“A precious scoundrel!” Ompertz ejaculated. “I only hope I may have a chance of getting even with him; and we have left the Princess there in his devilish hands.”
“That is what troubles me more than anything else,” Ludovic replied seriously. “I cannot understand it. Even as it is, I almost incline to doubt whether the Count was the real instigator of this outrage. It is too preposterous.”
“I had no liking for the man last night,” Ompertz observed.
“Nor had I. Still, what possible harm can we have done him that he should have conceived this vile attempt against us? To murder in cold blood.”
Their return through the valley was without further incident. As they drew near the castle, they saw the lounging figure of the Count on one of the lower terraces. He was alone, save for the company of a great wolf-hound, with which he was carelessly playing.
“Let him not see us too soon,” Ludovic said, and, keeping on the inner edge of the path, they approached the flight of terraces from the side. By this means they came upon their host somewhat suddenly, at a distance of not more than twenty paces. The dog looked round sharply with a low growl of suspicion, and his master followed the look, expectantly, it seemed, although, when he saw his two guests, he showed no sign of surprise or discomfiture. On the contrary, there was a pleasant smile on his face as he went forward to greet them.
“So, my friends! You have found your carriage, I hope, not past repair. And my men are doing for you all that may be necessary, yes?”
The man’s coolness was almost staggering. For a moment Ludovic stared at him astounded, scarcely believing such hypocrisy possible. Then he replied—
“Your men, Count Irromar, have certainly tried to do all that was necessary to prevent our ever journeying again in that carriage or any other.”
The Count looked mystified. “I do not understand you, Lieutenant.”