So, yawning heavily, he dozed on
his bench in the hall,--woke with a start and dozed again,--while the
clock slowly ticked away the minutes till with a dull clang the hour
struck One. Then on again went the steady and wearisome tick-tick of
the pendulum, for a quarter of an hour, half an hour,--and three-
quarters,--till the utterly fatigued valet was about to knock down a
few walking-sticks and umbrellas, and make a general noise of reminder
to his master as to how the time was going, when, to his great relief,
he heard the inner door open at last, and the voice of the mysterious
visitor ring out in clear, precise accents.
"Nothing will be done publicly, of course,--unless Parliament insists
on an enquiry!" The speaker came towards the hall, and the valet
sprang up from his bench, and stood ready to show the stranger out.
Jost replied, and his accents were thick and unsteady.
"Enquiry cannot be forced! The Marquis himself can burk any such
attempt."
"But--if the King should insist?"
"He would be breaking all the rules of custom and precedent," said
Jost,--"And he would deserve to be dethroned!"
Pasquin Leroy laughed.
"True! Good-night, Mr. Jost! Can I do anything for you in Moscow?" The
two men now came into the full light shed by the great lamp in the
hall. Jost looked darkly red in the face--almost apoplectic; Leroy was
as cool, imperturbable and easy of manner as a practised detective or
professional spy.
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