When he was gone Rutile stood for a moment gazing out of the window. Then he swore aloud. “It’s a damned shame,” he muttered. “Topham’s the most open-hearted fellow I ever knew, the very sort to take a woman’s word for gospel. Great Scott, how does she do it?” He took a turn or two up and down the room. “After all, though,” he went on, thinking aloud. “It isn’t how she does it. It’s why does she want to do it? What use can Topham be to her in Japan? What possible use can he be to her?”
It never occurred to the secretary that the countess might be in earnest.
CHAPTER XIII
“Are you really going?”
“Really.” Miss Byrd nodded. “Yes! I’m off tonight. My stay in Berlin has been delightful, largely because you have made it so, Mr. Rutile, but I hate to go. But business is business; and this stone doesn’t gather any moss unless she keeps on rolling. So—” she paused.
She was pale and her delicate features seemed a trifle pinched; her lips had not their usual redness. But her tones were brisk and her manner gay.
Rutile studied her consideringly. His naturally impulsive nature had been modified by training and was held in bond by his will.
“I too have found your stay delightful,” he said slowly. “I only wish I could have made it sufficiently pleasant to you to cause you to stay longer in spite of the loss of moss. When shall we meet again?”
Miss Byrd looked him frankly in the eyes; it suddenly occurred to Rutile that he had not realized their depth and color. “Who knows?” she questioned, lightly. “If I lose my job, I may have to go back to Washington; and all diplomats have to go there sooner or later to look after their jobs. So we may meet again in Washington—if it is written that we are to meet at all.”
Rutile nodded. “If it isn’t, it shall be,” he declared. “And I don’t think it will be in Washington, either; I’ve got a hunch that we are to—well, see exciting times together. Didn’t you ever feel like that about anybody?”