The archduke bellowed: “Zerbst! Zerbst! Zerbst!”
The chauffeur looked at him with compassionate eyes. The archduke’s bellow, for all his huge round bulk, was but a thin and reedy cry. No answer came to it; no one came from the path to the knoll.
“P’raps if I was to give him a call, your Grace,” said the chauffeur, somewhat complacent at displaying his knowledge of the right way to address an archduke.
“Yes, shout!” said the archduke quickly.
The chauffeur rose to his full height in the car and bellowed: “Zerbst! Zerbst! Zerbst!”
No answer came to the call; no one came from the path to the knoll.
In three minutes the archduke was grinding his teeth in a black fury.
Then with an air of inspiration he cried: “I shout—you shout—all ad vonce!”
“Every little ’elps,” said the chauffeur politely.