“My lord,” said Mr. Gallosh, approaching them, “would you be thinking of going soon? I've noticed Mr. Maddison's been taking out his watch verra frequently.”
“Certainly, certainly!” cried my lord. “Oh, ve have finished all ve have come for.”
Eva started, and even Mr. Gallosh looked a trifle perturbed.
“Yes,” added the Count quickly, “we have a very good idea of the heating system employed. I quite agree with you: we can leave the rest to your engineer.”
But even his readiness failed to efface the effects of his friend's unfortunate admission.
Farewells were said, the procession reformed, the pipers struck up, and amidst the heartiest expressions of pleasure from all, the chieftain and his friends marched off to the spot where (out of sight of Lincoln Lodge) the forethought of their manager had arranged that the carriages should be waiting.
“Well,” said Bunker, when they found themselves in their room again, “what do you think of Miss Maddison?”
The Baron lit a cigar, gazed thoughtfully and with evident satisfaction at the daily deepening shade of tan upon his knees, and then answered slowly--
“Bot, Bonker, it is not vat I do think of her. Ach, no! It is not for mein own pleasure. Ach, nein! How shall I do my duty to Tollyvoddle? Zat is vat I ask myself.”
“And what answer do you generally return?”
“Ze answer I make is,” said the Baron gravely and with the deliberation the point deserved--“Ze answer is zat I shall vait and gonsider vich lady is ze best for him.”
“The means you employ will no doubt include a further short personal interview with each of them?”
“Vun short! Ach, Bonker, I most investigate mit carefulness. No, no; I most see zem more zan zat.”
“How long do you expect the process will take you?”
For the first time the Baron noticed with surprise a shade of impatience in his friend's voice.
“My dear Baron, I grudge no man his sport--particularly if he is careful to label it his duty. But, to tell the truth, I have never played gamekeeper for so long before, and I begin to find that picking up your victims and carrying them after you in a bag is less exhilarating to-day than it was a week ago. I wouldn't curtail your pleasure for the world, my dear fellow! But I do ask you to remember the poor keeper.”