“You don’t expect trouble, do you? I mean a general European free-for-all fight?”
“I don’t know, Jim.”
“Haven’t you,” he asked blandly, “any means of acquiring inside information?”
She did not even pretend to evade the good-humoured malice of his smile and question:
“Yes; I have sources of private information. I have learned nothing, so far.”
He looked at Rue, but the smile had faded from her face and she returned his questioning gaze gravely.
“There is great anxiety in Europe,” she said in a low voice, “and the tension is increasing. When we arrive home we shall have a chance to converse more freely.” She made the slightest gesture with her head toward the chauffeur—a silent reminder and a caution.
The Princess nodded slightly:
“One never knows,” she remarked. “We shall have much to say to one another when we are safely home.”
But Neeland could not take it very seriously here in the sunshine, with two pretty women facing him—here speeding up the Champs Elysées between the endless green of chestnut trees and the exquisite silvery-grey façades of the wealthy—with motors flashing by on every side and the cool, leafy alleys thronged with children and nurse-maids, and Monsieur Guignol squeaking and drumming in his red-curtained box! 288