“Absolutely,” he affirmed. “To-day’s news makes peace a certainty. If your country knew everything, Louise, they’d give us a royal welcome next month.”
“You really mean that we are to go there, then?” she asked.
“It isn’t exactly one of my privileges,” he declared, “to fix upon the spot where we shall take our belated honeymoon, but I haven’t been in Belgrade for years, and I know you’d like to see your people.”
“It will be more happiness than I ever dreamed of,” she murmured. “Do you think we shall be safe in passing through Vienna?”
Bellamy laughed.
“Remember,” he said, “that I am no longer David Bellamy, with a silver greyhound attached to my watch-chain and an obnoxious reputation in foreign countries. I am Lord Denchester of Denchester, a harmless English peer traveling on his honeymoon. By the way, I hope you like the title.”
“I shall love it when I get used to it,” she declared. “To be an English Countess is dazzling, but I do think that I ought not to go on singing at Covent Garden.”
“To-morrow will be your last night,” he reminded her. “I have asked Laverick and the dear little girl he is going to marry to come with me. Afterwards we must all have supper together.”
“How nice of you!” she exclaimed.
“I don’t know about that,” Bellamy said, smiling. “I really like Laverick. He is a decent fellow and a good sort. Incidentally, he was thundering useful to us, and pretty plucky about it. He interests me, too, in another way. He is a man who, face to face with a moral problem, acted exactly as I should have done myself!”