"You shouldn't spoil the place, Mr. Smart," said he, with a careless glance about him.
"Don't ruin the ruins," added Billy Smith, of the diplomatic corps.
"What time do we dine?" asked Mr. Pless, with a suppressed yawn.
"At eight," said Elsie promptly.
We were in the habit of dining at seven-thirty, but I was growing accustomed to the over-riding process, so allowed my dinner hour to be changed without a word.
"I think I'll take a nap," said he. With a languid smile and a little flaunt of his hand as if dismissing us, he moved languidly off, but stopped after a few steps to say to me: "We'll explore the castle to-morrow, Mr. Smart, if it's just the same to you." He spoke with a very slight accent and in a peculiarly attractive manner. There was charm to the man, I was bound to admit. "I know Schloss Rothhoefen very well. It is an old stamping ground of mine."
"Indeed," said I, affecting surprise.
"I spent a very joyous season here not so many years ago. Hohendahl is a bosom friend."
When he was quite out of hearing, Billy Smith leaned over and said to me: "He spent his honeymoon here, old man. It was the girls' idea to bring him here to assuage the present with memories of the past. Quite a pretty sentiment, eh?"
"It depends on how he spent it," I said significantly. Smith grinned approvingly. Being a diplomat he sensed my meaning at once.