"I have already spoken to you about it," Grumbach returned. "The matter has gone badly. But I am here to ask a favor, a great favor, one that will need all your diplomacy to gain for me."
"Ah"
"For myself I ask nothing. A horrible blunder has been made. You will go to the grand duke and ask immunity for this Gipsy and this clock-mender, as witnesses to the disclosure which I shall make to his highness. Without this immunity my lips will be sealed for ever. As I said, I ask nothing for myself, nothing. There has been a great blunder and a great wrong, too; but God sent me here to right it. Will you do this?"
"But I must know--," began Carmichael.
"You will know everything, once you obtain this concession from the duke."
"But why don't you want immunity for yourself?"
"There must be some one for the duke to punish," heroically; "otherwise he will refuse."
"Still, suppose I bargain for you, too?"
"When you tell him my name is Breunner there will be no bargaining."
"What has this clock-mender to do with the case?"
"He is Count von Arnsberg."
"By George! And this Gipsy?"
"The man who bribed me. Arnsberg is an innocent man; but this has to be proved, and you are going to help us prove it."
All this was in English; the Gipsy and the former chancellor understood little or nothing.
"I will do what I can, Hans, and I will let you know the result after dinner to-night."
"That will be enough. But unless he concedes, do not tell him our names. That would be ruin and nothing gained."
"You have me a bit dazed," Carmichael admitted. "I ought to know what this blunder is, to have something to stand on."
Grumbach shook his head. "Later every question will be answered. And remember, at this interview Herbeck must not be present. It will have to be broken to him gently."
"Very well; I promise to see his highness this afternoon."
Grumbach translated the substance of this dialogue to his companions. They approved. The three of them solemnly trooped out, leaving Carmichael bewildered. Alone, his mind searched a thousand channels, but these were blind and led nowhere. Blunder, wrong? What did Grumbach mean by that? What kind of a blunder, and who was innocently wronged? No use! And while he was thus racking his mind he heard steps on the stairs. These steps were hurried. The door above shut noisily.
"By George! I'll attend to that this minute. We'll see what stuff this yellow-haired boy is made of."
He mounted the stairs without sound. He grasped the handle of the door, boldly pushed it open, and entered, closing the door and placing his back against it.