HAWCASTLE. Oh, it isn't that; but it's somewhat annoying not to be allowed to read one's paper in peace.

HORACE. Quite beastly annoying!

LADY CREECH. I had a distinct impression that the management had reserved this terrace for our party.

VASILI [quietly]. I fear we have disturbed these good people.

PIKE [in wonder]. Do you think they're hinting at us?

VASILI. I fear so.

PIKE [gently and with sincere amazement]. Why, _we_ haven't done anything to 'em.

VASILI. No, my friend.

PIKE [smiling]. Well, I guess there ain't any bones broken.

HORACE [throws down paper angrily on tea-table]. I can't stand this. I shall go for a stroll.

PIKE [rising]. I expect it's about time for me to go and find the two young folks I've come to look after.

VASILI. You are here for a duty, then?

PIKE [with gravity, yet smiling faintly]. I shouldn't be surprised if that was the name for it. Yes, sir, all the way from Indiana.

[ETHEL utters a low cry of fear.]

[HORACE, having secured his hat, is just rising to go, drops back into his chair with a stifled exclamation of dismay.]

[HAWCASTLE lays his paper flat on table. All this instantaneous.]

HAWCASTLE. By Jove!

[They all stare at PIKE.]

PIKE [continuing]. I expect, prob'ly, Doc, I won't be able to eat with you this evening. You see--[he pauses, somewhat embarra.s.sed]--you see, I've come a mighty long ways to look after her, and she, prob'ly--that is, _they'll_ prob'ly want me to have supper with _them_.

[The latter part of this speech is spoken rather breathlessly, though not rapidly, and almost tremulously, and with a growing smile that is like a confession.]

VASILI. Do not trouble for me. Your young people, they have a villa?

PIKE. No; they're right here in this hotel.

HORACE. I must get away!

[He says this huskily, almost in a whisper, as if to himself. His face is tense with anxiety.]

VASILI [with a gesture of dismissal, though graciously]. Seek them. I finish my cigarette.

PIKE. Guess I better ask.

[HORACE is crossing, meaning to get away through the grove.]

PIKE [addressing him]. Hey, there! Can you--

[HORACE, proceeding, pays no attention.]

PIKE [lifting his voice]. Excuse me, son, ain't you an American?

[More decidedly, to MARIANO.]

Waiter, tell that gentleman I'm speaking to him.

MARIANO [to HORACE]. M'sieu', that gentleman speak with you.

HORACE [agitated and angry]. What gentleman?

[MARIANO bows toward PIKE.]

PIKE [at same time genially]. I thought from your looks you must be an American.

HORACE [turning haughtily]. Are you speaking to _me_?

PIKE [good-humoredly]. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. Ain't you an American?

HORACE. I happen to have been born in the States.

PIKE [amiably]. Well, that _was_ luck!

HORACE [turning as if to go]. Will you kindly excuse me?

PIKE. Hold on a minute! I'm looking for some Americans here, and I expect you know 'em--boy and girl named Simpson.

HORACE. Is there any possibility that you mean Granger-Simpson?

[His tone is both alarmed and truculent.]

PIKE [much pleased]. No, sir; just plain Simpson. Granger's their middle name. That's for old Jed Granger, grandfather on their ma's side.

[He p.r.o.nounces "ma" with the broad Hoosier accent--"maw."]

I want to see 'em both, but it's the girl I'm rilly looking for.

HORACE [trembling, but speaking even more haughtily]. Will you be good enough to state any possible reason why Miss Granger-Simpson should see you?

PIKE [in profound surprise, yet mildly]. Reason--why, yes--I'm her guardian.

[ETHEL lifts her hand to her forehead as if dizzy. MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY puts an arm around her. ETHEL recovers herself and stands rigidly, staring at PIKE.]