"What do you think of Burgundy, Sir Max?" asked the burgher.
"I like Grote's inn well," answered Max. "I like the castle dungeon ill. I have seen little else of Burgundy save in our journey down the Somme. Then I saw nothing but the road on the opposite bank. Had I tried to see the country I should have failed; the dust-cloud we carried with us was impenetrable." He turned to Yolanda, "That was a hard journey for you, Fräulein."
"No, no," she cried, "it was glorious. The excitement was worth a lifetime of monotony; it was delightful. I could feel my heart beat all the time, and no woman is sure she lives until she feels the beating of her heart."
I suspected a double meaning in her words, but no trace of self-consciousness was visible in her face.
"I have often wondered, Fräulein, if the papers reached the castle before the duke arrived?" asked Max.
"What papers?" queried Yolanda.
"Why, the papers we made the mad race to deliver," answered Max.
"Oh, y-e-s," responded the girl, "they arrived just in time."
"And were delivered at the gate?" I suggested.
A quick, angry glance of surprise shot from Yolanda's eyes, and rising from her chair she entered the house. Twonette followed her, and the two did not return for an hour. I was accumulating evidence on the subject of my puzzling riddle, but I feared my last batch might prove expensive. I saw the mistake my tongue had led me into. Many a man has wrecked his fortune by airing his wit.