“No, a civilian. His name is Horaz Galabin. He is one of the secretaries in the Chancellor’s Bureau.”
He spoke quite carelessly, as though his friend’s identity were scarcely a matter to interest his companion, and he was surprised to notice a rather anxious look on her face.
“What in the world,” she asked—and he could not help thinking her voice rather betrayed an unsuccessful attempt at indifference—“is a secretary of the Chancellerie doing out in these uncivilized parts?”
“He comes for sport, he tells me.”
“Ah! And you both by lucky chance find a companion.” She had regained her self-possession now. “Come! Here is another reason why you need not regret that mistaken shot. If you had not ridden into town for the doctor you would not have met your friend.”
A chance which he had been hoping for had presented itself, and he seized it.
“If I had taken the Count’s horse,” he said with a reminiscent laugh, “I should have got to Kulhausen sooner, and thereby should have probably missed Galabin.”
“No doubt,” she agreed. “I am glad you did not take it.”
“Not for that reason alone, Fräulein?”
For a moment her eyes rested on him searchingly as though to determine whether she might trust him. Evidently the result of the scrutiny was favourable, for she answered: