Ned Strong turned, rather impatiently, and saw that the road was deserted, save that half-way up the hill an open vehicle, that he and Mrs. Brevoort had been too absorbed in conversation to notice when it passed them, was slowly mounting toward the summit.
“We must go back and find her,” cried Mrs. Brevoort, dismounting from her wheel and looking at Ned anxiously.
“It would be useless,” he said, stubbornly. “She has grown tired of riding alone and has gone back to the club-house. Or perhaps she has stopped at the lodge to speak to Rudolph. That’s our old homestead up there, you know, Mrs. Brevoort. Really, I don’t think it would pay us to climb that hill on the remote chance of finding her. We’ll turn off the main road just above here and get back to the club-house at once if you wish. It’s a shorter cut than we could make by retracing our road over the hill.”
Mrs. Brevoort reluctantly remounted her wheel.
“If you had not talked so much nonsense,” she remarked unjustly to Ned Strong as they resumed their way, “we would not have lost track of Kate.”
“A remark that I consider highly complimentary,” commented the youth, smiling contentedly down at the disturbed countenance of Mrs. Brevoort.
CHAPTER XV.
Posadowski passed through Prince Carlo’s sleeping-room and stepped out upon the balcony. The heir to a throne was still dreaming of love and peace in a land where Cupid should reign supreme, as the arch-conspirator joined him. The young man’s face was pensive with the gentle longings that tinged his revery with sadness. He turned toward Posadowski and said cordially: