"Oh, any old thing—Warren, Mr. Warren. Leave the classification to me. Self-identification is an American trait!"
She crossed the cabin, and after a timid pause opened the door.
"Come in," she murmured.
"Ah, I'm intruding," exclaimed Carlos, Duke of Alva, with an intonation which expressed an invitation for Warren Jarvis to make a graceful exit.
"Not at all," blankly observed Jarvis. "I've just been discussing my professional task at the castle; as a member of the family you can give me some good working material."
"I don't understand," spluttered Carlos, taken aback.
"Pardon me, cousin. This is Mr. Warren, of America, who has consented to help me. My cousin, the Duke of Alva." She walked behind the two men, comparing them keenly: the deadly parallel column was not at all unfavorable to the insouciant Kentuckian.
"Glad to know you," volunteered Jarvis. "Have a cigarette?"
"I never smoke in the presence of ladies," retorted the Duke. Then with a patronizing air he added: "I am honored to meet you, sir, if you are in my royal cousin's employ. So, you are interested in the castle?"
"Oh, not so much in the castle as in the ghost. I'll attend to him."