"No," was the brief reply.
For the remainder of the drive conversation died. The two men sat mutely
opposite each other as the carriage jolted over the cobble-stoned
streets, until the driver turned into the castle gates.
Then Von Ritz again leaned forward.
"Mr. Benton," he explained, "it happens that this evening a ball is
being given at the Palace for the members of the Diplomatic Corps. His
Majesty, supposing that you would desire a quiet reception, instructed
me to take you to the gardens of his private suite where he will shortly
join you; unless," added Von Ritz courteously, "you prefer the
Throne-room and dancing salles?"
Benton's reply was prompt.
"I believe I am to see the Count Pagratide," he answered. "I am grateful
to the Count for arranging that I might be secluded."
Blanco had gone into some detail in describing the chamber where he had
met the King, and later the Queen. Benton now recognized the place to
which he was conducted, from that description. As before, the room was
empty and the portières of the wide windows were partly drawn. Through
the opening he could see the small area perching on a space redeemed
from the solid rock. Dark masses against the sky marked the palms of the
garden, and through the window drifted the splashing of a fountain
mingled with the distant strains of the same Viennese waltz that the
hotel band had been playing. That year you might have heard it from the
Golden Gate to Suez and back again from Suez to the Golden Gate.