Gessner made no immediate answer. Perhaps he was about to admit the difficulties of the Count's position and to agree that identification was impossible, when suddenly his glance fell upon Alban, waiting, as he had asked, until the interview should be done. And what an inspiration was that--what an instantaneous revelation of possibilities. Let this lad go to Warsaw and he would discover Lois Boriskoff quickly enough. The girl had been in love with him and would hold her tongue at his bidding. As in a flash, he perceived this spar which should save him, and clutched at it. Let the lad go to Warsaw--let him be the agent. If the police arrested the girl after all--well, that would be an accident which he might regret, but certainly would not seek to prevent. A man whose life is imperilled must be one in ten thousand if any common dictates of faith or conduct guide him. Richard Gessner had a fear of death so terrible that he would have dared the uttermost treachery to save himself.
"Count," he exclaimed suddenly, "your agent is here, in this room. He will go to Warsaw at your bidding. He will find the girl."
The Count, who knew something of Alban's story already, received the intimation as though he had expected it.
"It was for that I asked him to wait. I have been thinking of it. He will go to Warsaw and tell the lady that she may obtain her father's liberty upon a condition. Let her make a direct appeal to the Government--and we will consider it. Of course you intend an immediate departure--you are not contemplating a delay, Herr Gessner?"
"Delay--am I the man to delay? He shall go to-morrow by the first train."
A smile hovered upon the Count's face in spite of himself.
"In a week," he was saying to himself, "Lois Boriskoff shall be flogged in the Schusselburg."
In truth, the whip was the weapon he liked best--when women were to be schooled.