“Be good enough to take this dictation.”

Karslake turned to the table and opened a portfolio of illuminated Spanish leather.

“Ready, sir,” he said, with pencil poised.

"To Michael Lanyard, Intelligence Division, the War Office, Whitehall.  Sir:  Your daughter Sofia is now with me.  Permit me to suggest that, in consideration of this situation, you cease to meddle with my affairs.  Your own intelligence must tell you nothing could be more fatal than an attempt to communicate with her.”

“Sign on the typewriter with the initial V.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Type it on plain paper, use a plain envelope, be sure that neither has a watermark, and get it off to-night without fail.  Take a taxi to St. Pancras station and post it there.  If you make haste you can get it in a pillar-box before the last collection.”

“I shan’t lose a minute, sir.”

Karslake straightened up, folding the paper, and made for the door.

“One moment, Karslake....  This man, Nogam:  where did you pick him up?”

“He used to buttle for my father, sir, but got into trouble—­some domestic unpleasantness, I believe—­needed money, and raised a cheque.  The old boy let him off easy; but I’ve got the cheque, and Nogam knows it.  The fellow’s perfectly trained and absolutely dependable, knows his place and his duties and not another blessed thing.  I’ll send him in if you like.”

Prince Victor uttered with dry accent:  “Why?”

“Thought you might care to have a talk with him, sir.”

“I have.”

“Oh!” Mr. Karslake exclaimed—­“I didn’t know.”

“Quite so,” commented Prince Victor.  “I shan’t need you again to-night, Karslake.”

“Good-night, sir.”

When the secretary had gone, Victor sat motionless, so still that his breathing scarcely stirred his body, with a face absolutely imperturbable, steadfastly gazing into that darkness which shrouded the workings of his mind.

On the doorstep a shrill whistle sounded:  Nogam calling Karslake’s taxi.  Victor heard the vehicle roll in and stand panting at the curb, then the slam of its door, the diminishing rumble of its departure.

The house door closed, and after a little the study door opened, and Nogam halted on the threshold.

Unstirring Victor enquired:  “What is it, Nogam?”

“I wished to enquire would there be anything more to-night, sir.”

“Nothing.”

“’Nk you, sir.”

“But Nogam:  in this house, regardless of the custom which may have obtained in other establishments where you have served, you will always knock before entering a room, and never enter until you obtain permission.”

“But if I’m sure the room is empty, sir, and get no answer—?”

“Then you may enter any room but this.  Never this, unless I am here—­or Mr. Karslake is—­and you get leave.”