"And finding him near the pavilion I told him to carry my clubs," Pauline added in English. "What is strange in that?"
Sissek with a Fiat car was waiting by the pavilion. He had driven his master down and took Pauline back as well. He did not understand why the new man was carrying golf clubs. He brightened when the count spoke to him in rapid Croatian.
"I am telling him," the count said, "that there is plenty of work for you to do. He will find it if you cannot. And as Peter is very strong and as short tempered as his lord I bid you be careful."
Trent's temper was not sufficiently under control to keep a sneer from his face.
His grin was superbly insolent. He forgot his cockney accent and his acquired vocabulary.
"I'm afraid," he said, "you are not as good a judge of men as you are of women."
"What is this you say?" the count demanded frowning.
"I mean that if your fool-faced Peter there can make me do anything against my will he shall have my salary as well as his own. You came behind me when I wasn't looking and hit me. I can't resent that—yet, but warn him if he tries anything on me like that I'll—" He paused conscious of having said too much and aware that Pauline was gazing at him with vivid interest. "I'll make him sorry." Trent felt it was a weak ending.
"He is funny, this new chauffeur from London is he not Pauline?"