“It’s something to know he fears us also,” I answered. “We have forced him to open these gates for you and you are now the wife of an American citizen. So we have the laugh on him.”
“For a time,” she said thoughtfully.
“No, for all our time. The Stars and Stripes will see to that. Besides, you agreed to meet even our marriage with a laugh;” and then we began to keep the agreement and to put the Prince and all his wiles out of our thoughts.
At breakfast on the following morning Helga was in excellent spirits as we discussed the prospects of our long journey and planned the day’s work of preparation for it. There were a hundred things to do and innumerable purchases to make, and Helga with paper and pencil laughed gaily as the list she made grew until its length was formidable.
“There is one nut we have still to crack,” I said. “What to do with the papers,” and I told her what Marvyn had said to me on the previous night. I had not told her before not wishing to kindle her inflammable anxiety.
“The Prince’s hand is in it, of course, and not for any good,” was her comment.
“That’s the best of dealing with such a man—you can always gamble on it that he means some kind of trouble.”
“I think we may tear this up,” she said, and held up the list we had made so carefully.
“Tear it up? But you—oh, you think we shan’t be allowed to go, after all?”
“I don’t know what I think, but I am sure there is treachery somewhere.”