The next moment I was bowing to Gatrina and the King and Queen, and their circle moved away leaving us together. I mumbled some commonplace about being charmed to have such a guide. This was for the benefit of those within earshot about us; and before she could reply an interruption came.
Elma swept up, superbly dressed and full of confidence, and held out her hand to me.
“How do you do, Mr. Bergwyn? I am glad to see an old friend here. How pale you look, Gatrina. Are you ill?”
“No, thank you. The room is hot.”
“That is so often the cause, isn’t it?” she replied, with flagrant and almost insolent disbelief in the excuse. “You must be careful, dear. You are not strong since your terrible experience recently. Do you know of the princess’s adventure and escape, Mr. Bergwyn?”
“I have but just been presented to her, Baroness.”
“Oh, I thought you had met before,” she exclaimed. “Of course, I don’t know why—but then one never does know why one makes such mistakes, does one? Let us go and sit down. You are such an object of attention, Mr. Bergwyn, that you’ll be positively mobbed if we stand here. It isn’t every day we see an American millionaire in Belgrade where we’re all as poor as mice in churches.”
She led the way to some seats, and not knowing what else to do, we followed. She played with admirable confidence. What she knew or guessed about that time in the Bosnian hills, I could not tell, any more than I could see her motive. But she seemed to understand that she had us at a disadvantage and made the most of it adroitly. She was resolved to pose before Gatrina as an old friend of mine, and I did not see how to stop her, although every word had its barb for me.
“You would be surprised, Mr. Bergwyn, and I think you ought to be flattered, at the number of people who wish to know you,” she said as soon as we were seated. “The moment I said you were an old friend of mine, I was pestered, literally pestered, by people wanting to be introduced.”
“I am here on business only, Baroness.”