“Surely!” she laughed, “The rare game you flushed and hit. The mysterious lady who has taken up her abode at the old farmhouse.”
“Ah, yes. That was an unfortunate mistake of mine.”
“Tell me of this Fräulein Harlberg,” she said quickly. “I have never seen her.”
“I have only seen her twice,” he replied, “and know nothing about her except that she is staying there with her father.”
“For what reason?”
“For sport, I understood. But I am sure the Count could tell you far more about them than I.”
“Aubray?” She nodded at Zarka. “He is there often? He knows them very well?”
“I think so,” Von Tressen answered. “He seemed the other day on quite familiar terms with them. I imagined they were old friends.”
He was a simple, straight-forward fellow, Von Tressen, and innocently saw nothing beyond curiosity in his companion’s questions. Perhaps, though, had he looked in her face during his last words he might have realized that there was something more serious in those almost breathless inquiries.
“This Fräulein Harlberg,” she went on; “is she very handsome?”