'My throat-doctor says motoring is very bad for the voice, so I've given it up,' Margaret said.
'Really? Thank goodness your profession has been of some use to you at last, my dear!'
Margaret laughed.
'Tell us about the Russian count,' she said. 'Has he found lodgings, or is he going to sleep in his motor?'
'My dear, he's the most original man you ever heard of! First he wanted to buy the hotel and turn us all out, and offered any price for it, but the director said it was owned by a company in Munich. Then he sent his secretary about trying to buy a house, while he dined, but that didn't succeed either. He must be very wealthy, or else quite mad.'
'Mad, I should say,' observed Mr. Van Torp, slowly peeling a peach. 'Did you happen to catch his name, Mrs. Rushmore?'
'Oh, yes! We heard nothing else all the afternoon. His name is Kralinsky—Count Kralinsky.'
Mr. Van Torp continued to peel his peach scientifically [{186}] and economically, though he was aware that Margaret was looking at him with sudden curiosity.
'Kralinsky,' he said slowly, keeping his eyes on the silver blade of the knife as he finished what he was doing. 'It's not an uncommon name, I believe. I've heard it before. Sounds Polish, doesn't it?'
He looked up suddenly and showed Margaret the peeled peach on his fork. He smiled as he met her eyes, and she nodded so slightly that Mrs. Rushmore did not notice the movement.