“You’re stark mad,” said the Grand Duke, looking at him disgustedly. “What is the matter, Mr. Grafton?”
“The Duchess Erica has explained all that either of us knows,” replied Grafton, discreetly.
Aloyse appealed to Moltzahn. “Am I not right? Didn’t he call her Erica and kiss her? Weren’t they hid in a thicket?”
Moltzahn bowed. “Your Royal Highness has given the facts as I can testify.”
Grafton, watching the Grand Duke’s face closely, saw a change in it which was instantly corrected. “The old fox,” he thought. “He suspects. What will he do?”
Casimir looked at Moltzahn black as a thunder-cloud. “Liar!” he roared. “How dare you utter such a scandal of Her Serene Highness?” Then he turned to Grafton. “A thousand pardons, Mr. Grafton. We trust you will forget this folly. We owe you an apology. We feel profoundly humiliated.”
“Pray think no more about it,” said Grafton.
“You will pardon us for the brevity of our apologies to-day, we beg. Baron Zeppstein will escort you to your hotel. And we look forward to the pleasure of seeing you at the galleries at eleven to-morrow.”
“At eleven,” said Grafton, bowing to Erica as the Grand Duke, taking his arm, escorted him to the anteroom. They shook hands, the Grand Duke placing his left hand cordially, even affectionately, on Grafton’s shoulder.
Zeppstein had an abstracted companion on the drive, and when Grafton was alone he flung himself on the divan in his sitting-room and abandoned himself to thoughts that gave his face an expression of deep discouragement.