“I know a few,” O’Hara answered. “There’s Prince von Eisenthal, and Herr Marscheim, and Count von Ritter, and——”
“Aha!” cried the New York man, gleefully, “now you’ve hit it. Von Ritter—Count von Ritter. He is my Munich friend. What is he? What position does he hold?”
“He is what they call Chancellor, I believe; but in reality he’s a sort of Prime Minister.”
“That’s our man, by all that’s good!” Van Tuyl exclaimed. “We’ll find where he hangs out and call on him. And, girlie,” he added, turning to his daughter, “you’ll know all about it in a few hours.”
“He’ll be at the Assembly session, of course,” said O’Hara.
“Certainly. We’ll go there and send him in a message, and I’ll bet ten dollars to a cent he’ll come a-running. He owes me a debt of gratitude; I put him in the way of placing a government loan at very good figures when the Budavian credit wasn’t the best in all Europe by any means.”
Hope smiled her gratitude. She had great faith in her father. He was of the type of successful Americans that do things.