“My dear girls, I owe you I don’t know how many apologies for presuming to claim you as my friends.  The acuteness of the emergency is my only excuse, and I throw myself most contritely upon your mercy!”

This second projection of himself upon a lady’s mercy proved as successful as the first.

“Well,” said Eleanor slowly, “I guess maybe we can forgive you for that; but what I want to know is—­what’s happened?—­who’s who?—­and where just exactly are we?”

“That’s just what I want to know too,” added Eva sadly.

Indeed, they both had a hint of tears in their eyes, and in their voices.

“What has happened,” replied the Count, “is that a couple of thoughtless masqueraders came up here to play a little joke, and succeeded in getting themselves into a scrape.  For your share in getting us out of it we cannot feel too grateful.”

“But, who is——?” the girls began together, and then stopped, with a rise of color and a suspicion of displeasure in their interchange of eyes.

“Who is who?  Well, my friend is the Baron von Blitzenberg; and the lady is, as she stated, his wife.”

“Then all this time——­” began Eva.

“He was married!” Eleanor finished for her.  “Oh, the heartless scoundrel!  To think that I rescued him!”

“I wouldn’t have either!” said Eva; “I mean if—­ if I had known he treated you so badly.”

“Treated me!  I was only thinking of you, Miss Gallosh!”

“Dear ladies!” interposed the Count with his ready tact, “remember his excuse.”

“His excuse?”

“The beauty, the charm, the wit of the lady who took by storm a heart not easily captured!  He himself, poor fellow, thought it love-proof; but he had not then met her.  Think mercifully of him!”

He was so careful to give no indication which of the rival belles was “her,” that each was able to take to herself a certain mournful consolation.

“That wasn’t much excuse,” said Eleanor, yet with a less vindictive air.

“Certainly not very much,” murmured Eva.

“He ought to have thought of the pain he was giving her,” added Eleanor.

“Yes,” said Eva.  “Indeed he ought!”

“Yes, that is true,” allowed the Count; “but remember his punishment!  To be married already now proves to be less his fault than his misfortune.”

By this time he had insidiously led them back to their car.

“And must you return at once?” he exclaimed.

“We had better,” said Eleanor, with a suspicion of a sigh.  “Miss Gallosh, I’ll drive you home first.”

“You’re too kind, Miss Maddison.”

“Oh, no!”

The Count assisted them in, greatly pleased to see this amicable spirit.  Then shaking hands heartily with each, he said—­

“I can speak for my friend with conviction, because my own regard for the lady in question is as deep and as sincere as his.  Believe me, I shall never forget her!”