A crash from below prevented an answer.

“Confound it!” Challenger’s voice was raised in vexation.

Summerlee’s eyebrows went up, out of patience with Challenger’s stubbornness in staying up and working in the lab. Roxton grinned. “I’ll take care of him, Professor.”

From below they could hear Roxton coaxing the scientist. “Come on, George, why don’t we get you upstairs so you can relax for a few minutes. Summerlee’s making dinner and we have a guest for you to meet.”

Marguerite smiled at Sándor, enchantingly. “You’re being used, Count Bocskai Sándor, as an inducement. I do hope you don’t mind.” The dulcet tone of her voice had Ned watching her suspiciously. Their companion normally only brought out this overly sweet manner when she was angling for something.

Marguerite was mildly curious to see what effect her charm might have on their visitor. Information gathering took many forms and it almost always was useful.

Sándor was not proof against Marguerite’s allure. He smiled winningly in his turn, his blue eyes bright; but, she noted, he still kept his distance from her. “I’m happy to help such a hospitable group of people, especially such a sophisticated lady as yourself. I see you are familiar with our manner of address,” impressed with her understanding of his country’s custom as she used his surname ahead of his given name, “but please, someone so enchanting must call me Sándor.” His voice was equally cajoling.

Below in the lab, Roxton spoke in a tone only Challenger could hear. “I want to get your impression of this blighter, George.”

Challenger, although gratified that his opinion was being sought out, was still reluctant about leaving his lab and joining the others. However, he knew their safety might depend on identifying a potential threat to their home, so he carefully blotted his notes to set the ink, and put his pen and journal away. Besides, truth be told, he was feeling a bit worn out and this was a way out that didn’t mean admitting Summerlee was right.

With Roxton’s assistance Challenger negotiated the stairway to the great room of the treehouse.

“This is Count Bocskai, whom I mentioned, Challenger.” Roxton aided the scientist in sitting in a chair near Marguerite. The hunter stood near Marguerite’s side not liking the smile on Bocskai’s face as he regarded the dark haired woman.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Professor Challenger. Your friends are fortunate to have two such learned men with them.” Bocskai bowed from where he stood. He made no attempt to approach the red haired scientist, but his polished smile took in both Summerlee and Challenger .

Challenger was not unmoved by the flattery, smiled and offered a compliment in return. “Good to meet you as well. I understand we have reason to be grateful to you.” The scientist nodded towards Malone.

“I was very thankful of Sándor’s skill with a spear. Both barrels of the rifle were empty.” Malone paused, still a little discomforted by not being given the opportunity to handle the last dinosaur, but determined to be fair. “And when that last raptor jumped us – well, I haven’t seen anyone make a throw with a knife like he did other than Veronica.”

“Well done, Count,” Roxton approved. Anyone who aided their comrades deserved some leeway in the hunter’s mind.

“Thank you, your lordship.” Sándor replied formally. Marguerite noted the Count’s punctilious manner. Clearly, while he was very genial on the surface, he obviously deferred to a title.

“Just Roxton will do.”

“Speaking of Veronica, where is she?” Challenger looked around.

“Right here.” Veronica appeared in her doorway.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ned was solicitous. Both he and Sándor had brightened with the jungle girl’s appearance.

“I’m fine now.” Veronica had a smile for Ned’s concern.

“Allow me.” With a smooth and deliberate manner, Sándor held a chair at the table for the blonde beauty. Veronica was delighted with his formal manners. It was what she read of in her parents’ books, but had not often found on the plateau. While the men in the treehouse were certainly courteous, it was an absentminded courtesy. Roxton would, at times, be more attentive to Marguerite. And Veronica, when seeing that, would occasionally feel the lack, wishing Malone might treat her in such an elegant manner. To receive such consideration from one who was apparently both educated and jungle-savvy was gratifying.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Summerlee left his station by the cooking fire to check on Veronica.

As he stepped forward his foot came down on one of the missed windmill parts that had been knocked to the floor. Summerlee flailed his arms as his foot went out from under him. Before he could tumble, Sándor gripped his arm. Summerlee’s hand grabbed Sándor’s shoulder to maintain his balance.

“Oh my!” The mild exclamation was all the botanist could say. His heart pounded as the adrenaline flowed, leaving him shaken as he regained his balance.

“Easy, Professor.” Roxton started forward as Ned got to the other side of Summerlee.

“Thank you, Count.” The elderly professor smiled at his rescuer.

Between Sándor and Malone they lowered Summerlee into a chair at the table. Veronica hovered as Roxton scooped up the offending piece of metal. It was from the windmill parts he’d been working on. “Sorry, Summerlee, my fault.”

“Why don’t you rest, I’ll take care of finishing dinner,” Veronica offered as she turned to the cooking fire.

“No, please, let me,” Count Bocskai interrupted pleasantly. “After all you have done, by inviting me here, it is the least I can do. Besides everything is so well in hand here, there is not much left to be done.” He dropped his voice low. “I would like to do this small thingfor you.” The last words were spoken, with obvious intensity, directly to Veronica, who smiled, flattered by his undisguised admiration.

As the Count took over the cooking detail his eye was caught by an oil painting of yellow flowers on the nearby easel. “What a charming painting!”

Summerlee removed his spectacles and wiped them carefully. “It’s an orchid, an Oncidium. The common name is Dancing Dolls.” Summerlee smiled as he replaced his glasses and regarded the artwork.

“Did you paint it, Professor?” Sándor divided his attention between the food preparation and the painting.

“No, although it was painted for me. Veronica is quite the talented artist.” Summerlee spoke with the admiration of one painter for another. He beamed a smile at her, silently expressing his gratitude for the present once more.

“You are a most remarkable lady. So very skilled. So many talents.”

Veronica’s cheeks colored in pleasure as the Count regarded her. To cover her confusion she crossed to the gramophone. “Would you like to hear some music?” At Sándor’s nod she selected a disk and carefully placed the needle on the record.

The strains of classical music filled the treehouse. The Count’s smile grew wider. “Ah, Bach.” His pleasure in the music was unmistakable.

Summerlee leaned back in his chair, eyes closing as he also enjoyed the music. The Count and Veronica exchanged the pleased smiles of music lovers. Veronica was delighted that here was another shared interest.

Sándor’s fascination with Veronica was apparent. She bloomed under the admiration of such an obviously sophisticated man. Marguerite watched the whole proceedings assiduously, weighing their significance. She resisted the urge to kick Ned under the table. Until Veronica and Malone decided to work things out, no amount of interference would solve anything.