I saw things then. There was a moment’s critical silence. Then Helga broke it, speaking in a chill, cutting tone.
“This is the Duchess Stephanie—M. Boreski’s wife.”
“Exactly,” I answered; and for the life of me, acute as the situation had suddenly become, I could not for the time get out another word to redeem it.
The cold, hard look in Helga’s eyes as she faced me was for the time unendurable, and I turned my head away in sheer tongue-tied embarrassment.
Chapter XII—HELGA’S ANGER
IT was certainly one of the most untimely kicks which Fate could have dealt me; and it took all my reserved strength to brace myself and shake off my first feeling of dismay in order to put any sort of face on the thing. But I have a good deal of india-rubber in me.
So I pulled myself together, and surprised them all by turning on Boreski and saying, in a very sharp tone—
“Why didn’t you get here a quarter of an hour sooner, and have saved half this embarrassment?” It is generally a safe tactic when something goes wrong to attack the other fellow. Boreski started, and I followed up the attack. “If you loiter and fool away the time at such a crisis, what is it but just opening the door and inviting trouble to walk in?”