“Yes, as Count Peter Valdemar. I warned him this morning.”
“He told me. You are a friend of—Count Ladislas Tuleski?” She said this with just a suspicion of hesitation.
“An intimate friend. Do you know him?”
“Yes—I know him,—oh, yes: I——” she hesitated, glanced at me and stopped.
“He is one of my most intimate friends and one of the best fellows in the world,” I said enthusiastically.
She made no reply, but glanced swiftly at me again and lowered her head.
“I think I can walk now,” she said presently; and I helped her to rise. “I am not hurt, you see. It was only fright and shock.”
“Thank God it was no worse,” I cried. She did not seem to hear this. “Now, what do you wish to do?”
“I don’t know. What ought I to do? My uncle—do you know the Count was my uncle?—or, rather, not my own uncle, no real blood relation.”
“No, I had no idea.”