“If you mean a roundabout way, my child, why not say so? Don’t you see that Hicks evidently expects us to be watched? I daren’t leave that paper lying about, or even tear it up. Now will you keep your eyes open this afternoon, and express innocent wonder if you see a long scraggy fellow, with a thin grey beard, taking snap-shots? That’ll give us an opportunity to get into conversation.”
Helene promised to be on the watch, and very soon after they reached the station she pulled Usk’s sleeve. “Do look at that gentleman taking photographs,” she said, with admirable innocence. “It must be so interesting to be able to do it! All these quaint costumes——”
“They’re nothing to what you’ll see in the Balkans,” said Usk. “What a pity we didn’t think of bringing a kodak. But we might send for one, of course. Would you mind allowing my wife to see how your camera works?” he asked of the photographer, who had been listening with a twinkle in his eye while pretending to focus an Albanian group on the opposite platform.
“Why, certainly,” was the hearty response. “You hold it this way, and you put your eye here—— But if we move away a step or so, we won’t be so crowded. I have a whole-souled admiration for your manner of meeting me, sir,” added Mr Hicks, in a lower tone, as he exhibited the camera and appeared to be describing its mechanism. “And this is the little Princess?”
“No,” said Helene. “It is Lady Usk.”
“Is that so?” asked Mr Hicks slowly, manipulating a screw. “Well, I incline to think Lord Usk has struck ile.”
“I don’t know English quite well yet,” said Helene apologetically.
“I guess your husband has found the pay-streak, then.”
“I’m afraid there must be a great many words I don’t know. I must look them out.”
“Mr Hicks wants me to understand that I’ve married a treasure, Lenchen. Does that satisfy you? Well, Hicks, what’s the plan of campaign?”