Beyond the window, at the edge of the forest, he saw a sentinel pacing backward and forward. Indeed, no matter which way he looked, the autumnal scenery had this accessory. Again, he inspected the bars. These were comparatively new. It was about thirty feet to the court below. On the whole, the outlook was discouraging.
“Count,” said the distant relative of the house of Amerbach, “how shall I begin?”
“I am not a diplomat, Madame,” answered the Colonel. “If, however, you wish the advice of a soldier, I should begin by asking if my lord the Englishman has those consols about his person.”
“Fie, count!” she cried, laughing; “one would say that was a prelude to robbery.”
“So they would. As for myself, I prefer violence to words. If we take these pretty papers by violence, we shall still have left our friend the Englishman his self-respect. And as for words, while my acquaintance with our friend is slight, I should say that they would only be wasted here.”
The whistle from the window still rose and fell.
“Monsieur, I have it in my power to make you rich.”
“I am rich,” replied Fitzgerald.
“In honors?”
“Madame, the title I have is already a burden to me.” Fitzgerald laughed, which announced that the cause of the duchess was not getting on very well. Once or twice he raised the tortoiseshell rim to his eye, but dropped it; force of habit was difficult to overcome.