“My sister,” he said, “regretted exceedingly her inability to be present. She will pay her respects to your Majesty later.”
The King frowned. His manner was impatient.
“It is now that I require her help,” he said. “The Baroness is an utter impossibility. Her French is unrecognizable, she remembers no one, and the woman herself with her dyed hair and feathers is a caricature. Your sister must really make an effort, Reist. She must come and help me out.”
“I will see that your Majesty’s wishes,” Reist answered quietly, “are conveyed to her.”
The King eyed him keenly. Reist then was concealing something. His sister’s absence was not motiveless.
“On reflection,” he said, “I desire to emphasize my wishes. Your sister’s absence is significant, and might possibly be commented upon. You will go yourself and fetch her, Nicholas. Say that I desire her immediate presence.”
“Your Majesty,” Reist protested, “my sister may have to make her toilette. Her immediate return with me will doubtless be impossible.”
“The Countess will use her own discretion as to the time she keeps me waiting,” Ughtred answered coolly. “I have told you that I shall await your return.”
Reist turned away with immovable face. Ughtred remained in the ante-room alone. He lit a cigarette, and took a pile of telegrams from the table by his side. Selecting the topmost he read it thoughtfully to himself.