“What are you doing in my garden?” She demanded with an effort to master her fears.
He bowed.
“Bitte. That is the concern of my secret business. I wish to meet a certain person very quietly, and induce that person to return with me very quietly—to—shall I say?—yes?—his family? Yes. I wish to take a certain great person home. Why I now make myself known to you, that I will explain. In the peaceful and very secret pursuit of my duties, I have been perceived by a lady of some age and much excitement, who screams like a parrot because she sees me looking, very gently, over your balcony. I wish to give no alarms. Therefore I look no more over your balcony. Instead, I hide in the river-grass till the guests have departed and the lights you have put out. Then I return. But it becomes unsafe in your garden. There are bandits. I have been shot in the leg. Donnerwetter! I have been detestably shot in the leg! Therefore, I make myself known and request your permission to continue to watch, in the road below your garden, for the arrival of a certain person—without attacks from bandits. I will sit upon a stone under the cypress trees. I will alarm no one. I request only that I be no more attacked.”
“Oh yes! oh, please go now. No one will attack you.”
He bowed again, twice.
“Grazia, grazia, signora. It is most important that my business remain secret. Be at ease. You, also, are safe while Teodor Carl Peter Lassanavatiewicz is in your garden. Comfort your alarms. I request it as a charity, madam,—will you of your goodness give me of the linen, with which you have doubtless tended the wounds of the man of your household, who has been attacked by the violent savages who infest this road. I heard the terrible battle in the darkness. I tried to escape. Psst! I was shot!”
Holding out her arm on which he had hung the strips, and keeping herself literally ’at arm’s length’ from his touch, she indicated that he was to help himself. He took three pieces, bowed after each taking, and thanked her in three languages.
“Danke schön. Grazia. Je vous remercie mille fois, madame.” Then, with an expression and gesture of dislike, he added, “But I forget! you speak only this desolating and dolorific English—which I detest. Adios. Farewell.” On the verandah, he paused. “When my secret business is accomplished, I rejoice to return to Europe and my own country, where there are no dangers to the distinguished official high in the secret police. I give a gold coin to the brigands of Poland or to the anarchists of our Balkans. ‘¿De dónde bueno? Si, Señor.’ So it is happily arranged. Here, no! They wait not for ‘good-evening.’ They shoot—in the leg! Donnerwetter! I, who have fought close to all the rebellions in Woodseweedsetisky without a match-burn, I have here been execrably wounded in the leg. It is insult!” His voice trembled and tears of humiliation wetted his cheeks. Drawing himself up, he put on his hat and gestured to her with the formality of a military salute. “Je vous rends grâces, madame.” He limped out, with groans that grew fainter as he progressed into the garden.
Mrs. Mearely stared after him, still in doubt that he had really occurred. She tiptoed, fearfully, to the door and peeped out, to satisfy herself that he was not loitering on her verandah. What had he said in explanation of his presence? She tried to recall his words, but remembered only the phrases about taking a certain great person home, diplomatic service of some country, or city, hitherto unheard of, and that he had looked over the balcony before and been screamed at by a lady of some age and much excitement. So it was he and not the vagabond who had looked over her balcony, alarming Mrs. Witherby. Then who was the vagabond and why had he also come to Villa Rose? Was there any connection between the two? Were they both dark and secret “gentlemen burglars,” about to strip Villa Rose of all its antiques? She rejected this suspicion firmly, as soon as it rose. Romance forbade it.
In putting the bowl back on the stand she knocked off the Digest and the Browning. Automatically, she picked them up. The caption “A Runaway Prince” caught her eye and held it. Gradually her expression changed. The colour burned in her cheeks again, as the thrill of amazement and excitement palpitated through her. She scanned the article feverishly, muttering snatches of it aloud.