The officer's smile became self-deprecating. "It is more than I should dare to do, milady," he said. "The major is engaged in conversation with an important government official. I would even ask you kindly, when you see him, not to tell him that I brought you as far as here."
"I couldn't do that, even if I wished, as I don't know your name."
"Lieutenant Uriesu, at your service, milady."
"I suppose," Rosemary went on, after a moment's hesitation, "you couldn't tell me what has become of my husband, Lord Tarkington. He went through the gates and entered the château, then I lost sight of him. But he seemed to be well known inside this place. Could you find out for me where he is?"
"I am afraid not, milady," the young officer replied politely. "I have not the honour of Lord Tarkington's acquaintance."
He stood at attention, waiting for a moment or two to see if the English lady had any further questions she wished to ask; then, as she remained silent, he saluted gravely and went out of the room, leaving Rosemary to bear her soul in patience, and to wonder what in the world had become of Jasper.
At first only a confused murmur of voices came to her ears through the closed doors of Major Buriecha's private room. But gradually one of those voices grew louder and louder, as if raised in anger; and Rosemary, astonished, recognised that it was Jasper speaking—in French, and obviously with authority—to Major Buriecha, the officer commanding! . . . What in the world——?
She heard some words quite distinctly:
"You are a fool, Buriecha! No one but a fool could have been taken in like this."
And the voice that gave reply was humble, apologetic, decidedly tremulous with fear. Rosemary could not distinguish what it said.