THE YELLOW DOVE
“Oh, no. I was sure that they were men of Scotland Yard.”
“Are you sure now?”
“Oh, yes. Subsequent events have proved it to me conclusively.”
“Oh! What events?”
“The things that Mr. Rizzio did and what he wrote.”
“He wrote—to you?”
“Yes.”
Rizzio was swallowing uneasily, his face pale, his hands trembling.
“Excellenz, I can explain at another time.”
Von Stromberg regarded him coolly.
“I will hear you at another time. For the present, Fräulein Mather will speak. What did Mr. Rizzio write to you that led you to think that Mr. Rizzio was in communication with Scotland Yard?”
“This letter, Excellenz.” She put her fingers into her waist and handed a crumpled paper to the General. Rizzio had risen again and would have interposed but von Stromberg waved him aside.
“You will all keep silence until questioned,” he said abruptly, and then smoothing the letter upon his knee, read it with great care and deliberateness. Rizzio made an effort at composure but only succeeded in bringing out a handkerchief and wiping his brows. Hammersley watched von Stromberg intently. He was not aware of the contents of this letter but the attitude of the girl was distinctly reassuring. Von Stromberg’s brow puckered disagreeably and his long nose neared the paper while his eyes peered at the sheet as though his fiery gaze would burn into it.
He read the paper through twice and then brought his hand down upon the table with a crash while his
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