“Don’t go away,” he insisted; “stay with me a little longer.”
She sat down across the desk from him.
“I almost forgot what I came for,” she said. “Do you know they have come?—the flag went up a little while ago.”
He nodded. “Yes, I know—a whole train load and half the Household:—the Regent, the American, Moore, Bernheim, De Coursey, Marsov, the scheming Courtney, damn him, and a lot of women, including, of course, the Radnor girl. For a pursuit with deadly intent, it’s the most amazing in the annals of war. Under all the rules, the American and a few tried swords should have stolen into Dalberg Castle, with every precaution against our knowing they had come; instead, they arrive with the ostentation of a royal progress, and fling out the Golden Lion from the highest tower.”
“What are you going to do first?” she asked.
“Nothing—it’s their move. They have come for the Book, and they must seek it here.”
She was idly snapping the scissors through a sheet of paper and simply smiled her answer.
“Give me a cigarette, dear,” she said, after a pause, “I’ve left mine in my room.”
He searched his pockets for his case; then tumbled the papers on the desk, she aiding and very careful to leave exposed the portfolio that contained the blotter.
“Oh, there it is,” she exclaimed, “on the table, yonder;” and when he went for it she drew out the blotter and feigned to be examining it.