“You are not always artistic in your untruths,” interrupted Etta. “I know nothing of the incident to which you refer, but in lying you should always endeavor to be consistent. I am sure Paul was not nervous—or flurried.”
De Chauxville smiled imperturbably. His end was gained. Etta obviously knew nothing of his attempt to murder Paul at the bear-hunt.
“It was nothing,” he went on; “we did not come to words. But we have never been much in sympathy; the coldness is intensified, that is all. So I took the opportunity of calling when I knew he was away.”
“How did you know he was away?”
“Ah, madame, I know more than I am credited with.”
Etta gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders.
“You do not care for Osterno?” suggested De Chauxville.
“I hate it!”
“Precisely. And I am here to help you to get away from Russia once for all. Ah! you may shake your head. Some day, perhaps, I shall succeed in convincing you that I have only your interests at heart. I am here, princess, to make a little arrangement with you—a final arrangement, I hope.”
He paused, looking at her with a sudden gleam in his eyes.