Ian went into his mother's sitting-room, carrying an open telegram.
"Roman Skarbek has wired for horses to meet the express from Posen," he remarked. "He says it's important business."
As Countess Natalie looked up from her letter--she wrote hundreds a year--her hazel eyes twinkled with a mischievous thought.
"Roman and business, indeed! He's after Vanda."
Ian's brows contracted over his clear gray eyes; they were of the kind you find in outdoor men, used to gazing over long distances and watching for wild fowl to come out of the rushes at the dawn of day. Vanda was his cousin, and an orphan; she had lived at Ruvno since her babyhood.
"Give me a cigarette," said his mother, leaving her letter.
He obeyed, offered one to Minnie, who refused, and lit another for himself. The two smoked on in silence for awhile. Roman Skarbek was his cousin, too, though not Vanda's.
"I don't think so," he said.
"Why?" asked his mother.
"He's been to Monte Carlo. If he's had any luck he'll want some horses."