"I did and met them. But they are not of half as much interest to you as some one else—two people—I met."
"But who?"
"Can't you guess?"
"I know!" cried Guadalupe Bascom. "Langdon and Madeleine Masters."
"No! What would they be doing in Berlin?" demanded Mrs. Ballinger. "I thought he was editing some paper in New York."
"'Lupie has guessed correctly. It's evident that you don't keep up.
We're just the same old stick-in-the-muds. 'Lupie, how did you guess?
I'll wager you never see a New York newspaper yourself."
"Not I. But one does hear a little Eastern news now and again. I happen to know that Masters has made a success of his paper and it would be just like him to go to the Congress of Berlin. What was he doing there?"
"Oh, nothing in particular. Merely corresponding with his paper, and, in the eyes of many, eclipsing Blowitz."
"Who is Blowitz?"
"Mon dieu! Mon dieu! But after all London is farther off than New York, and I don't fancy you read the Times when you are there—which is briefly and seldom. Paris is our Mecca. Well, Blowitz—"