Bernheim was wise. He always seemed to know when to quit.
"Very good, sir," he said. "How soon do we start?"
I put my hand on his shoulder.
"You are a perfect treasure, Bernheim," I said. "Come, we will start at once. Is your horse good for a fast ride back?"
"Entirely, sir."
"Then you can give me the story on the way," I said. "Meanwhile, get some refreshment."
I went back to the table—and it was amusing how suddenly the conversation ceased and everyone looked at me. I smiled reassuringly at Dehra, for there was concern in her eyes.
"Four of you," said I—"you, Princess; and you, Lady Helen; and you, Courtney; and you, Moore, were present at—and you, Mademoiselle d'Essoldé, have heard of—a certain supper party on the Hanging Garden, some weeks back, whereat a certain woman proclaimed herself my wife. That was the first act in a play which has been progressing ever since. The plot has thickened lately—as witness the duel at the Masque, last night. And now, unless I greatly err, the last act is set for this evening. If you care to see it I shall be glad for your company."—Then I laughed. "A long speech," said I; "but it sounded well."
"And promises best of all," said Courtney.
Then I ordered the horses; and, while we waited, I gave the letters to Courtney.