He shouted lugubrious congratulations in Brock's ear, just
as if Brock's ear had not been harassed a whole night long by shrieking
wheels and rasping cables.
"Monsieur is very fortunate in being so afflicted," he boomed. "A
thousand times in the night have I wished that I might be deaf also. Ah,
even an affliction such as yours, monsieur, has its benedictions!"
Matters drifted along smoothly, even merrily, for several days. They
were all young and full of the joy of living. They laughed in secret
over the mishaps and perils; they whiffed and enjoyed the spice that
filled the atmosphere in which they lived. They visited the gardens and
the Hofs, the Chateau at Schoenbrunn, the Imperial stables, the gay
"Venice in Vienna"; they attended the opera and the concerts, ever in a
most circumspect "trinity," as Brock had come to classify their parties.
Like a dutiful husband, he always included his wife in the expeditions.
"You are not only a most exemplary wife, Mrs. Medcroft," he declared,
"but an unusually agreeable chaperon. I don't know how Constance and I
could get on without you."
But the day of severest trial was now at hand. The Rodneys were arriving
on the fifth day from Berlin. Despite the fact that the Seattle
"connections" had never seen the illustrious Medcroft, husband to their
distant cousin, there still remained the disturbing fear that they would
recognise--or rather fail to recognise him!--from chance pictures that
might have come to their notice.
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