Part 8 (1/2)
”I don't know that I'm so much disliked,” the young man answered, with a twinkle in his eyes, ”but I flatter myself that I have brought a new note into diplomacy. I was always taught that there were thirty-seven different ways of telling a lie, which is to state a diplomatic fact. I have swept them all away. I tell the truth.”
”How daring,” Maggie murmured, ”and how wonderfully original! What should you say, now, if I asked you if my nose wanted powdering?”
”I should start by saying that the question was outside the sphere of my activities,” he decided. ”I should then proceed to add, as a private person, that a little dab on the left side would do it no harm.”
”I begin to believe,” she confessed, ”that all I have heard of you is true.”
”Tell me exactly what you have heard,” he begged. ”Leave out everything that isn't nice. I thrive on praise and good reports.”
”To begin with, then, that you are an extraordinarily shrewd young man,”
she replied, ”that you speak seven languages perfectly and know your way about every capital of Europe, and that you have ideas of your own as to what is going to happen during the next six or seven years.”
”You've been moving in well-informed circles,” he admitted. ”Now shall I proceed to turn the tables upon you?”
”You can't possibly know anything about me,” she declared confidently.
”I could tell you what I've discovered from personal observation,” he replied.
”That sounds like compliments or candour,” she murmured. ”I'm terrified of both.”
”Well, I guess I'm not out to frighten you,” he a.s.sured her. ”I'll keep the secrets of my heart hidden--until after luncheon, at any rate---and just ask you--how you enjoyed your stay in Berlin?”
Maggie's manner changed. She lowered her voice.
”In Berlin?” she repeated.
”In the household of the erstwhile leather manufacturer, the present President, Herr Essendorf. I hope you liked those fat children. They always seemed to me loathsome little brats.”
”What do you know about my stay in Berlin?” she demanded.
”Everything there is to be known,” he answered. ”To tell you the truth, our people there were a trifle anxious about you. I was the little angel watching from above.”
”You are, without a doubt,” Maggie p.r.o.nounced, ”a most interesting young man. We will talk together presently.”
”A hint which sends me back to my mutton,” the young man observed.
”Dorminster,” he added, turning to his host, ”I heard the other day, on very good authority, that you were thinking of writing a novel. If you are, study the lady who has just entered. There is a type for you, an intelligence which might baffle even your attempts at a.n.a.lysis.”
Naida, escorted by her father and Immelan, took her place at an adjacent table. She bowed to Nigel and Karschoff before sitting down, and her eyes travelled over the rest of the party with interest. Then she recognised Maggie and waved her hand.
”Immelan is a very constant admirer,” Prince Karschoff remarked, a little uneasily.
”Is that her father?” Maggie asked.
The Prince nodded.
”He is one of the amba.s.sadors of commerce from my country,” he said. ”In place of diplomacy, he superintends the exchange of s.h.i.+pping cargoes and talks freights. I suppose Immelan and he are all the time comparing notes, but I scarcely see where my dear friend Naida comes in.”
”There is still the oldest interest in the world for her to fall back upon,” Chalmers murmured. ”One hears that Immelan is devoted.”