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Campe shook hands with the specialist in crimes, and Kretz saluted after his military fashion.

“Mr. Ashton-Kirk listened to me tell about Schwartzberg until he felt that he couldn’t live another day without taking it in,” Scanlon informed them. “So he’s come over this morning, hoping it wouldn’t be asking too much.”

Campe’s haunted eyes searched Ashton-Kirk; it was on his lips to refuse the request, when the other stopped him by saying:

“I hope you’ll pardon me; but the fact is, I am something of a student of the period in which your house was built, and its absolute following, line for line, of the ancient plan, is of great interest. The Count Hohenlo, builder of the place, was related to you, I understand.”

“An ancestor of my mother’s.”

“Indeed. That’s very charming. The Count’s career in this country was a most romantic one. The part he played in the history of the republic in its infancy has been obscured by the fanfare made in behalf of men not nearly so notable. His duel with the Frenchman, De La Place, was an exquisite piece of knight errantry; and his defence of the ford below here, while the British occupied the city, was an act of daring which the historians do not make the most of.”