In the end, of course, I _did_ go. There was never really any doubt about
it, when once my mind had grasped the situation. Mizzi was the very last
person who would be likely to send for me without reason. Fortunately my
editor was able to grant me the necessary vague leave of absence. I rang
up Severn at his chambers, thinking to talk over the matter with him,
but his man informed me that he was out of town.
Thus, once again, the boat-train from Victoria, the Channel crossing,
the dash across Paris from the Gare St. Lazare to the Gare de l'Est, the
terrific crawl through the Arlberg, and then, in the sun of early
morning, Vienna, with the sky like a blue enamel bowl, and the
temperature soaring already.