“Yes. I would leave to-morrow at nine, and catch the Orient express from Calais for Belgrade, but I have business to do in Paris to-morrow.”
“Ah! Belgrade!” sighed the girl. “I wonder if I shall ever see it again? Long ago I used to be so fond of it, and we had so very many good friends. Dear old dad is so popular. Why, when we drove out the people in their brown homespun clothes used to run after the carriage and cheer ‘Petrovitch the Patriot,’ as they call dad.”
“Of course you will return soon,” Charlie said. “No doubt your father will be induced to enter the new Pashitch Cabinet.”
The girl shook her head dubiously.
“I know the King has several times asked him to return to Servia, but for some mysterious reason he has always declined.”
“But he is the most popular man in the country, and he cannot remain away much longer. It is his duty to return and assist in the Government.”
“Yes. But my mother died in Belgrade, you know, and I think that may be the reason he does not care to return,” replied the girl. “Why are you going there?” she asked.
“On a mission for Statham—regarding a mining concession,” he answered. “You know we have a lot of interests out there. Perhaps I shall be away only a week or two—perhaps six months.”
“Six months!” she cried in a blank voice. “It is such a long, long time to look forward to.”
“I have no desire to leave you, my own darling,” he declared, looking straight into her beautiful face. “But the mission is confidential, and for that reason I have received orders to go.”