The Grand Duke waved his hand at Zeppstein. “Take yourself off,” he said.
“I hope you won’t send him away,” interposed Grafton. “He’s to blame for me being here. It was his talk in Paris about your Rembrandts that made me come.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that you knew me yesterday,” said Casimir.
“I did; but I thought I’d humor your desire to be unknown. We could talk more freely.”
The Grand Duke took from the table the ribbon and medal of the Order of the Green Hawk, and held it as if he expected Grafton to kneel to receive it. Grafton stretched out his hand for it. The Grand Duke smiled as he gave it to him, and chuckled when Grafton, saying, “Thank you; it is very nice; a great honor; more than I deserve, I’m sure,” put it in his pocket. Erica turned away to the window, her shoulders shaking violently.
After a few minutes’ talk, Grafton rose to take his leave. Zeppstein frowned at him to wait until the Grand Duke rose to indicate that the audience was at an end. The Grand Duke said, “Won’t you lunch with us very informally to-morrow, at two?”
“Thank you,” replied Grafton; “but I have arranged to go on the night train to Ostend.”
“There is a matter—some pictures—I’d much like to talk with you about it.”
Grafton hesitated. His wandering glance noted Erica’s face and its expression. “Thank you,” he said to Casimir, “I can easily change my plans.” And to himself he said: “Why not? I may at least, get my Spaniard.”
After leaving “the presence,” Grafton extricated himself from Zeppstein as quickly as possible, which was not so quickly as he would have liked. He set out alone for the walk to town. A quarter of a mile along that quiet, beautiful road and he saw Erica coming towards him by a side-path.