SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
"The same matter we discussed last night, General?"
"There can be but one matter in the thoughts of all of us now, sir. Pardon me—I understood your Royal Highness would receive me alone."
The Prince gave a low laugh. "When one bargains, shouldn't one have witnesses?"
In an instant Stenovics laid hold of the significant word; it made him forget his request for privacy. An eager light came into his eyes.
"Bargains? You're ready now to—?"
"La nuit porte conseil." He drew a paper from the envelope, unfolded it, and handed it across the table. "You remember that—a memorandum I sent to you three months ago—in my capacity as Commandant?"
Stenovics looked at the paper. "I remember, sir."
"It's indorsed in your hand?"
"Yes."
"The indorsement runs: 'Impossible.' Rather curt, General!"
"The note was for my private use, but your Royal Highness particularly pressed for the return of the document."
"I did. And, after all, why use more words than necessary? One will still be enough—but not that one."
"I'm not following you, sir," said Stenovics.
The Prince leaned across the table to him. "In our conversation, last night, you asked me to do a very remarkable thing, and to get this lady here" (he indicated Sophy) "to do it, too. You remember? We were to think that, at night, in the Street of the Fountain, in the light of the illuminations, Sergius Stefanovitch and Nikolas Stafnitz looked—and sound-
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