Blithers, Count.
Don't ask too much of him. What kind of a nation are we if we can't
get along without asking God to defend us every time we see trouble
ahead? And do you suppose he is going to defend us against a slip of
a girl--"
"Enough! Enough!" cried the Count, compressing his lips and glaring
straight ahead.
"That's the way to talk," cried Robin enthusiastically. "By the way,
I hope Dank is clever enough to find out who that young fellow is
while they are clearing the luggage in there. I had a good look at
him just now. He is all that Hobbs describes and a little more. He is
a hustler."
CHAPTER XIII
THE RED LETTER B
In the Baron's room at the Ritz late that night there was held a
secret conference. Two shadowy figures stole down the corridor at
midnight and were admitted to the room, while Prince Robin slept
soundly in his remote four-poster and dreamed of something that
brought a gentle smile to his lips.
The three conspirators were of the same mind: it was clear that
something must be done. But what? That was the question.
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