At once the Colonel's voice assumed a softer note, and his green eyes began to melt with tenderness.
"Mais Josephine, ma petite, écoutes donc, je t'adore. . . . There, he's passed. Everything is ready. I have got you a Russian soldier's uniform. You have only to put this on, and follow me on board when I go."
"And if someone asks me who I am?"
"You are my Georgian servant. And you can only speak Georgian. Just say this——"
There followed a tongue-twisting sentence, which I tried to memorise.
Meanwhile the band played, and people passed, and inquisitive eyes were turned in our direction.
"That's a spy who knows me," Miss Whitaker would say. "Encore une tasse, mademoiselle? Non? I think we ought to be going."
"We'll settle the final details to-morrow," I whispered.
"Right! Remember to let your beard grow. I couldn't have a smooth-faced orderly."
"Eh bien, mille mercis, Colonel," said I, giving him my hand.