“Yes, she’s a person I have known. It’s—it’s all right about that plan of yours, Chancellor. She’s going with me to the lodge.”
“Heaven be praised! It seems almost too good to be true. When does she go?”
“At once. That is, as soon as she can get ready. She will dine with me, and my equerry will stop behind and eat the dinner I had ordered here.”
“Magnificent. Then she will go with you alone? Nothing could be better. The presence of the alleged mother as chaperon would be a drawback.”
“Oh, no chaperon is needed for us two. The—er—mother remains at the hotel with a la—a companion they have, who is ill. It was—er—somewhat difficult to arrange this matter, but I don’t think the plot I have in mind now will fail, provided you carry through your part as smartly as I have mine.”
“You may depend upon me. Your Royal Highness is marvelous. Am I to understand that the lady goes with you quite of her own free will?”
“Quite. I flatter myself that she’s rather pleased with the invitation. In a few minutes, I and the fair damsel will be spinning away for a drive in my red motor; you know, the one which I always leave at the lodge, to be ready for use whenever I choose to pay a flying visit. I shall keep her out until it’s dark, to give you plenty of time, but before starting I’ll telephone to my chef that, after all, I sha’n’t be away, and he must prepare dinner for two.”
“I also will send a telephone message,” said the Chancellor.
“To Leopold?”