With an effort, Carroll recovered his self-control.
“Mr. Raimonda,” he said courteously, “I give you my word that there will be no trouble between Herr Von Plaanden and myself, of my seeking, until Mr. and Miss Brewster are safely out of the country.”
“That’s enough,” said Cluff heartily. “The rest of us can take care of ourselves.”
“Meantime,” said Raimonda, “I think the whole matter can be arranged. Von Plaanden shall apologize to Miss Brewster to-morrow. It is not his first outbreak, and always he regrets. My uncle, who is of the Foreign Office, will see to it.”
“Then that’s settled,” remarked Perkins cheerfully.
Carroll turned upon him savagely:—
“To your entire satisfaction, no doubt, now that you’ve shown yourself an informer as well as—”
“Easy with the rough stuff, Mr. Carroll,” advised Cluff, his good-natured face clouding. “We’re all a little het up. Let’s have a drink, and cool down.”
“With you, with pleasure. I shall hope to meet you later, Mr. Perkins,” he added significantly.
“Well, I hope not,” retorted the other. “My voice is still for peace. Meantime, please assure Miss Brewster for me—”