"It makes me shiver to contemplate it," asserted the inspector.
"My brave deliverer," murmured the lady, in a dulcet voice. "Single-handed, he——"
She suddenly buried her face in her hands and quivered from head to foot.
The inspector looked up at mother Friedel with an air of grave compassion.
"Hysterical," said he; "ah, no wonder!"
Dame Friedel began to loosen the lady's handsome claret-coloured travelling-mantle, whilst Sidonia drew a velvet, white-plumed hat from the loveliest dark head in all the world.
"Well ... ah!—Schmidt," said Inspector Meyer, "his Majesty will hear of your conduct."
"Thank you, Mr.—ah!—Meyer," rejoined the burly Schmidt, with an unaccountably waggish grin.
"Ah, ha, ha!" cried the lady. She flung back her head and flung down her hands; the tears were streaming upon her uncovered cheeks. It might be hysterics, but Steven thought it was the most becoming combination of emotions he had ever beheld.
She wiped her eyes and sprang up as lightly as a bird. Emerging from the folds of her cloak, she displayed a clinging robe of pale blue, fastened under the bust by a belt of amethysts set in gold. She had an exquisite roundness of form; an open, smiling mouth. Her eyes were innocent and dark and deep. She was (Steven felt) a revelation. And withal, what a great lady! What an air of breeding! What elegance! An Austrian gentleman knows the value of jewels. Heavens, what rings on her fingers! What pearls in her ears!