“’ave no fear.” She rose, smiling. “That is settle’, then. I will call ’er.”
The situation was explained to Marie Lou; Valeria Petrovna was now all solicitude for the girl. Richard himself urged upon her how little either of them could do, and how much wiser it would be for her to leave Russia at the earliest possible moment.
She looked from one to the other with her big serious eyes. She had no argument to oppose theirs, but somehow she did not trust this beautiful Madame Karkoff. It never occurred to her that she could be regarded as a rival. She did not understand in the least the passionate temperament that was responsible for these sudden changes for imperious anger to honeyed sweetness, and then to suspicious distrust. Had it not been for Richard she would have refused to go, but he was so obviously sincere that she accepted the decision, contenting herself with reminding them that there might be difficulties at the airport, as she had no permit to leave Russia.
“I will arrange,” declared Valeria Petrovna quickly. “The commander of the airport, ’e is a frien’ of mine. We shall say that you are my little cousin, Xenia Kirrolovna from Niji. You travel to your mother, ’oo is ill in Berlin. Your bag ’as been stolen — all your papers are gone — it is urgent, for the mother dies. The Englishman ’as offer’ to take you in ’is ’plane. They will make no difficulty eef I come with you.”
Richard nodded. “That sounds all right, if you can arrange it. When do we leave, tomorrow morning?”
“No, no, at once — this afternoon. You shall eat ’ere. In the meantime I get my clothes.” She clapped her hands loudly and the maid appeared.
“Quickly, Fenya,” she ordered. “Bring food, and tell Vasily to bring the car to the door. After, come to me in my room.”
Marie Lou and Richard made a scratch lunch of ham, cheese and tea. By the time they had finished Valeria Petrovna joined them again, dressed in a smart travelling suit.
“Let us go,” she said at once. “Mistaire Eaton, we will call on the way at the ’otel for your bags. You, little one, ’ave no luggage.”
As they stood at the door of the apartment she turned to the maid. “I go to the airport, Fenya, after to the Kremlin, then I return ’ere in one ’our, perhaps two. Pack at once, that all may be ready — on my return we leave for Kiev immediately.”