"Beg the Frau Gräfin's pardon," I mumbled out in the thick patois of the Rhine which I had learnt at Bonn, "I served with the Herr Graf in Galicia, and I thought maybe the Frau Gräfin ..."
She stopped me with a gesture.
"Herr Doktor!" she called to the dinner-table.
By Jove! this girl had grit: her pluck was splendid.
Clubfoot came stumping over, all smiles after his food and smoking a long cigar that smelt delicious.
"Frau Gräfin?" he queried, glancing at me.
"This is a man who served under my husband in Galicia. He is ill and out of work, and wishes me to help him. I should wish, therefore, to see him in my sitting-room, if you will allow me...."
"But, Frau Gräfin, most certainly. There surely was no need ..."
"Johann!" Monica called the servant I had seen before, "take this man into the sitting-room!"
The servant led the way across the hall into a snugly furnished library with a dainty writing-desk and pretty chintz curtains. Monica followed and sat down at the desk.