“Off you go, Juan,” she said; “your visitors would like to see the garden, no doubt. I must be away for my afternoon siesta. Come, my dear”—to the girl—“smoke one little cigarette with me, then I will let you go.”
She retired, wheeling herself rapidly out of the room, and my glance lingered upon the graceful figure of Val Beverley until both she and Madame were out of sight.
“Now, gentlemen,” said the Colonel, resuming his seat and pushing the decanter toward Paul Harley, “I am at your service either for business or amusement. I think”—to Harley—“you expressed a desire to see the tower?”
“I did,” my friend replied, lighting his cigar, “but only if it would amuse you to show me.”
“Decidedly. Mr. Knox will join us?”
Harley, unseen by the Colonel, glanced at me in a way which I knew.
“Thanks all the same,” I said, smiling, “but following a perfect luncheon I should much prefer to loll upon the lawn, if you don’t mind.”
“But certainly I do not mind,” cried the Colonel. “I wish you to be happy.”
“Join you in a few minutes, Knox,” said Harley as he went out with our host.
“All right,” I replied, “I should like to take a stroll around the gardens. You will join me there later, no doubt.”