The countess was looking at him curiously.
“Then you knew perfectly well that she will not be at the dinner to-night. Were you setting a trap of some sort?”
“No—but I wondered who she was. I wasn’t sure.”
“Well, you are now!” she said, and held out her hand to him, and he helped her down the rocky descent to the town. She permitted herself to lean against him once or twice, but he was too preoccupied to notice. Madame Ghita—the mistress of the prince!
The countess looked at him occasionally, trying to read his thoughts, but she did not speak again until they were seated in the motor-car which was awaiting them.
“You saw the prince last night?” she asked.
“Yes; I went over to the Sporting Club after I finished my work. The prince was playing.”
“And losing, of course?”
“No, he was winning heavily. He must have won two hundred thousand francs.”
“Was he alone?”