He stood still for a space, undecided. Then he sped
rapidly toward the side gates of the royal gardens. The vehicle stopped
there. But this time no woman came out. Carmichael would have recognized
that lank form anywhere. It was the chancellor. Well, what of it?
Couldn't the chancellor go out in a common hack if he wanted to? But who
was the lady in the veil?
"I've an idea!"
As soon as the chancellor disappeared, Carmichael hailed the coachman.
"Drive me through the gardens."
"It is too late, Herr."
"Well, drive me up and down the Strasse while I finish this cigar."
"Two crowns."
"Three, if your horse behaves well."
"He's as gentle as a lamb, Herr."
"And doubtless will be served as one before long. Can't you throw back
the top?"
"In one minute!" Five crowns and three made eight crowns; not a bad
business these dull times.
Carmichael lolled in the worn cushions, wondering whether or not to
question his man. But it was so unusual for a person of such particular
habits as the chancellor to ride in an ordinary carriage. Carmichael
slid over to the forward seat and touched the jehu on the back.
"Where did you take the chancellor to-night?" he asked.
"_Du lieber Gott!_ Was that his excellency? He said he was the chief
steward.
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