“Yes. I am tired with my long walk. I bid you good-evening, Count.” And she left them.
The two men did not speak till she was out of earshot. Then Harlberg remarked:
“It might have been an awkward contretemps, Count. As it is, I used to know this young fellow’s father. He was a cavalryman.”
Zarka gave a shrug. “It is nothing. The Lieutenant is of no account and an unsuspecting”—soldier, he was going to say, but substituted—“young swaggerer. I shall keep my eye on him. I gather that he is camping in the forest alone.”
“I hope he likes it,” Harlberg said wearily. “I find it dull enough.”
The Count laughed unsympathetically. “You miss the Königstrasse, my friend. Patience! It will not be for long. The grass will soon have grown over this excitement.”
“You have heard no news?”
“None. Except that the search is active. Naturally. A prince is a prince even though he be a fool, and cannot be allowed to disappear like a rag-picker. Well, good-evening, General——”
“Hush!” Harlberg held up a silencing hand.
“Oh, it is all safe here,” Zarka laughed in his masterful fashion. “There is no one to overhear us. You may trust me not to make a slip at the wrong time. I shall see you to-morrow, and, I hope, Fräulein Philippa.”