“Is that you, Steinmetz?” asked Paul, his hand thrust with suspicious speed into his jacket pocket.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Watching you,” answered Karl Steinmetz, in his mild way. “It is no longer safe for either of us to go about alone. It was mere foolery your going to that kabak.”
CHAPTER XXXVI — @ TROIS
Of all the rooms in the great castle Etta liked the morning-room best. Persons of a troubled mind usually love to look upon a wide prospect. The mind, no doubt, fears the unseen approach of detection or danger, and transmits this dread to the eye, which likes to command a wide view all around.
The great drawing-room was only used after dinner. Until that time the ladies spent the day either in their own boudoirs or in the morning-room looking over the cliff. Here, while the cold weather lasted, Etta had tea served, and thither the gentlemen usually repaired at the hour set apart for the homely meal. They had come regularly the last few evenings. Paul and Steinmetz had suddenly given up their long drives to distant parts of the estate.
Here the whole party was assembled on the Sunday afternoon following Paul’s visit to the village kabak, and to them came an unexpected guest. The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville, pale, but self-possessed and quiet, came into the room. The perfect ease of his manner bespoke a practised familiarity with the position difficult. His last parting with Paul and Steinmetz had been, to say the least of it, strained. Maggie, he knew, disliked and distrusted him. Etta hated and feared him.