“This must be the Alarian frontier,” John said. “There’s always something at the end of a road. Shall we go through?”
“Why not?” I said. “We’re here, and we can get back to Helena’s across the mountains. There’s a rather famous Pass. Handsome scenery.”
“There are no shortcuts to beauty,” he proclaimed, grinning. “The farther we go the better it gets. Where’s your passport?”
The inspector peered into the tonneau of our car, and seemed pained by the number of tightly strapped pieces he saw there. He gratefully accepted a pair of cigars from me, and then dutifully read our names with a thick accent, so that John became _Yohn Coltaire_, and I _Marr-s-hall Carrr-veen_. Our likenesses puzzled him a little. He stared from them to us several times before he decided that they were, after all, passable. He then waved us through the barrier, and we came, a hundred yards or so farther on, to a second barrier, where the performance was repeated, in the same order, as though rehearsed, like a comic opera chorus. The only difference was the uniform of the examiners. We were then given gracious permission to enter the realm of King Bela of Alaria.
“Chap I know,” John said, “went all through here last year and wrote a book about it. He said the roads were fine and the food and wines even better, if you like garlic and mutton. And he’s never tired of raving about the people. Maybe we’d better stop and do some painting.”
“You don’t have to go to Waldek,” I said. “If you’re seeking refuge in working I can go there by train alone.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “Of course I want to go to Waldek. Those mountains make me feel as though they ought to be set down on canvas.”
“Work’s pretty fascinating,” I agreed, “if you’re not doing any.”
“That’s not true,” John objected. “I’m not doing any, and don’t want to, but once I start I like it. You’ll see when we get to Waldek.”
“The mountains are there, too,” I promised him.
“I know,” he answered. “And I’ve never visited a Countess in a mediæval castle. I’m expecting a couple of ghosts and a bookful of legends, to say nothing of all the neighbors in for Kaffee Klatsch, and the feudal retainers in costume.”
“I hope so,” I said. “I feel a bit doubtful myself. I’ve never been to Waldek, and it’s eight years since I’ve seen Helena.”