She, too, raised her mask and looked me frankly in the eyes.

“I promise,” she said.

And I am sure she will keep her word.

I knew I could leave it to Courtney and Moore to insure the silence of
Lady Helen and Mademoiselle d’Essolde.

We lingered at the table until far into the morning.  And, if Moore had any fault to find with his neighbor in blue, he was, indeed, a graceless grumbler.

Lady Helen was on one side of me, and we recalled the ride we had together the morning shortly after the Birthday Ball, when we met the Princess at the Old Forge.

“We never took that other ride we planned,” I said—­“the one to the Inn of the Twisted Pines.”

“You have never asked me,” she said dryly.

“Suppose we make it to-morrow at three,” I suggested.

“I ride with Mr. Courtney, then.”

“We will make a party of it,” said I.  “The Princess returns this morning and we will add Mademoiselle d’Essolde and Colonel Moore.”

“But, the chaperon!”

“Hang the chaperon—­the grooms can suffice for that.  Besides, we shall be back before dark.”

“It will be jolly,” she said.  Then she gave me a shrewd smile.  “But, how different from the ride as we planned it.”

I looked at Courtney.

“He wasn’t in it; was he?” I smiled.

She leaned a bit nearer.  “Nor would you have assumed, then, to make engagements for the Princess Royal of Valeria without consulting her,” she replied.

I laughed.  And I did not deny her inference.

When Moore saluted and turned to leave me that night, I stopped him.

“Colonel,” said I, “I trust you enjoyed the supper.”

“It was the most delightful I have ever—­heard,” he said.

XXIII

AT THE INN OF THE TWISTED PINES

I lunched with the King and the Princess Dehra as arranged.  Frederick left before the coffee, and Dehra ordered it served in her library.  When the footman had brought it she dismissed him.

“Now,” said she, “come and tell me all about yourself.”

I went over and sat on the arm of her chair.  She lit a cigarette and put it between my lips—­then, lit one for herself.

“Do you remember the first time you did that?” I asked.

“Yes,” said she, “it was the night you flirted so outrageously with me in front of Lotzen.”

“I don’t care what you call it, since we are not flirting now,” said I.

She took my hand between hers and smiled up at me.

“And, maybe, it was not all flirting, then,” she said.

There are certain occasions which justify certain actions.  I thought this was one.

Then I said:  “Tell me about Lotzen’s visit with you in the North.”

“He was there a week.”

“More’s the pity,” said I.