“Oh, we shall have to prove that the count is not really in love with Mademoiselle Warren,” answered the countess, pinching Mollie’s cheek. She was entering into their little game with a curious zest.
“Or you might prove that he is not a count,” interposed Madame de Villiers, with an inscrutable expression on her grim old face.
“Do you believe that he is an impostor, Madame de Villiers?” inquired Miss Sallie.
For a brief instant the countess’s eyes met those of Madame de Villiers.
The old lady shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows in answer to Miss Sallie’s question: “The world is so full of impostors, and Europe so full of counts,” she said.
The countess blushed hotly. There was an awkward silence.
Miss Sallie was sorry she had spoken. But why should such an idle question cause annoyance? The young count was surely a stranger to her two hostesses. There was nothing to indicate that the young man was in earnest about Maud Warren. He had simply paid her casual attentions for the past few days.
“Shall you and I become members of this secret society, Madame de Villiers?” inquired Miss Stuart, to divert the conversation. “I suppose we had better be content with the posts of confidential agents. Because I assure you there is no limit to what this society may do.”
“And I should prefer to be scout, guardsman, or messenger,” agreed Mr. Stuart. “I, too, shrink from being an active member of such a vigorous organization.”
“Then let us leave these faithless people behind, girls,” proposed the young countess. “Let us run away to the old boathouse and plan our campaign. We are not sure that we may safely confide to you our secret signals, our hand clasps and our code,” she protested to the older people.