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  Chapter XVIII

  A Dark Horse

  "Le plus grand art d'un habile homme est celui de savoir cacher son habilete."

  Later in the day I was ignominiously recalled to London.

  "Useless to remain in Southampton. First note has been changed inLondon," Sander telegraphed to me.

  While lunching at the hotel, I learnt from the waiter that the youngFrench lady had received letters causing her to change her plans, andthat she had left hurriedly for Dover, the waiter thought.

  Sander came to see me the same evening at my club in London.

  "There are at least two in it--probably three," he said. "The note waschanged at Cook's office, in the purchase of two tourist tickets toBaden-Baden, which can, of course, be resold or used in part only. Itwas done by an old man--wore a wig, they tell me--but he was genuine;not a young man in disguise, I mean."

  If Mr. Sander knew more he did not take me further into hisconfidence. He was a pale-faced, slight man, having the outwardappearance of a city clerk. But the fellow had a keen look, and therewas something in the lines of his thin, determined lips that gave oneconfidence. I saw that he did not reciprocate this feeling. Indeed, Ithink he rather despised me for a thick-headed country bumpkin.

  He glanced around the gorgeously decorated smoking-room of the clubwith a look half-contemptuous and half-envious, and sat restlessly inthe luxurious arm-chair native to club smoking-rooms, as onecultivating a Spartan habit of life.

  "It is probable," he said bluntly, "that you are being watched."

  "Yes--I know the bailiffs keep their eye on me."

  "I suppose you are not going away to shoot or anything like that?"

  "I can go to France and look after Madame de Clericy's property,"answered I, and the prospect of a change of scene was not unpleasantto me. For, to tell the truth, I was ill at ease at this time, andwhile in England fell victim to a weak and unmanly longing to be atHopton. For, however strong a man's will may be, it seems that onewoman in his path must have the power to inspire him with such alonging that he cannot free his mind of thoughts of her, norinterest himself in any other part of the world but that which sheinhabits. Thus, to a grey-haired man who surely might have been wiser,it was actual misery to be in England and not at Hopton, whereAlphonse Giraud was no doubt happy enough in the neighbourhood of thewoman we both loved.

  "IT IS PROBABLE," HE SAID BLUNTLY, "THAT YOU ARE BEINGWATCHED."]

  "Yes," said Sander to me, after long thought. "Do that. I shall get onbetter if you are out of England."

  The man's air, as I have said, inspired confidence; and I, seeking anexcuse to be moving, determined to obey him without delay. Moreover, Iwas beginning to realise more and more the difficulties of my task,and the remembrance of what had passed at Hopton made failuresingularly distasteful.

  The Vicomtesse had property in the Morbihan, to which I couldpenetrate without great risk of arrest. We had heard nothing from theagent in charge of this estate since the outbreak of war, and itseemed probable that the man had volunteered for active service in oneof the Breton regiments, raised in all haste at this time.

  Writing a note to Madame, I left England the next day, intending to beabsent a week or ten days. My journey was uneventful, and needs not tobe detailed here.

  During the writer's absence in stricken France, Miss IsabellaGayerson, who seemed as restless as himself, suddenly bethoughtherself to open her London house and fill it with guests. It must beremembered that this lady was an heiress, and, if report be true, morethan one needy nobleman offered her a title and that which he calledhis heart, only to meet with a cold refusal. I who know her so wellcan fancy that these disinterested gentlemen hesitated to repeat theexperiment. It is vanity that too often makes a woman consent at last(though sometimes Love may awake and do it), and I think that Isabellawas never vain.

  "I have good reason to be without vanity," she once said in myhearing, but I do not know what she meant. The remark, as I remember,was made in answer to Lucille, who happened to say that a woman candress well without being vain, and laughingly gave Isabella as anexample.

  Isabella's chief reason in coming to London during the winter was akind one--namely, to put a temporary end to an imprisonment in thecountry which was irksome to Lucille. And I make no doubt the twoladies were glad enough to avail themselves of this opportunity ofseeing London. God made the country and men the towns, it is said; andI think they made them for the women.

  On returning to London I found letters from Madame de Clericyexplaining this change of residence, and in the same envelope a notefrom Isabella (her letters were always kinder than her speech),inviting me to stay in Hyde Park Street.

  "We are sufficiently old friends," she wrote, "to allow thus of ageneral invitation, and if it shares the usual fate of such, the faultwill be yours, and not mine."

  The letter was awaiting me at the club, and I deemed it allowable tocall in response the same afternoon. The news of Lucille's engagementto Alphonse Giraud was ever dangling before my eyes, and I wished toget the announcement swallowed without further suspense.

  Alphonse, a perfect squire of dames, was engaged in dispensing thinbread and butter when I entered the room, feeling, as I feel to thisday, somewhat out of place and heavy amid the delicate ornaments andflowers of a lady's drawing-room. My reception was not exactly warm,and I was struck by the pallor of Isabella's face, which, however,gave place to a more natural colour before long. Madame alone showedgladness at the sight of me, and held out both her hands in a welcomefull of affection. I thought Lucille's black dress very becoming toher slim form.

  We talked, of course, of the war, before which all other topics fadedinto insignificance at that time--and I had but disquieting news fromFrance. The siege had now lasted seven weeks, and none knew what theend might be. The opportunity awaited the Frenchman, but none rose tomeet it. France blundered on in the hands of political mediocrities,as she has done ever since.

  I gathered that Alphonse was staying in the house, and wondered at thenews, considering that Isabella knew him but slightly. It was theVicomtesse who gave me the information, with one of her quiet glancesthat might mean much or nothing. For myself, I confess they usuallypossessed but small significance--men being of a denser (thoughperhaps deeper) comprehension than women, who catch on the wing athought that flies past such as myself, and is lost.

  I could only conclude that Isabella was seeking the happiness of hernew-found friend in thus offering Giraud an opportunity, which hedoubtless seized with avidity.

  Isabella was kind enough to repeat her invitation, which, however, Ideclined with Madame's eye upon me and Lucille's back suddenly turnedin my direction. Lucille, in truth, was talking to Alphonse, and gailyenough. He had the power of amusing her, in which I was deficient, andshe was always merry.

  While we were thus engaged, a second visitor was announced, but I didnot hear his name. His face was unknown to me--a narrow, foxy face itwas--and the man's perfect self-assurance had something offensive init, as all shams have. I did not care for his manner towardsIsabella--which is, however, as I understand, quite _a la moded'aujourd'hui_--a sort of careless, patronising admiration, with notouch of respect in it.

  He made it quite apparent that he had come to see the young mistressof the house, and no one else, acknowledging the introductions to theremainder of the company with a scant courtesy. He talked to Isabellawith a confidential inclination of his body towards her as they sat onlow chairs with a small table between them, and it was easy to seethat she appreciated the attention of this middle-aged man of theworld.

  "You see, Miss Gayerson," I heard him say with a bold glance, for hewas one of those fine fellows who can look straight enough at a woman,but do not care to meet the eye of a man. "You see, I have taken youat your word. I wonder if you meant me to."

  "I always mean what I say," answered Isabella; and I thought sheglanced in my direction to see whether I was listening.

  "A privilege of your sex--als
o to mean what you don't say."

  At this moment Madame spoke to me, and I heard no more, but we may besure that his further conversation was of a like intellectual andnoteworthy standard. There was something in the man's lowered tone andinsinuating manner that made me set him down as a lawyer.

  "Do you notice," said Madame to me, "that Lucille is in betterspirits?"

  "Yes--I notice it with pleasure. Good spirits are for the young--andthe old."

  "I suppose you are right," said Madame. "Before the business of lifebegins, and after it is over."

  Apropos of business, I gave the Vicomtesse at this time an account ofmy journey to Audierne, and was able to inform her that I had broughtback money with me sufficient for her present wants.

  While I was thus talking I heard, through my own speech, that Isabellainvited the stranger to dine on the following Thursday.

  "I have another engagement," he answered, consulting a smallnote-book. "But that can be conveniently forgotten."

  Isabella seemed to like such exceedingly small social change, for shesmiled brightly as he rose to take his leave.

  To the Vicomtesse he paid a pretty little compliment in French,anticipating much enjoyment on the following Thursday in improvingupon his slight acquaintance. He shook hands with me, his gaze fixedon my necktie. He then bowed to Lucille and Alphonse, who were talkingtogether at the end of the room, and made a self-possessed exit.

  "Who is your friend?" I asked Isabella bluntly, when the door wasclosed.

  "A Mr. Devar. Does he interest you?"

  There was something in Isabella's tone that betokened a readiness, orperhaps a desire, to fight Mr. Devar's battles. Had I been a woman, orwiser than I have ever proved myself, I should, no doubt, have ignoredthis challenge instead of promptly meeting it by my answer:

  "I cannot say he does."

  "You seem to object to him," she said sharply. "Please remember thathe is a friend of mine."

  "He cannot be one of long standing," I was foolish enough to answer."For he is not an East Country man, and I never heard of him before."

  "As a matter of fact," said Isabella, "I met him at a ball in townlast week, and he asked permission to call."

  I gave a short laugh, and Isabella looked at me with calm defiance inher eyes. It was, of course, no business of mine, which knowledgeprobably urged me on to further blunders.

  Isabella's mental attitude was a puzzle to me. She was ready enoughto supply information respecting Mr. Devar, whose progress towardsintimacy had, to say the least of it, been rapid. But she supplied, asI thought, from a small store. She alternately allayed and aroused ananxiety which was natural enough in so old a friend, and to a man whohad moved among adventurers nearly all his life. Alfred Gayerson, herbrother and my earliest friend, was now in Vienna. Isabella had no oneto advise her. She was, I suppose, a forerunner of the advanced youngwomen of to-day, who, with a diminutive knowledge of the world culledfrom the imaginative writings of females as ignorant, are pleased toconsider themselves competent to steer a clean course over the shoalsof life.

  Isabella had had, as I understood, a certain experience of theordinary fortune-hunters of society--pleasant enough fellows, nodoubt, but lacking self-respect and manhood--and it seemedextraordinary that her eyes should be closed to Mr. Devar's manifoldqualifications to the title.

  "Perhaps," she said at length, "you also will do us the pleasure ofdining with us on Thursday, as you appear to be so deeply interestedin Mr. Devar despite your assurances to the contrary."

  "I shall be most happy to do so," answered I--ungraciously, Ifear--and there arose a sudden light, almost of triumph, to herusually repressed glance.

  Alphonse Giraud acceded to my suggestion that he should walk with metowards my club. His manner towards me had been reserved andunnatural, and I wished to get to the bottom of his feeling in respectto one whom he had always treated as a friend. Isabella was the onlyperson to suggest an objection to my proposal, reminding Alphonse,rather pointedly, that he had but time to dress for dinner.

  "Well," I said, when we were turning into Piccadilly, "Miste has begunto give us a scent at last."

  "It is not so much in Monsieur Miste as in the money that I aminterested," answered Giraud, swinging his cane, and looking about himwith a simulated interest in his surroundings.

  "Ah!"

  "Yes; and I am beginning to be convinced that I shall never seeeither."

  "Indeed."

  "Let us quit an unpleasant subject," said the Frenchman, after apause, and in the manner of one seeking to avoid an impending quarrel."What splendid horses you have in England! See that pair in thevictoria? one could not tell them apart. And what action!"

  "Yes," I answered, lamely enough; "we have good enough horses."

  And before I could return to the subject, which no longer drew ustogether, but separated us, he dragged out his watch and hurriedlyturned back, leaving me with a foolish and inexplicable sense ofguilt.