"What Mazaroff was saying will keep," that individual muttered significantly. "There is no hurry; and the mere idea of keeping her majesty waiting——"
He bowed and smiled. It was quite clear to Jessie, who was once more outside the window, that the Russian had no idea that anything but accident had postponed his accusation. He was talking to Varney now in the most natural manner. With her hand under his arm the queen had led Merehaven away. Presently Mazaroff made an excuse and followed. Jessie stepped into the room.
"That was a very near thing, my dear," Varney said coolly. "If the queen had not come in——"
"I fetched her," Jessie said. "By great good luck I was by the window at the time. Keep Mazaroff's mouth sealed to-night, and by this time to-morrow, when he is confronted with Vera Galloway, he will see the real Vera and nobody else."
"Then you have been quite successful in your mission?" Varney asked eagerly.
Jessie proceeded to explain, and as she did so Varney's face grew grave. But after all, he reflected, things are not quite so bad as they might be. The enemy was utterly at a loss, and could not possibly know that those papers had vanished.
"You have done wonderfully well between you," Varney said at length. "What was that? I fancied that I saw the shadow of a man lurking in the garden. Just by those mimosa tubs."
Surely enough a shadow flitted along, and somebody began softly whistling a few bars of an opera. Hardly was the first bar on the man's lips before [another man dashed forward and struck the whistler to the ground.] There was a struggle, the sound of a blow or two, a suggestion of punishment for loafers hanging about there with a felonious intention, and the figure of the first man rose and ran headlong down the garden. In the distance the clang of the wooden door could be heard.
