It seemed to Von Tressen that his host was making much more of the business than had the girl. There was a scarcely veiled sharpness in Zarka’s tone which seemed meant to sting his cousin.
“But I assure you, Count——” Von Tressen began, when Zarka interrupted him.
“Let us dismiss the subject, please,” he said almost peremptorily. “It is happily at an end.”
CHAPTER VIII
A TELL-TALE LIGHT
“I cannot make out our friend the Count,” Galabin observed, as the two walked back to their temporary home. “The whole business is a puzzle, but I must say an interesting one, and I am not sorry for having set myself to unriddle it. He is sharp and clever—unpleasantly so—but I do not think he has any idea that I am here less for sport than to keep an eye on him.”
“No,” Von Tressen agreed. “I could have kicked the fellow, though, for the bullying suggestion in the way he spoke to that girl. I fancy, by the way, one of the hardest riddles you have to solve, my friend, is whence he, lately a poor man, has got all the money of which that place gives evidence.”
“Yes; the Herr Count is interesting game to stalk, and not easy. But a slight chance may show us a way of coming close to him and getting in a shot. We must go back there to-night for a further examination of that mysterious window. You’ll come?”
“Decidedly. I shall not rest till I have found out at least that secret.”
When they got to the tent it was already dusk, and they found Von Tressen’s man Bela lamenting an over-cooked dinner. During the meal their talk was guardedly of a simpler kind of sport than they were in reality pursuing. Presently Bela, who was waiting on them, observed—
“There is another gentleman shooting in this part of the forest. Yes,” he went on, in answer to their exclamation of surprise, “he passed by here this afternoon.”