"I thought you did."
I hesitated a moment and then purged myself of the truth. "As a matter of fact, I have reason to believe she's in love with Amberdale and has been for a long time. I'm not saying it in disparagement, believe me. God knows she's entitled to something decent and fine in the shape of love. I hope he's good enough for her."
They looked at me with interest, and Smith broke the momentary silence.
"Oh, he's good enough for her," he said, with a queer smile.
"I'm glad of that," I said gruffly.
"The old la—I mean Mrs. Titus will be tickled to death if the match is pulled off," said Hazzard.
"She was tickled the first time," said I sententiously, and changed the subject. There was no sense in prolonging the agony.
Toward the close of their visit, a message arrived from the Countess herself, signed with the fictitious name we had agreed upon. The news she gave caused us to celebrate that night. We had a bonfire in the courtyard and drank to the god of Good Luck.
"Cargo safely landed in New York and forwarded to the Adirondacks for storage and to await the appearance of a claimant. Former owner has agreed to accept million and a half and release all claims. When are you coming over? (Signed) Alrose."
By the most extraordinary coincidence, a curt, business-like letter arrived in the evening post from Maris Tarnowsy, post-marked Paris. Its contents staggered me.