The latter climbed down from his seat, and without waiting for the assistance of the steward, opened the back door of the car.
"We are to go in," he announced with superb coolness. "The Count of Saint Anna is prepared to receive us."
Throwing back the rug, Tony and Molly followed him out, the latter still keeping her eyes down, and holding the prayer-book before her in a conspicuous position.
Preceded by the steward and Major Paqueta they ascended the steps, and entered a lofty hall lit by a glass dome and set around with marble pillars. Behind these were a number of tall mahogany doors leading into the various apartments. On either side of one of them, which was open, stood the two footmen in rigid immobility, and between this expressionless pair of statues their guide conducted them into a large, handsomely furnished room, where an elderly gentleman in a frock-coat was standing by a writing-table, waiting to receive them.
The Count of Saint Anna, for it was evidently their host who faced them, bowed courteously at their entrance. He was an amiable-looking old boy with gold spectacles and a long white moustache carefully waxed at the ends. From this demeanour at all events there was no hint of any hostility or suspicion towards his visitors, and Tony felt a momentary wave of relief that since her arrival in Livadia Isabel should have been in such apparently good-natured hands.
As soon as the door was closed the Count cleared his throat and commenced to speak.
"Gentlemen," he observed in very painstaking English: "I have the pleasure to make your knowledge. Major Paqueta says that you carry a letter from His Majesty the King, and that you wish to speak with me privately on a matter of much importance."
Tony bowed, and stepping forward, again produced the invaluable scrap of paper which had been returned to him by the Major. The old gentleman accepted it, and having adjusted his spectacles read it through with extreme care. The perusal could not really have occupied him more than a minute, but to three of those present it seemed to be the most prolonged and poignant minute ever extracted from the womb of time. At last, however, he looked up again, and with infinite relief they saw that the charm had worked.
"I will speak with these gentlemen in private," he said, addressing himself to Major Paqueta. "This is undoubtedly the writing of His Majesty."
It seemed from the Major's face as if he were slightly disappointed by this abrupt dismissal, but like a true disciplinarian he accepted the situation without remonstrance. Bowing again stiffly, he wheeled round and marched to the door and the next moment the four of them were alone.