“You have not explained yourself, sir,” said Jerome in a cold disgust. “I know nothing of these plans formed behind my back. I only know that the plot I had in hand has fallen through—and that every man engaged in it is better beyond seas.”
Berwick laughed.
“This is none of your labored schemes for landing the French, Caryl—it is a neat little affair between me—these gentlemen and Breadalbane.”
The Countess glanced up at her husband’s name and looked quickly at Caryl as he answered:
“You still speak in riddles, your grace.”
“La! ain’t you tiresome? Don’t you remember the Grandval affair?”
“My God! Is this such another?”
“No—it ain’t so clumsy—Grandval was a damned crazy foreigner who bungled the job—”
“But your intentions, your grace, are the same.”
“I tell you—we ain’t going to bungle!”