He swiftly debated how best to gratify the lady. Last night it had been his own counsel, and likewise the Baron's desire, to leave by the night mail that very evening, with their laurels still unfaded and blessings heaped upon their heads. Why not make his next stage The Lash?
“Hang it, the Baron has had such a good innings that he can scarcely grudge me a short knock,” he said to himself. “He can wait for me at Perth or somewhere.”
And, ringing the bell, he wrote and promptly despatched this brief telegram:
“Delighted. Shall spend to-night in passing. Bunker.”
Hardly was this point settled when the footman re-entered to inform him that Mr. Maddison's motor car was at the door waiting to convey him without delay to Lincoln Lodge. Accompanying this announcement came the Silver King's card bearing the words, “Please come and see me at once.”
The Count stroked his chin, and lit a cigarette.
“There is something fresh in the wind,” thought he.
In the course of his forty-miles-an-hour rush through the odors of pine woods, he had time to come to a pretty correct conclusion regarding the business before him, and was thus enabled to adopt the mien most suitable to the contingency when he found himself ushered into the presence of the millionaire and his son. The set look upon their faces, the ceremonious manner of their greeting, and the low buzzing of the phonograph, audible above the tinkle of a musical box ingeniously intended to drown it, confirmed his guess even before a word had passed.
“Be seated, Count,” said the Silver King; and the Count sat.
“Now, sir,” he continued, “I have sent for you, owing, sir, to the high opinion I have formed of your intelligence and business capabilities.”
“Yes, sir, I believe, and my son believes, you to be a white man, even though you are a Count.”
“Now, sir, you must be aware--in fact, you ARE aware--of the matrimonial project once entertained between my daughter and Lord Tulliwuddle.”
“Hish, Ri! Let your poppa do the talking this time,” said the millionaire sternly, though with an indulgent eye.
“But--er--ONCE?” repeated the Count, as if bewildered by the past tense implied; though to himself he murmured--“I knew it!”
“When I gave my sanction to Lord Tulliwuddle's proposition, I did so under the impression that I was doing a deal with a man, sir, of integrity and honor. But what do I find?”