I calculated that it would be a very simple matter for me to pretend to fly into a passion at the moment of any crisis, and to so work myself up that it would seem a natural enough thing for me to hurl something solid at Gustav and, missing him, to break the window. I looked round for a suitable missile, and selected a very solid glass ink bottle.
Count Gustav kept his word and arrived a few minutes after I had sent James Perry away. I had left the front door partly open, so that he might not have to ask for Madame d'Artelle; and he walked right in, tried the door of the room I had locked, and then entered that where I was waiting for him.
His surprise at seeing me was complete. Had I been a ghost, he could not have stared at me in greater amazement.
"Good-morning, Count Gustav, I am glad you have come."
"Where is Madame d'Artelle?" he asked, very sharply.
"It is scant courtesy not to return my greeting. You are probably so surprised as to forget your manners. You had better find her for yourself," and affecting irritation, I turned away and picked up a book.
"Good-morning, Miss—what name shall I use now?" he replied with a sneer.
"You may use either Gilmore or von Dreschler as you please. Names are of small account after what has happened here."
"Where is Madame d'Artelle?"
"She has done that which might be expected of her in a crisis like this—run away. She is probably across the frontier now."