“Just so,” Zarka replied, in a tone which showed he hardly accepted the suggestion. “Did he tell you his name?”
“He called himself D’Alquen.”
“D’Alquen?” The Count was evidently fixing it in his memory. “Perhaps if I have the pleasure of meeting Herr D’Alquen I may be able to satisfy his curiosity on my own account.”
That there was an ugly threat behind his words both his hearers agreed.
“I wonder,” Von Tressen laughed, when their visitor had departed, “what he would think of our somewhat practical curiosity if he knew of it?”
Galabin smiled grimly. “There would probably be two vacancies forthwith in his Majesty’s service, one in the civil department and one in the military. The forest over which our gallant Count rules as Obergespan would make an admirable oubliette: no trace of either of us would be seen again.”
Zarka rode on to the farm, and with the luck of which he often boasted met Philippa at a little distance from the house. Perhaps the smile with which he received her rather blank greeting was occasioned by the idea that she was probably going out to avoid his visit.
“I do not want to worry your father,” he said, “but I have a piece of bad news for you.”
With her insight into the man’s character, a thrill of apprehension ran through her at the words. True or not, she felt this was his first move in the game against her, and if the bad news had its origin in him alone, it was none the less to be dreaded.
“What is it?” she asked, striving bravely to show no sign of alarm.