Nora, without relaxing the false smile, suddenly found emptiness in everything.
He did not press her. Instead, he whispered in his own tongue: "You are the most adorable woman in the world!"
And Nora turned upon him a pair of eyes blank with astonishment. It was as though she had been asleep and he had rudely awakened her. His infatuation blinded him to the truth; he saw in the look a feminine desire to throw the others off the track as to the sentiment expressed in his whispered words.
The hour passed tolerably well. Herr Rosen then observed the time, rose and excused himself. He took the steps leading abruptly down the terrace to the carriage road. He had come by the other way, the rambling stone stairs which began at the porter's lodge, back of the villa.
"Padre," whispered Courtlandt, "I am going. Do not follow. I shall explain to you when we meet again."
The padre signified that he understood. Harrigan protested vigorously, but smiling and shaking his head, Courtlandt went away.
Nora ran to the window. She could see Herr Rosen striding along, down the winding road, his head in the air. Presently, from behind a cluster of mulberries, the figure of another man came into view. He was going at a dog-trot, his hat settled at an angle that permitted the rain to beat squarely into his face. The next turn in the road shut them both from sight. But Nora did not stir.
"Yes." Courtlandt had caught up with him just as Herr Rosen was about to open the gates. "Just a moment, Herr Rosen," with a hand upon the bars. "I shall not detain you long."
There was studied insolence in the tones and the gestures which accompanied them.
"My name is Edward Courtlandt, as doubtless you have heard."
"In a large room it is difficult to remember all the introductions."
"Precisely. That is why I take the liberty of recalling it to you, so that you will not forget it," urbanely.
A pause. Dark patches of water were spreading across their shoulders. Little rivulets ran down Courtlandt's arm, raised as it was against the bars.
"I do not see how it may concern me," replied Herr Rosen finally with an insolence more marked than Courtlandt's.
"In Paris we met one night, at the stage entrance of the Opera, I pushed you aside, not knowing who you were. You had offered your services; the door of Miss Harrigan's limousine."