"Good morning!" Her face lit up with a smile; she extended her hand, and he seized it as a fish swallows a bait. He blushed redly.
"I'm late," he stammered. "I mean I—I hurried right in to tell you—"
"So they didn't hang you?"
"No! You were wonderful! I couldn't rest until I had told you how deeply grateful—"
"Nonsense!" The Countess shrugged her shoulders. "I'm glad you came before I left."
"You're not—going away?" he queried, with frank apprehension.
"In ten minutes."
"See here!" It was the hotel proprietor who addressed the woman. "You can't possibly make it before snow flies, and the boats are overloaded coming north; they can't handle the freight they've got."
"I'll be back in three weeks," the Countess asserted, positively. "I'll bring my own pack-train. If something should delay me, I'll open up here and put you out of business. This town will be good for a year or two."
"You can't threaten me," the fellow blustered. "Twenty thousand is my price."