“What? You surely haven’t run afoul of the War Department?” Rebener rolled his eyes. “That sounds more like our friends, the barbarians, than Englishmen. But, say, you are joking of course; you’re not really in trouble? Seriously is there anything you want me to do for you? I have quite a little pull over at the War Offices, you know.”
“No, thank you; I am leaving for Paris tomorrow.” He looked straight into Rebener’s eyes, without giving the slightest hint in his expression of the disclosure which had been made to him by the unfortunate Smith. “It is simply that Captain Bright thinks there are some people who might do something to me. I don’t know exactly what it is, but he insists on preventing them anyhow; so there you are. How about it, Captain? Am I permitted to dine with Mr. Rebener at the Britz? I think the Britz is a perfectly safe place for two American business men.”
“As you please, Mr. Edestone.” The Captain drew himself up. “My orders are to escort you, though, wherever you go.” He raised his hand toward a sergeant who was standing just inside the door.
“What! You are not going to take all the ‘Tommies’ along too?” expostulated Rebener. “Oh, I say; you come along yourself, Captain, and dine with us, but leave the men behind. I will see that Edestone doesn’t come to any grief.”
“Sorry.” The officer’s tone ended any further argument. “I shall keep my men as much out of sight as possible; but it will be necessary for them to accompany us.”
“You see.” Edestone smiled somewhat ruefully. “I can’t even go out to buy a paper, without turning it into a sort of Fourth of July parade.”
On going to the door they found that one of the royal carriages was waiting for them, and after the two men were seated, and the Captain had given the directions to the coachman, they dashed off in the midst of a cavalcade.
“By the way,” Rebener vouchsafed as they drove along, “I have taken the liberty of inviting Lord Denton and Mr. Karlbeck, two friends of mine, to dine with us tonight, and as Lord Denton is in mourning, he has asked that I have dinner in my apartment. I hope that is all right?”
“Certainly,” assented Edestone. “Lord Denton, you say? I don’t think I have ever met him, have I? And isn’t he just a little supersensitive to raise a scruple of that sort? It seems to me that practically everybody over here is in mourning. Fact is, I don’t feel like going to a ball myself.” His face saddened, as he thought of the many good fellows he had met on former visits to London who now lay underneath the sod of Northern France and Belgium.
But by this time they were at the Britz and the proprietor was bowing them inside, apparently so accustomed to receiving men of distinction with military escort that he did not even notice the lines of trim cavalrymen which drew themselves up on either side of his entrance.