together, nor was the
talk without sub-flavor of acidity. At length the centre of attention
himself diverted that attention. He inaugurated an argument over the
best cross-country route from Osterno to Thors, which sent Steinmetz out
of the room for a map. During the absence of the watchful German he
admired the view from the window, and this strategetic movement enabled
him to say to Etta aside:

"I must see you before I leave the house; it is absolutely necessary."

Not long after the return of Steinmetz and the final decision respecting
the road to Thors, Etta left the room, and a few minutes later the
servant announced that the baron's horse was at the door.

De Chauxville took his leave at once, with many assurances of lasting
gratitude.

"Kindly," he added, "make my adieux to the princess; I will not trouble
her."

Quite by accident he met Etta at the head of the state staircase, and
expressed such admiration for the castle that she opened the door of the
large drawing-room and took him to see that apartment.

"What I arranged for Thursday is for the day after to-morrow--Tuesday,"
said De Chauxville, as soon as they were alone. "We cannot keep them
back any longer. You understand--the side door to be opened at seven
o'clock. Ah! who is this?"

They both turned. Steinmetz was standing behind them, but he could not
have heard De Chauxville's words. He closed the door carefully, and came
forward with his grim smile.

"A nous trois!" he said, and the subsequent conversation was in the
language in which these three understood each other best.

De Chauxville bit his lip and waited. It was a moment of the tensest
suspense.

"A nous trois!" repeated Steinmetz. "De Chauxville, you love an epigram.
The man who overestimates the foolishness of others is himself the
biggest fool concerned. A lame horse--the prince's generosity--making
your adieux. Mon Dieu! you should know me better than that after all
these years. No, you need not look at the door. No one will interrupt
us. I have seen to that."

His attitude and manner indicated a complete mastery of the situation,
but whether this assumption was justified by fact or was a mere trick it
was impossible to say. There was in the man something strong and good
and calm--a manner never acquired by one who has anything to conceal.
His dignity was perfect. One forgot his stoutness, his heavy breathing,
his ungainly size. He was essentially manly, and a presence to be