“You know the lady’s name?” The question was flashed out quickly, fiercely, only to be blunted against the shield of Zarka’s inscrutable smile.
“Not with any degree of certainty that would justify my mentioning it,” was the guarded answer.
For a few steps they went on in silence. Then D’Alquen resumed.
“I am aware there was a lady in the case. But that does not disprove a political influence behind the lady.”
Zarka deemed it enough to give a deprecating shrug.
“I mean,” the other went on, as though irritated by his companion’s non-committal manner, “she may have been used as a decoy.”
“I am not,” Zarka said coolly, “in a position to contradict you, beyond saying that your theory seems to me in the highest degree improbable. After all,” here the teeth showed in an ugly grin of deprecation, “after all we can but theorize, and theorizing is unprofitable unless we have a practical object in view.”
“I quite agree with you there, Count,” D’Alquen returned, with a touch of curt significance.
As he spoke—something—a slight action of Zarka’s—made him suddenly halt and look round quickly. As he did so the Count altered the position of his gun, but not before D’Alquen had seen that the muzzle had been held a few inches from his head. After that significant discovery D’Alquen never let his eyes wander from his companion, although he betrayed, and probably felt, no sign of fear. Whether Zarka noticed the sharp observation under which he was kept it was impossible to tell from his manner, but he was assuredly too acute and watchful to be unaware of it.
Presently their ascending course brought them to a wild and rocky opening in the forest. Zarka, pointing in front of them, directed his companion’s attention to a magnificent view of the glittering, undulating range of the mountain’s tops. But D’Alquen was too wary to be caught by what, to his suspicious mood, seemed a trick. Before looking in the indicated direction he stepped back, thus bringing Zarka in front of him, and still under his eye. “Yes,” he agreed with a grim laugh, hardly called up by the scenery; “it is magnificent.”