I protested with some confusion that she could count on far more than my sympathies.
"It may be," she replied. "But I believe, Mr. Buckler, the whole story of woman might be written in one phrase. 'Tis the continual mistaking of lath for steel."
"And never steel for lath?" I asked.
"At times, no doubt," she answered, recovering herself with an easy laugh. "But we only find that error out when the steel cuts us. So either way are we unfortunate. Therefore, I will e'en pursue my inquiries," and she stepped off into the inner room, whither presently I went to join her.
"Well, what have you discovered?" I asked.
"Nothing," she replied, with a plaintive shake of the head. "You disappoint me sorely, Mr. Buckler. A student from the University of Leyden should line his walls with volumes and folios, and I have found but one book of Latin poems in that room, and not so much as a pamphlet in this."
I started. The book of poems could be no other than my copy of Horace, and it contained the plan of Lukstein Castle. I reflected, however, that the plan was a mere diagram of lines, without even a letter to explain it, and with only a cross at the point of ascent. The Countess, moreover, had spoken in all levity; her tone betrayed no hint of an afterthought.
A small package fastened with string lay on the table before her, and beside of it a letter in Elmscott's handwriting. She picked up the package.
"And what new purchase is this?" she asked, with a smile.
"I know nothing of it. It is no purchase, and I gather from the inscription of the letter it comes from my cousin."