"I could not have rested had I not warned Mr. Buckhurst of this," I
said, sentimentally.
Which was fairly well done, considering that I was figuratively
lamenting over the innocence of the most accomplished scoundrel that
ever sat in the supreme council of the Internationale.
Buckhurst looked thoughtfully at the floor.
"If I thought," he murmured--"if I believed for one instant--"
"Believe me, my dear sir," I said, "that you are playing into the
hands of the wickedest villains on earth!"
"Your earnestness almost converts me," he said, lifting his stealthy
eyes.
The Countess appeared weary and perplexed.
"At all events," she said, "we must do nothing to embarrass France
now; we must do nothing until this frightful war is ended."
After a silence Buckhurst said, "But you will go to Paradise,
madame?"
"Yes," replied the Countess, listlessly.
Now, what in Heaven's name attracted that rogue to Paradise?