I dashed into my bedroom, had a bath and changed out of Nikolitch’s uniform—which was a good deal the worse for the night’s wear—had my breakfast, establishing probably an American record for eating speed, and sat down to knock off the cables and letters which my hurried departure necessitated.
I was deep in one to Nikolitch explaining things and telling him I had made all excuses for him with Petrosch, when Karasch arrived.
“I hardly hoped to find you——” he began.
“You must shelve all that, Karasch,” I interposed. “You’ve got to leave the city with me in less than an hour from now; and see here, take money to pay those men liberally for what they did last night and tell them they’d better hold their tongues and skip for a while. You must be at the depot in an hour ready to go.”
“Are you....”
“Don’t ask a question now. All has gone right. Be off with you,” and I got up and opened the door to hustle him off. As I did so, Elma was in the hall, and Buller was protesting that I could not receive her.
At sight of me she pushed past him and came into my room. She was as full of agitation as a setting hen over her first chick; and when she saw from my face that I was in high spirits her astonishment was boundless.
“I’m leaving,” I said, pithily.
“Running away?” she exclaimed.
“That’s about the size of it. Can I do anything for you in Vienna?” I had no anger left for her, or indeed for anyone.