"I am; for I owe you more than if you had fought the duel." I looked at him in some astonishment. "I have only to-day heard the definite decision," he continued. "You gave me the clue, and I did not fail to follow it up. You say my men are not sleuth hounds. Give them a blood scent like that and try."
"All of which is unintelligible to me," I replied, noting with surprise his excitement and exultation.
"Heavens, lad, I'm more sorry than ever you're not going to join us. And now that that hindrance is out of the path, the path is brighter than ever. What fools you young fellows are to go tumbling into what you call love, and playing the devil with a career for the sake of muslin and silks and pretty cheeks. I suppose..." he looked questioningly, and waited as if for me to speak.
"Suppose what?" I knew what he meant well enough, but liked to make him speak out.
"That you've really made up your mind or whatever you call it, not to stop in Russia?"
"Absolutely. I'm going to commit social suicide and marry for love—that is, if I can only find my sweetheart; or rather if you can find her for me."
"I wish I couldn't," he returned; and then fearing I should misunderstand him, added:—"I don't mean that. I mean, I'm sorry I'm not to have your help."
"At one time it looked as though you were going to have it whether I would or no, and I'm afraid I may have misled you and—and others somewhat. I'm sorry for this."
"Save your vanity, youngster," he said with a short laugh, understanding me. "My sister is no love-sick maiden with her head full of a silly fancy that any one man is necessary to her."
I flushed a little at the rebuke; and bit my lip.