand and looked forward. Immediately he

turned, and walking on tiptoe came silently back into the big passage.

Even this was not well lighted; it stretched away upon his right and

left, full of shadows. But it was silent. The only sounds which reached

Wogan as he stood there and listened were the sounds of people moving

and speaking at a great distance. He blew out his candle, cautiously

replaced it on the table, and crept down again towards his room. There

was no window in this small passage, there was no light there at all

except a gleam of silver in front of him and close to the ground. That

gleam of silver was the moonlight shining between the bottom of one of

the doors and the boards of the passage. And that door was not the door

of Wogan's room, but the room beside it. Where his door stood, there

might have been no door at all.