“Those wonderful States again. Tell me a lot about them. My new country,” she added sweetly.
“There are no Kalkovs in them, for one thing, and—what’s this, I wonder,” I broke off, as a man came in and spoke to M. Drougoff.
It was nothing, or apparently nothing, for the man went out again, and his superior sank again into the condition of watchful inactivity, the result I concluded of many years’ training in spy work.
“I wish to Heaven Marvyn would send us word what’s doing. He might know one would be anxious.”
“He can scarcely have done anything yet. He has been gone barely an hour,” said Helga gently.
“I told him he’d have to hustle.”
“But he does not know the Prince is getting better.”
“If he doesn’t hurry up as if he did know it, he’s—well, he’s an ass, and my father ought never to have got him into the diplomatic service. Yes, laugh away, I know I’m an idiot; but it helps a heap to blame the other fellow;” and I laughed, too.
And so the minutes dragged until something did happen.
Another message was brought to Drougoff, and this time he got up and approached us.