"Do you think it will be successful?" she asked eagerly.
"I don't know, but we may find out easily enough."
"How?"
Millar took a turn up and down the room, his up-slanting eyebrows drawn together in deep thought.
"This afternoon he tried to shoot me when I told him I would make you fall in love with me," he said, stopping in front of Olga. "That means love. Don't speak to me of respect or regard, my dear lady. They fire off cannons in salute out of respect, but when they draw pistols, that means love. Now, you think Karl loves this little girl. Suppose we find out who is right. We will make Karl tell us himself."
Olga turned away with a gesture of dissent, but Millar went on insinuatingly:
"Of course, I understand it interests you only because you planned this marriage, and after all it is only right that you should feel a certain amount of pride in the success of your plans. Is it not so?"
"Yes, that is true."
"Very well, then; Karl shall tell us which was real—his attempt to murder me or this little affair with Elsa."
"But how—you don't mean to ask Karl?" Olga asked in bewilderment. "You are not going to listen at key-holes?"