The agents had failed in their mission, and Von Stroebel was not tolerant of failure.

Perhaps if he had known that within a week the tapers would burn about his bier in Saint Stephen's Cathedral, at Vienna, while his life and public services would be estimated in varying degrees of admiration or execration by the newspapers of Europe, he might not have dealt so harshly with his hard-worked spies.
It was not often that the light in the old man's eyes was as gentle as now.

He had sent his secret agents away and was to return to Vienna on the following day.

The young man whom he now entertained in his apartments received his whole attention.

He picked up the card which lay on the table and scrutinized it critically, while his eyes lighted with sudden humor.
The card was a gentleman's _carte de visite_, and bore the name John Armitage.
"I believe this is the same alias you were using when I saw you in Paris.
Where did you get it ?" demanded the minister.
"I rather liked the sound of it, so I had the cards made," replied the young man.