Part 71 (1/2)

TOGETHER

He sat there, holding the letter and looking absently over it at the little dog who had gone to sleep again. There was no sound in the room save the faint whisper of the tea-kettle. The sunny garden outside was very still, too; the blackbird appeared to doze on his peach twig; the kitten had settled down with eyes half closed and tail tucked under flank.

The young man sat there with his letter in his hand and eyes lost in retrospection for a while.

In his hand lay evidence that the gang which had followed him, and through which he no longer doubted that he had been robbed, was now in Paris.

And yet he could not give this information to the Princess Naa. Here was a letter which he could not show. Something within him forbade it, some instinct which he did not trouble to a.n.a.lyse.

And this instinct sent the letter into his breast pocket as a light sound came to his ears; and the next instant Rue Carew entered the further drawing-room.

The little West Highland terrier looked up, wagged that section of him which did duty as a tail, and watched her as Neeland rose to seat her at the tea-table.

”Sandy,” she said to the little dog, ”if you care to say 'Down with the Sultan,' I shall bestow one lump of sugar upon you.”

”Yap-yap!” said the little dog.

”Give it to him, please----” Rue handed the sugar to Neeland, who delivered it gravely.

”That's because I want Sandy to like you,” she added.

Neeland regarded the little dog and addressed him politely:

”I shouldn't dare call you Sandy on such brief acquaintance,” he said; ”but may I salute you as Alexander? Thank you, Alexander.”

He patted the dog, whose tail made a slight, sketchy motion of approval.

”Now,” said Rue Carew, ”you are friends, and we shall all be very happy together, I'm sure.... Princess Naa said we were not to wait.

Tell me how to fix your tea.”

He explained. About to begin on a b.u.t.tered _croissant_, he desisted abruptly and rose to receive the Princess, who entered with the light, springy step characteristic of her, gowned in one of those Parisian afternoon creations which never are seen outside that capital, and never will be.

”Far too charming to be real,” commented Neeland. ”You are a pretty fairy story, Princess Naa, and your gown is a miracle tale which never was true.”

He had not dared any such flippancy with Rue Carew, and the girl, who knew she was exquisitely gowned, felt an odd little pang in her heart as this young man's praise of the Princess Mistchenka fell so easily and gaily from his lips. He might have noticed her gown, as it had been chosen with many doubts, much hesitation, and anxious consideration, for him.

She flushed a little at the momentary trace of envy:

”You _are_ too lovely for words,” she said, rising. But the Princess gently forced her to resume her seat.

”If this young man has any discrimination,” she said, ”he won't hesitate with the golden apple, Ruhannah.”

Rue laughed and flushed:

”He hasn't noticed my gown, and I wore it for him to notice,” she said. ”But he was too deeply interested in Sandy and in tea and _croissants_----”

”I _did_ notice it!” said Neeland. And, to that young man's surprise and annoyance, his face grew hot with embarra.s.sment. What on earth possessed him to blush like a plow-boy! He suddenly felt like one, too, and turned sharply to the little dog, perplexed, irritated with himself and his behaviour.

Behind him the Princess was saying: