The Yellow Crayon Read online

  CHAPTER XVII

  "This little difference of opinion," the Prince remarked, lookingthoughtfully through the emerald green of his liqueur, "interests me.Our friend Dolinski here thinks that he will not come because he willbe afraid. De Brouillac, on the contrary, says that he will not comebecause he is too sagacious. Felix here, who knows him best, says thathe will not come because he prefers ever to play the game from outsidethe circle, a looker-on to all appearance, yet sometimes wielding anunseen force. It is a strong position that."

  Lucille raised her head and regarded the last speaker steadily.

  "And I, Prince!" she exclaimed, "I say that he will come because he is aman, and because he does not know fear."

  The Prince of Saxe Leinitzer bowed low towards the speaker.

  "Dear Lucille," he said, so respectfully that the faint irony of histone was lost to most of those present, "I, too, am of your opinion.The man who has a right, real or fancied, to claim you must indeed bea coward if he suffered dangers of any sort to stand in the way. Afterall, dangers from us! Is it not a little absurd?"

  Lucille looked away from the Prince with a little shudder. He laughedsoftly, and drank his liqueur. Afterwards he leaned back for a momentin his chair and glanced thoughtfully around at the assembled company asthough anxious to impress upon his memory all who were present. It was alittle group, every member of which bore a well-known name. Their host,the Duke of Dorset, in whose splendid library they were assembled, was,if not the premier duke of the United Kingdom, at least one of thosewhose many hereditary offices and ancient family entitled him to aforemost place in the aristocracy of the world. Raoul de Brouillac,Count of Orleans, bore a name which was scarcely absent from a singlepage of the martial history of France. The Prince of Saxe Leinitzer keptup still a semblance of royalty in the State which his ancestors hadruled with despotic power. Lady Muriel Carey was a younger daughter ofa ducal house, which had more than once intermarried with Royalty. Theothers, too, had their claims to be considered amongst the greatestfamilies of Europe.

  The Prince glanced at his watch, and then at the bridge tables ready setout.

  "I think," he said, "that a little diversion--what does our hostesssay?"

  "Two sets can start at least," the Duchess said. "Lucille and I willstay out, and the Count de Brouillac does not play."

  The Prince rose.

  "It is agreed," he said. "Duke, will you honour me? Felix and Dolinskiare our ancient adversaries. It should be an interesting trial ofstrength."

  There was a general movement, a re-arrangement of seats, and a littlebuzz of conversation. Then silence. Lucille sat back in a great chair,and Lady Carey came over to her side.

  "You are nervous to-night, Lucille," she said.

  "Yes, I am nervous," Lucille admitted. "Why not? At any moment he may behere."

  "And you care--so much?" Lady Carey said, with a hard little laugh.

  "I care so much," Lucille echoed.

  Lady Carey shook out her amber satin skirt and sat down upon a lowdivan. She held up her hands, small white hands, ablaze with jewels, andlooked at them for a moment thoughtfully.

  "He was very much in earnest when I saw him at Sherry's in New York,"she remarked, "and he was altogether too clever for Mr. Horser and ourfriends there. After all their talk and boasting too. Why, they areignorant of the very elements of intrigue."

  Lucille sighed.

  "Here," she said, "it is different. The Prince and he are ancientrivals, and Raoul de Brouillac is no longer his friend. Muriel, I amafraid of what may happen."

  Lady Carey shrugged her shoulders.

  "He is no fool," she said in a low tone. "He will not come here with amagistrate's warrant and a policeman to back it up, nor will he attemptto turn the thing into an Adelphi drama. I know him well enough to besure that he will attempt nothing crude. Lucille, don't you find itexhilarating?"

  "Exhilarating? But why?"

  "It will be a game played through to the end by masters, and you, mydear woman, are the inspiration. I think that it is most fascinating."

  Lucille looked sadly into the fire.

  "I think," she said, "that I am weary of all these things. I seem tohave lived such a very long time. At Lenox I was quite happy. Of my ownwill I would never have left it."

  Lady Carey's thin lips curled a little, her blue eyes were full ofscorn. She was not altogether a pleasant woman to look upon. Her cheekswere thin and hollow, her eyes a little too prominent, some hiddenexpression which seemed at times to flit from one to the other of herfeatures suggested a sensuality which was a little incongruous with hersomewhat angular figure and generally cold demeanour. But that she was awoman of courage and resource history had proved.

  "How idyllic!" she exclaimed. "Positively medieval! Fancy living withone man three years."

  Lucille smiled.

  "Why, not? I never knew a woman yet however cold however fond of change,who had not at some time or other during her life met a man for whosesake she would have done--what I did. I have had as many admirers--asmany lovers, I suppose, as most women. But I can truthfully say thatduring the last three years no thought of one of them has crossed mymind."

  Lady Carey laughed scornfully.

  "Upon my word," she said. "If the Prince had not a temper, and if theywere not playing for such ruinous points, I would entertain them allwith these delightful confidences. By the bye, the Prince himself wasonce one of those who fell before your chariot wheels, was he not? Lookat him now--sideways. What does he remind you of?"

  Lucille raised her eyes.

  "A fat angel," she answered, "or something equally distasteful. How Ihate those mild eyes and that sweet, slow smile. I saw him thrash a poorbeater once in the Saxe Leinitzer forests. Ugh!"

  "I should not blame him for that," Lady Carey said coldly. "I likemasterful men, even to the point of cruelty. General Dolinski therefascinates me. I believe that he keeps a little private knout at homefor his wife and children. A wicked little contrivance with an ivoryhandle. I should like to see him use it."

  Lucille shuddered. This tete-a-tete did not amuse her. She rose andlooked over one of the bridge tables for a minute. The Prince, who wasdealing, looked up with a smile.

  "Be my good angel, Countess," he begged. "Fortune has deserted meto-night. You shall be the goddess of chance, and smile your favoursupon me."

  A hard little laugh came from the chair where Lady Carey sat. She turnedher head towards them, and there was a malicious gleam in her eyes.

  "Too late, Prince," she exclaimed. "The favours of the Countess are allgiven away. Lucille has become even as one of those flaxen-haired dollsof your mountain villages. She has given her heart away, and she issworn to perpetual constancy."

  The Prince smiled.

  "The absence," he said, glancing up at the clock, "of that mostfortunate person should surely count in our favour."

  Lucille followed his eyes. The clock was striking ten. She shrugged hershoulders.

  "If the converse also is true, Prince," she said, "you can scarcely haveanything to hope for from me. For by half-past ten he will be here."

  The Prince picked up his cards and sorted them mechanically.

  "We shall see," he remarked. "It is true, Countess, that you are here,but in this instance you are set with thorns."

  "To continue the allegory, Prince," she answered, passing on to the nexttable, "also with poisonous berries. But to the hand which has no fear,neither are harmful."

  The Prince laid down his hand.

  "Now I really believe," he said gently, "that she meant to be rude.Partner, I declare hearts!"

  Felix was standing out from the next table whilst his hand was beingplayed by General Dolinski, his partner. He drew her a little on oneside.

  "Do not irritate Saxe Leinitzer," he whispered. "Remember, everythingmust rest with him. Twice to-night you have brought that smile to hislips, and I never see it without thinking of unpleasant things."

  "You are right," she answere
d; "but I hate him so. He and Muriel Careyseem to have entered into some conspiracy to lead me on to say thingswhich I might regret."

  "Saxe Leinitzer," he said, "has never forgotten that he once aspired tobe your lover."

  "He has not failed to let me know it," she answered. "He has evendared--ah!"

  There was a sudden stir in the room. The library door was thrown open.The solemn-visaged butler stood upon the threshold.

  "His Grace the Duke of Souspennier!" he announced.