"He is the man, according to your London correspondent," responded the
other with some show of temper. "I cannot see that the fault lies at
my door. You told me that he would enter the country under an assumed
name."
"I presume the affair is ended so far as I am concerned," I said,
shaking the lameness from my legs.
"Of course, of course!" replied the Count, pulling at his gray
mustaches, which flared out on either side like the whiskers of a cat.
"I should like to return to the city at once," I added.
"Certainly. I regret that you have been the victim of a blunder for
which some one shall suffer. Your compatriot has caused me a deal of
trouble."
"I assure you that he is in no wise connected with the present matter.
According to his latest advices he is at Vienna."
"I should be most happy to believe that," was the Count's rejoinder,
which inferred that he didn't believe it.
"My friend seems to be a dangerous person?"
"All men of brains, coupled with impudence, are dangerous; and I give
your friend credit for being as brave as he is impudent. But come, my
carriage is at your service. You are a journalist, but you will
promise not to make public this unfortunate mistake."
I acquiesced.
When the Count and I parted company I had not the vaguest idea that we
should ever hold conversation again.
The result of the adventure was, I sent a very interesting story to New
York, omitting my part in it. This done, I wired my assistant in
London not to expect me for some time yet.
The truth was, I determined to hunt for Hillars, and incidentally for
her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia.