Taking an opportunity when her father was absorbed in his game of tarok, she went into the next room and presently returned with a key in her hand, which she surreptitiously gave to my lord.
"Splendid!" exclaimed the young man gaily. "Klara, you are a gem, and after supper you shall just ask me for anything you have a fancy for, and I'll give it to you. Now I'd better go. Good-bye, little one. Ten o'clock sharp, eh?"
"Ten o'clock," she repeated, under her breath.
He strode to the door, outside which he found Leopold waiting for him.
"The horse was quite quiet, my lord," said the Jew sullenly; "the boy had never left it for a moment."
"Oh! that's all right, Hirsch," rejoined my lord indifferently. "I only wanted to know."
Of course he never thought of saying a word of thanks or of excuse to the other man. What would you? A Jew! Bah! not even worth a nod of the head.
Count Feri Rákosy had quickly mounted his pretty, half-bred Arab mare—a click of the tongue and she was off with him, kicking up a cloud of dust in her wake.
But Leopold Hirsch had remained for a moment standing on the doorstep of Ignácz Goldstein's house. He watched horse and rider through that cloud of dust, and along the straight and broad highway, until both had become a mere speck upon the low-lying horizon.
"May you break your accursed neck!" he muttered fervently.