Meredith Nicholson

The Port of Missing Men Meredith Nicholson

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion. -Troilus andCressida."The knowledge that you're alive gives me no pleasure," growled the grim old Austrianpremier."Thank you!" laughed John Armitage, to whom he had spoken. "You have lost none of yourold amiability; but for a renowned diplomat, you are remarkably frank. When I called onyou in Paris, a year ago, I was able to render you-I believe you admitted it-a slightservice."Count Ferdinand von Stroebel bowed slightly, but did not take his eyes from the young manwho sat opposite him in his rooms at the Hotel Monte Rosa in Geneva. On the table betweenthem stood an open despatch box, and about it lay a number of packets of papers which theold gentleman, with characteristic caution, had removed to his own side of the table beforeadmitting his caller. He was a burly old man, with massive shoulders and a great headthickly covered with iron-gray hair.