“Look here, Barker—­”

“Do not waste your vitality in that way,” said the American.  “I wish I had half of it.  It quite pains me to see you.  Now I will put the whole thing clearly before you as I suppose it happened, and you shall tell me if it is my fault or not, and whether, after all, it is such a very serious matter.  Countess Margaret did not know that Claudius was going, and did not speak of the trip.  Claudius thought she was angry, and when you arrived and let the cat out of the bag the Countess thought you were trying to amuse yourself by surprising her, and she was angry too.  Then they both made common cause and would have nothing more to do with you, and told you to go to the devil, and at this moment they are planning to remain here for the next forty or fifty years, and are sending off a joint telegram to Professor Immanuel Spencer, or whatever his name is, to hurry up and get some more books ready for them to read.  I am glad you have not bought Green Swash, though, really.”  There was a pause, and the Duke glared savagely at the cigar-box.

“Is your serene highness satisfied that I know all about it?” asked Barker at last.

“No, I am not.  And I am not serene.  She says she will go, and Claudius says he won’t.  And it is entirely your fault.”

“It is not of any importance what he says, or whether it is my fault or not.  If you had bestirred yourself to go and see her at eleven before Claudius arrived it would not have happened.  But he will go all the same; never fear.  And the Countess will persuade him too, without our doing anything in the matter.”

“You would not have thought so if you had seen the way she received the news that he was invited,” grumbled the Duke.

“If you associated more with women you would understand them better,” replied the other.

“I dare say.”  The Englishman was cooler, and at last made up his mind to take one of Mr. Barker’s cigars.  When he had lit it, he looked across at his friend.  “How do you expect to manage it?” he inquired.

“If you will write a simple little note to the Countess, and say you are sorry there should have been any misunderstanding, and if you and I leave those two to themselves for ten days, even if she invites us to dinner, they will manage it between them, depend upon it.  They are in love, you know perfectly well.”

“I suppose they are,” said the Duke, as if he did not understand that kind of thing.  “I think I will have some curacao and potass;” and he rang the bell.

“That’s not half a bad idea,” he said when he was refreshed.  “I begin to think you are not so idiotic as I supposed.”

“Waal,” said Barker, suddenly affecting the accents of his native shore, “I ain’t much on the drivel this journey anyhow.”  The Duke laughed; he always laughed at Americanisms.

“I guess so,” said the Duke, trying ineffectually to mimic his friend.  Then he went on in his natural voice, “I have an idea.”