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Updated: June 4, 2025
Suddenly a strangely commonplace, yet in the silence of the house and the great hall an almost dramatic sound startled him. The front doorbell rang sharply. After a moment's hesitation, he hurried to it himself. Karschoff stood upon the steps, still in his evening clothes, his face a little drawn and haggard in the bright light. "I could not resist coming in, Nigel," he said.
"In a sense, of course, I am conceited," he replied. "I am the happiest and proudest man here. I really think that after all we ought to turn it into a celebration." The band was playing a waltz. Naida's head moved to the music, and presently Nigel rose to his feet with a smile, and they passed into the ballroom. Karschoff and Mrs. Bollington Smith watched them with interest.
Seated in one of the first tier boxes at the Albert Hall, in the gorgeous but obsolete uniform of a staff officer in the Russian Imperial Forces, Prince Karschoff, with Nigel on one side and Maggie on the other, gazed with keen interest at the brilliant scene below and around.
"A club for diplomats and gentlemen," Prince Karschoff remarked, looking lazily through a little cloud of tobacco smoke around the spacious but almost deserted card room. "The classification seems comprehensive enough, yet it seems impossible to get even a decent rubber of bridge." Sir Daniel Harker, a many years retired plenipotentiary to one of the smaller Powers, shrugged his shoulders.
"Naida is looking very wonderful to-night," the latter remarked. "And Nigel, too; I wonder if there is anything between them." "The days of foreign alliances are past," Karschoff replied, "but a few intermarriages might be very good for this country." "Are you serious?" she asked. "Absolutely!
"I can't be responsible, directly or indirectly, for a political flirtation," Chalmers grumbled. "Besides, why should there be any politics about it at all? Mademoiselle Karetsky is quite attractive enough to turn the head even of a seasoned old boulevardier like you, Prince." "That young man," Karschoff said deliberately, "will find himself before long face to face with a blighted career.
Nigel nodded understandingly as he threw open the front door. "I'll tell you about it to-morrow," he promised, "or rather later on to-day. She's a little overwrought. Otherwise there's nothing." Karschoff turned away with a sigh of relief. "I am glad," he said. "Prince Shan is the soul of honour according to his own standard, but these Orientals one never knows. I am glad, Nigel."
"I like the conversation," she said. "Naida and I are, after all, women and sentimentalists. We claim a respite, an armistice call it what you will. Prince Karschoff, won't you tell me of the most beautiful house you ever dwelt in?" "Always the house I am hoping to end my days in," he answered. "But let me tell you about a villa I had in Cannes, fifteen years ago.
"That is just the question," Prince Shan replied, "which two very intelligent gentlemen from Scotland Yard asked me this morning. Theory? Why should I have a theory?" "The attempt was without a doubt directed against you," Karschoff observed. "Do you imagine that it was personal or political?" "How can I tell?" the Prince rejoined carelessly. "Why should any one desire my death?
"The market value here," he observed, "seems a little higher, but the supply greater." "Touché!" Karschoff laughed. "There is another point of view, too. The further east you go, the less value life has. Westwards, it becomes an absolute craze to preserve and coddle it, to drag it out to its furthermost span.
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