He laughed. "No! And if I did, what good would it do you? It is night; you are many miles from anywhere, in the wildest mountains of Europe. You do not speak one word of the language, or any one in this land a word of yours. Practically, you are alone in the world with me. Even your wretched little dog is not here to snarl. His curiosity took him outside, and he cannot get back through the keyhole of the door, small as he is. Presently the Consul will be at this house. I had meant to go to his had it not been for the accident, but I will send for him. He is my very good friend. He will do what I ask." "But if I do not consent?" I flung at him. "You will have to consent," he said; "and soon you will see that for yourself." PART V TOLD BY TERENCE BARRYMORE XXV A CHAPTER OF CHASING I wondered why the ladies didn't come to lunch, for the last thing they had said when we brought them back in the motor was, "We shall see you again at half-past twelve." Ralph and Bari and his sister and I, waited for a quarter of an hour; then we sat down, for the Signorina thought they might have changed their minds and be lunching with the little invalid. But at half-past one, while we were still at the table, a message came from Miss Beechy. She had waked up from her nap, "sent her compliments," and would be glad to know when her Mamma and cousin would return to her. That took the Signorina flying to the bedroom, and there was an interval of some suspense for Ralph and me; for the absence of the ladies, with this new light thrown upon it, began to appear a little strange. The Italian girl was away for an age, it seemed, and we knew the instant we saw her, that she was not the bearer of reassuring news. Her pretty face looked worried and excited. "The Countess and Miss Destrey have not been up-stairs," she announced in her native tongue. "The little Bice has been awake for an hour, wondering why they never came. Will you make inquiries of the landlord?" I lost not a moment in obeying this request; and even before I got my answer, I seemed to know that Dalmar-Kalm would be mixed up in the affair. The ladies had driven away with His Highness in a hired cab not many minutes after we had brought them to the hotel door with the motor. On the face of it, it looked ridiculous to fear mischief, yet I was uneasy. If I had not worshipped Her so much--but then, there had ceased to be any "if" in it long ago. I had very little hope that she could ever be got to care, even if I could reconcile it with common decency to ask a girl to think of a stony-broke beggar like me. But in some moods I was mad to try my luck, when I reflected on what she had before her if I--or some other brute of a man--didn't snatch her from it. But whether or no she were ever to be more to me than a goddess, the bare thought of trouble or harm coming to her was enough to drive me out of my wits.