OLD SCORES.
Madame Davilliers' was a very pleasant household. Of course it had
not the ease and freedom that reigns in an English home, at least for
young people. Antoinette and her friend were treated with the kind of
affectionate indulgence suited to infants of tender years, but watched
also and guarded with the care due to creatures of the same immature
age.
To Lambert and his daughter madame extended a wide
indulgence,--"Americans, you know," in an explanatory tone, was always
her comment on any eccentricity of theirs. She was exceedingly anxious
to settle Elsie judiciously, as she felt convinced she would have a
goodly dower, and deeply regretted that she had not a son old enough to
demand the charming mademoiselle in marriage. Lambert, however, showed
himself reluctant to accept any of her suggestions, and she therefore
concluded that he had other plans in view.
Elsie Lambert was very happy with Antoinette. They practiced duets
together, and traced patterns, and Elsie read aloud to her friend when
she was at work, or repeated to her the stories and poems she had
lately read in English, on Glynn's recommendation. Elsie was the master
spirit of the two, though Antoinette was by far the bravest and most
self-possessed in society.
But amid her contentment Elsie was conscious of an extraordinary
want--a void which nothing sufficed to fill; it was the want of those
quiet conversations with Glynn, each of which awoke new ideas, new
aspirations, new life. He called as he had promised, and was received
most graciously by Madame Davilliers in her _salon_. Both girls were
present. Glynn, however, knew well he must not speak more than a few
civil words to them, and even his inquiries for Lambert he felt bound
to utter in French. But Elsie's expressive eyes told him much. They
said frankly and innocently, "I wish I could talk to you. I wish I dare
speak as usual. This is all rather tiresome." And he longed unutterably
to take her out for a long ramble in the _bois_, her arm through his
own, her sweet candid face uplifted to his, that she might the better
comprehend the meaning of his words; but he must not think of such
things. He ought to be thankful, especially thankful, that her feelings
towards him were so calm and friendly. If he were to read anything of
tenderness, of passion, in those lovely blue eyes of hers, why, chaos
would be come again! For to call Lambert father-in-law would be chaotic!
"How is M. Vincent?" asked Madame Davilliers, as Glynn rose to take
leave one afternoon; "he has not presented himself lately. He is a
most interesting man, and quite French in his knowledge of life and
character! I shall beg him to give himself the trouble of dining with
us on Wednesday next, and I hope that you too, monsieur, will do us
the pleasure of joining our little party. Wednesday is the anniversary
of our wedding-day, and M. Davilliers proposes to make a little fête
in its honor. If fine we shall dine at the 'Grande Cascade' at six
o'clock; we hope our good friend Monsieur Lambert will return in time
for our _réunion_."
"It is also the anniversary of Lodi, and the Grande Cascade will be
illuminated," cried Antoinette. "It will be superb."
"Yes, do come, it will be charming," said Elsie.
"I need no persuasion," replied Glynn. "I shall be but too happy to
join your party, madame."
During the days which intervened Glynn kept a sharp look-out wherever
he went, both for Deering and Vincent, but in vain; he saw no trace of
either. The weather was variable, and Glynn offered up earnest prayers
for sunshine and blue skies on the eagerly anticipated Wednesday. There
were opportunities for a _tête-à-tête_ in the freedom of a restaurant
dinner which were not to be found within the narrow limits of a private
dwelling.
The fates were propitious. Wednesday broke bright and warm, and most
of the party were assembled when Glynn drove up to the restaurant of
the Grande Cascade. Madame Davilliers was richly attired in crimson
and black brocade, with white plumes in her bonnet; her daughter in
diaphanous dove-color and pink; while Miss Lambert, who was unusually
animated, looked lovely in soft, clear white Indian muslin over
spring-like green, with abundance of delicate lace, and a poetic little
bonnet decorated with violets, which showed the wavy richness of her
golden-brown hair.
She was listening with an amused smile to some remarks of Monsieur
Davilliers, a good-humored looking and rather ponderous man, with a
morsel of red ribbon in his button-hole.
Glynn was warmly greeted by all, including Vincent, who, to his
(Glynn's) annoyance, was amongst the guests, magnificently got up in
the height of fashion, with a heavy emerald ring fastening his necktie,
a brilliant diamond on one little finger, an onyx signet-ring on the
other and a massive gold pencil-case and bunch of charms dangling from
his guard-chain.
"Is it not unfortunate?" said Elsie in a low tone, when Glynn succeeded
in getting near her; "my father cannot return till to-morrow."
"Yes, it is too bad that _he_ cannot come, and that Vincent _can_."
"Do not look so angry," she returned with a smile. "I am sorry too, and
yet I don't know why; he is always very polite and obliging, and seems
to be great friends with my father."
"There are instincts--" began Glynn; but dinner was announced, and he
was directed to escort a brilliant dame, who made a determined attack
upon him, and would not share his attention with any one.
Vincent was placed next Miss Lambert, and appeared to succeed in
entertaining her. Altogether Glynn felt provoked, and by no means
amused, as he had anticipated.
When dinner was over Vincent proposed that they should take their
coffee in the veranda, which was only raised a step above the gardens
in front of the restaurant, and from whence they could see the spray
of the waterfall glittering in the light of the setting sun. This was
readily agreed to, and in the movement which ensued Glynn contrived to
place himself near Elsie.
"What an interminable dinner!" he exclaimed.
"Yet you had a very agreeable neighbor?"
"If a forty horse-power of talk constitutes agreeability, I had. I hope
your father will return to-morrow. It seems such an age since I heard
you sing."
"But I sang to you on Sunday."
"To me? no, to a crowd of strangers, of whom I was one."
"_I_ do not consider you a stranger."
"Thank you; you are infinitely good to say so," gazing into her eyes.
"It is a great additional charm to hear you in your own room, with only
your father and myself for audience. Do you think me selfish for saying
so?"
"No; yet music is music, wherever you hear it."
"_Your_ music is something different from all other," began Glynn,
scarcely able to keep back the imprudent expressions which rushed to
his lips, so delighted was he to have a few words aside with her.
"I hope you will not go away until my father returns," said Elsie, not
seeming to heed his compliment; "he would be sorry to miss you."
"I shall certainly not leave until he returns," said Glynn, feeling
himself in some odd way bound to watch over Elsie in Lambert's absence.
"Don't you think he will come to-morrow?"
"Mr. Vincent seems to think it probable he may be delayed."
"Indeed! Vincent appeared to have a good deal to say for himself at
dinner."
"Yes; he seems to be looking for some one," for Vincent had gone to
the edge of the veranda, and was surveying the various groups standing
or walking about the little lawn in front of the _café_. Presently he
bowed and smiled, saying to Madame Davilliers:
"I see an English friend of mine, apparently alone; have I your
permission to present him to you? He is a man of fashion and
distinction--a Mr. Travers.
"But certainly," cried Madame Davilliers, "any friend of yours, dear
sir----"
Vincent stepped forward, while Glynn felt a thrill of angry
anticipation. In a few minutes he returned, accompanied by--Deering!
Vincent at once presented him to Madame Davilliers, who put on her
most elegant manner to receive so distinguished an addition to her
party; and Elsie's eyes sought Glynn, saying as distinctly as eyes
could say, "You see I was right."
Madame's elegancies were thrown away upon Deering. He understood but
little French, and only bowed with a sort of haughty courtesy to his
smiling hostess.
"Ah, Glynn, you here?" he exclaimed, turning from her to his
compatriot. "I fancied you were at Berlin."
"And _I_ imagined _you_ preparing for the next general election, which
is not far off, I suspect," returned Glynn. "I hope you left Lady
Frances and your boy quite well."
"They are all right," returned Deering, shortly, and even as he spoke
his eyes were rivetted on Miss Lambert with a strange, watchful gaze,
at once admiring and hostile. The color slowly rose in her cheek, and
she looked away in evident embarrassment, while Glynn felt an almost
irresistible impulse to take him by the neck and throw him out of
the circle into which he had intruded. But civilization compelled
them to exchange polite sentences instead of following their natural
tendency--to fly at each other's throats.
"Pray introduce me to your English friends," said Deering to Vincent,
with a certain air of condescension.
"The only English-speaking member of our party besides Mr. Glynn is
this young lady, and I claim her as American. Miss Lambert, allow me to
present Mr. Travers Deering to you."
Glynn noticed that he used both names this time. Was the omission of
one of them at first intentional?
"You must take pity on me, and allow me to sit beside you," said
Deering, in a carefully softened tone; "for, unfortunately, I cannot
speak French, and feel awkward when I am alongside one of our lively
neighbors."
He drew a chair by her as he spoke, laying aside his hat and taking
his place with the easy, well-bred decision of a man perfectly sure of
himself, of his social standing, and his general acceptability. Elsie
gazed at him as if fascinated, and Glynn could not help thinking how
handsome and lordly and thoroughbred he looked, just the style of man
to captivate a girl's imagination.
"Do you know, Miss Lambert, I have some very humble apologies to offer
you for my involuntary rudeness. I can only urge that when I saw you
at the races, I was so struck by your remarkable likeness to a very
charming woman I knew long ago, that I really could not keep my eyes in
order."
"You did not offend me," said Elsie, with a quick little sigh, and
making a slight unconscious movement, as if to draw nearer Glynn. "I am
glad I reminded you of some one you liked."
"I did not say I _liked_ her, though she _was_ charming," returned
Deering, with a searching glance and a somewhat cynical smile.
Elsie did not reply; she looked wonderingly at him out of her great
serious blue eyes, as if at some curious, dangerous creature.
"So I am to consider myself pardoned?" resumed Deering.
"I have nothing to forgive." Then turning to Glynn, she asked, "Do you
think the fireworks will soon begin?"
"Not until it is considerably darker. I suppose we ought to go out to
see them; we shall only have a very narrow view here."
"Yes, we can't possibly stay in this corner," exclaimed Deering,
looking round impatiently.
"Oh, I fancy madame will make a move," said Vincent, who was hovering
about in his character of sponsor to his aristocratic friend.
"I did not know you had so distinguished a circle of French
acquaintances," resumed Deering, addressing Glynn, and glancing with
slightly elevated eyebrows towards Madame Davilliers and her friends.
The glance caught that lady's attention, and induced her to turn the
fire of her conversation upon him. To which Deering replied, with the
assistance of Miss Lambert and Glynn. On her own account Elsie said
very little, and seemed to have lost the brightness that animated her
before and during dinner.
At length the first rocket rushed towards the sky, and burst into a
cluster of many-colored stars, whereupon every one jumped up and made
for the garden, the lawn, the roadway.
"Pray take my arm," said Glynn to Elsie the moment he saw the stampede
beginning. "It may not be easy to keep together in the crowd."
"That is not fair, Glynn," said Deering with a smile. "You appropriate
the only lady who can speak English, and condemn me to silence for the
next hour."
"I am very sorry," said Glynn coolly; "but in Captain Lambert's absence
I consider myself in some degree responsible for his daughter."
"Antoinette speaks a little English," said Elsie, "and will be charmed
to talk to you--I mean Mademoiselle Davilliers," looking towards her.
"Pray do not trouble yourself," returned Deering hastily, "I can exist
for half an hour in an unattached condition; besides, one can always
pick up the crumbs which fall from rich men's tables." This with an
insolent laugh, which grated on Glynn, as did Deering's whole tone; it
conveyed the idea that he was amongst people whom he did not respect
sufficiently to feel any restraint, and, moreover, that he was in a bad
temper.
Elsie did not require a second invitation. Glynn was amused and touched
by the readiness with which she took and almost clung to his arm as
they sallied forth and mixed with the crowd. Deering, true to his
avowed intention of "picking up the crumbs," kept persistently on her
right--her unguarded side--and mastering his ill humor, talked lightly
and easily, every now and then planting a query as to her past life,
the drift of which Glynn thought he perceived.
"Is it North or South America which has the honor of claiming you, Miss
Lambert?"
"Neither; I have never been in America, I was born in Australia."
"Australia! so much for preconceived ideas. I was disposed to swear
that you were English born and bred."
"I have been more in England than anywhere else."
"Indeed! whereabouts, may I ask?"
"Look! what a splendid effect!" exclaimed Glynn, who was not too
pleased at this acquaintance.
"Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Elsie, her attention quite diverted. A
large star of silvery light had suddenly appeared over the waterfall,
through the spray of which it shone in varied prismatic colors, and
Vincent coming up at the moment to speak to Deering, Glynn managed
dexterously to lose himself and his companion in the crowd, and for a
delicious half-hour had her all to himself.
"It is nearly over," he said at last. "Let us make our way to the
_café_; we were all to assemble there; you are tired, I am sure, and I
am afraid Deering has bored you."
"I never know what being bored means exactly. I did not like speaking
to him at first, but he can make himself very pleasant, and he looks
well. How did he come to know Mr. Vincent? really Mr. Vincent scarcely
seems fit to be his servant."
"That is rather strong," said Glynn, laughing, yet with a sense of
annoyance at her words; "but his acquaintance with Vincent does seem
inexplicable. I wonder if he would ask him to Denham and introduce him
to his wife, Lady Frances?"
"Is Mr. Deering's wife a great lady?"
"Yes, thoroughbred, and I suspect with a thoroughbred's power of
endurance."
"Is she not happy, then?"
"Elsie, my child," cried Madame Davilliers, close beside them, "we are
going to return home. You must go in the carriage with monsieur, Henri
Le Clerc, and Madame Dubois; they await you in the veranda. Antoinette
is speaking English quite well, but ex_cee_dingly well, to M. Dérin. He
is really most distinguished. He ought to learn French."
"I am afraid he is a little too old, madame," said Glynn.
They were soon at the rendezvous: the carriages were ready, and Glynn
having wrapped Elsie's cloak round her, was obliged to let Deering hand
her into the carriage, as he had stationed himself at the door.
"Good-night, Miss Lambert; I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you
soon again,"--with a little ring of triumph in his tone, and she was
whirled away into the soft darkness of the summer night.
"Are you going straight back to your hotel?" said Vincent to Deering,
when Madame Davilliers had driven off.
"Yes; I shall return with Mr. Glynn, if he will allow me," courteously
to the latter, then abruptly to Vincent, "But I shall expect you
to-morrow at 10.30 or eleven. I want to hear more about this wonderful
colt."
"Very well; I will wish you good-evening.--Oh, by the way, Madame
Davilliers' address is 14, Rue de C----, in case you think of honoring
her Friday evenings."
"Thank you; good-evening." Then to Glynn, "Shall we stroll towards the
lakes? It is such a fine night, and we shall find a _fiacre_ nearer
town."
The two men walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then Deering
exclaimed, "One is prepared to pay for tips in racing matters, but not
quite so high a price as associating with such men implies; that is an
awful cad."
"He is; I was infinitely surprised when I saw you appear in the
character of his _protégé_ this evening. How did you come to know him?"
Deering laughed. "How did _you_?--but I forgot,--he is evidently a
popular member of your society. I--I met him in Count Latour's stables,
and found he was well up in sporting, or rather turf, matters. There is
very little _sport_ in them. He told me a thing or two, and may be of
use."
"I did not know you were going in for racing," said Glynn.
"I take a certain interest in it, and I thought you did." He paused,
lit a cigar, and then said abruptly, "Vincent tells me you know Miss
Lambert's father; in fact, that you are frequently his favored guest.
How does it happen that such a girl can be the outcome of a society
of bourgeois and sharpers? You must present me to this father when he
appears; I should prefer your sponsorship to Vincent's."
"Why do you want to know a set of people so completely out of your
line?"
"I have a motive, not a very high one, I confess, but sufficiently
powerful--curiosity. I want to find out something about Miss Lambert's
people and history, for I am certain I knew a relative of hers, many
years ago."
"Well, you had better fall back on your sporting acquaintance for an
introduction, he is much more intimate with Captain Lambert than I am."
"Ha! you refuse to be responsible for me? that's deuced shabby! So he
calls himself captain? He is rather a queer fish, isn't he?"
"That depends on our respective ideas touching queer fish. He is not a
highly-polished, courtly gentleman, but he is not a bad fellow; and he
is devoted to his daughter."
"Indeed! Well, Glynn, I believe you have seen a good deal of the world,
and it is pleasant to find that so much faith in your fellow-creatures
survives the experience."
"Faith is certainly a more agreeable sensation than doubt," returned
Glynn, unmoved. "By the way, I quite forgot I had an engagement this
evening. I am late already; there is a _fiacre_." He hailed it. "Will
you drive with me, Deering?"
"No, thank you; I shall enjoy my weed and a stroll, so good-night. I'll
look you up to-morrow or next day."
"Curiosity," murmured Glynn, as he rolled away towards Paris. "Is it
only curiosity? I wonder who Elsie's mother was? It seems too bad that
any unholy mystery should hang round so sweet and frank a creature";
and recalling the beautiful eyes which had looked up into his with
clear unconsciousness and unhesitating trust Glynn closed his own, and
gave himself up to some delightful though disquieting reflections.
"What infernal bad luck!" thought Deering, as he lit his cigar
viciously. "I did not dream of meeting that fellow. I never reckoned
on such an obstacle. However, cost what it may, I'll get to the bottom
of her parentage and history. If my suspicions are right, I must get
rid of her or bind her to me indissolubly; and the last would be the
pleasanter process. There is a wonderful charm about her, and yet at
times I can catch traces of _him_ too! I wonder who this father of hers
is? I must get at him. I wish I hadn't been obliged to send that cad
Vincent to the right-about so shortly, just to keep up appearances. It
is double distilled bad luck to have that fellow Glynn here. But if he
thinks he is going to make all the running with Miss Lambert, he is
considerably mistaken. She is lovely, so lovely that I almost forgive
her for existing."
* * * * *
Glynn waited impatiently for the moment when he could present himself
at Madame Davilliers' weekly reception. The reasons why he must
remain in Paris multiplied. He could not leave Elsie until her father
returned, and then he must stay until he got some clue to Deering's
schemes. That there was mischief brewing he felt convinced. Indeed,
he was inclined to believe that Deering did not intend giving his
real name when Vincent introduced him to Madame Davilliers and her
friends, but perceiving Glynn he had probably changed his intentions,
and telegraphed accordingly to his associate. Still, considering that
Deering bore a fair character, it was highly improbable he would be
guilty of any overt baseness.
On reaching Madame Davilliers', Glynn found about half a dozen
intimates already assembled. Monsieur's _partie_ at whist had been made
up in a small side-room, and in the _salon_ Mademoiselle Antoinette
and Elsie, assisted by the singing-master, were performing a trio.
Glynn waited till this was over to make his bow to the lady of the
house, enjoying from the corner where he had stationed himself an
uninterrupted view of Elsie's face, which had the rapt, far-away look
it always wore when she was singing. How sweet and noble her expression
was. No, he would not leave her, unless he felt sure she was safe and
her father forewarned. The trio ended, young Le Clerc pressed forward
with animated thanks. Then Elsie looked round, as if seeking some one;
when her eyes met Glynn's a bright, happy smile sparkled over her
countenance, and she made a movement as if to go to him. He was soon at
her side.
"You have some pleasant news, I am sure?" he said, as he took her hand.
"I have indeed. My father has returned; he will be here presently, and
he looks so well. He is so refreshed by the sight of the sea that he
says he will take me to Brittany, when it grows too hot in Paris."
"You will enjoy Brittany," said Glynn's voice mechanically, while the
real man was thinking what a heaven it would be were he alone with
her in Brittany, or Buenos Ayres, or Botany Bay, or any other spot on
earth, provided they were together, away from every one else. The next
instant he was reproaching himself for his weakness, his folly.
"I believe the scenery is very fine," Elsie was beginning, when she was
interrupted by the words, "Good-evening, Miss Lambert." Glynn had been
so absorbed in her that he had not observed the approach of Deering,
until he spoke. Elsie turned to him, still composed and smiling,
without any trace of the nervous dread which she had evinced at their
first meeting.
"I am in a strange land here," said Deering, when they had exchanged
greetings, "so I claim your protection; you must be my guide,
philosopher, and friend." He drew a chair forward as he spoke, and
Elsie sat down. "Are you a frequent attendant of these _soirées_,
Glynn?" he asked, after having bestowed a nod on his countryman. "You
are certainly fonder of innocent amusements here than in London!"
"It appears that Paris produces the same effect upon us both," returned
Glynn coolly.
"Monsieur Glynn," said Madame Davilliers, sailing up, "will you
come and speak to my old friend M. Le Colonel Dubois? He is a most
interesting person! He fought at Waterloo in the first year of his
service, and is all the fonder of your nation because they were gallant
foes."
So Glynn was carried off, to his great annoyance, just as Deering took
a seat beside Elsie, and seemed to settle himself for a long talk.
M. Le Colonel Dubois did not find the most attentive listener in
Glynn, and was not sorry when the host came to pay his compliments to
the octogenarian, and permitted his English guest to escape. Glynn
strolled into the next room, and found Miss Lambert still conversing
with Deering, with an air of interest too that surprised him. He did
not attempt to interrupt them, but stood watching an opportunity of
begging Madame Davilliers to ask Miss Lambert for another song. From
his position near the _portières_ between the two rooms he could see
the door leading to the vestibule. While he looked it opened, and
Lambert came in--Lambert in a gorgeous-colored waistcoat and a bright
necktie, for evening dress was not indispensable at Madame Davilliers'
receptions. There was a joyous twinkle in his eye, an irrepressible
air of success in his bearing. He saluted madame with much warmth,
and then looked round the room as if seeking his "Jewel." Suddenly
an extraordinary change passed over his face. The laughing, joyous,
humorous look vanished, and was replaced by a fierce, startled, angry
glare, like a wild creature suddenly roused to apprehension and
defiance, as if through the thin, smooth coating of lately acquired
domesticity, the savage nature of the untamed desperado had broken
forth all the more vehemently for its temporary slumber. Glynn saw that
his eyes were fixed on Deering, who was smiling and bending forward as
he spoke to Elsie. She did not heed him, for she had caught sight of
her father, and Deering, struck by her expression, turned to see what
had attracted her. Then his face changed too, his jaw closed with a
look of rigid determination, his steel-blue eyes lit up with a flash of
angry recognition. By an involuntary impulse Glynn started forward to
greet Lambert with a vague intention to assist him in recovering his
self-control--to aid Elsie's father in any way he could.
"Glynn," said Lambert, gripping his hand hard, "who--who is that
man--sitting there--by my--daughter?"
"He is Deering of Denham. Do you object to him?"
"No, why should I? Only I knew a Deering once--not a clean potato by
any means! This may not be the same--Ah, Elsie, my child! Come here,
keep by me."
"What is the matter, dear? You are not like yourself," she exclaimed,
as she came up and passed her arm through his.
"Not like myself! you are wrong there." Then with a sort of effort he
went straight up to Deering and said audibly in English, "We have met
before, sir, have we not?"
Deering, who was considerably the taller, looked down on him from the
ineffable heights of his social superiority, and replied deliberately,
"I have certainly had the pleasure of your acquaintance some years ago."
Then they stood silent, eye to eye--silent, yet exchanging deadly
defiance. Deering, the most self-possessed of the two, was the first to
speak.
"I fancy we have seen some changes since we met. Paris is not a bad
place to anchor in after a wandering life, especially when one has so
charming a companion as--Miss Lambert," adding the name after a slight
pause.
"How do you know my daughter?" abruptly.
"Your friend, Mr. Vincent, was good enough to present me," said Deering
calmly, with some emphasis on the name.
"My father seems to have found another acquaintance," said Elsie to
Glynn. "It is curious."
Glynn scarce knew what to say. It was probable that Deering had known
Lambert by some other name, known him under more doubtful circumstances
than even he (Glynn) had. The idea stung him with a sense of angry
pain. Deering was the last man to be trusted with such knowledge.
"Mr. Deering has been telling me about the lady of whom I remind him,"
resumed Miss Lambert. "She must have been very sweet and very charming,
but most unhappy; her husband was murdered. I was quite interested, but
I hope the likeness is not an evil omen."
"Impossible," cried Glynn. "Do not think of omens. Here comes Madame
Davilliers to ask you to sing; pray do not refuse."
While he spoke with Miss Lambert, Glynn noticed that her father and
Deering exchanged a few sentences in a low tone, and that Lambert,
although he had completely mastered his temporary disturbance, had by
no means recovered his spirits. A look of care and thought clouded his
brow, though he spoke with some animation to one or two acquaintances.
Deering on the contrary looked supremely calm, with something of
exultation in his cold, light eyes.
"Miss Lambert sings well," he said. "I am no great judge of music, nor
do I care for it, yet I should imagine that such a voice, such a style,
ought to be worth a good deal of money."
"I don't intend her to sell her songs," said Lambert, roughly. "And
now, Madame Davilliers, I'll wish you good-night. I'm a bit tired
after my journey. Elsie, get on your hat. I'll take her home with me
to-night, madame, with a thousand thanks for your good care."
Elsie rose from the piano, and cast an anxious look on her father. Then
she gave her hand to Glynn, bowed to Deering, presented her brow to
madame's kiss, and slipping her arm through Antoinette's, left the room.
"Let me see you soon," said Lambert to Glynn. "You do not return to
London just yet?"
"Not this week, at least."
"Suppose you breakfast with me to-morrow, Captain Lambert," said
Deering. "We'll smoke the pipe of peace, and talk over our adventures
by flood and field."
"Thank you," shortly, "I never breakfast away from home."
"Oh, indeed! Then I shall call on _you_, and pay my respects to Miss
Lambert at the same time," returned Deering in a tone of imperturbable
good breeding.
Lambert, who was making his adieux to Madame Davilliers, did not seem
to hear, but before he reached the door he turned quickly back, and
said in a constrained tone to Deering:
"I cannot breakfast with you, but I will call at your hotel to-morrow
morning at 10.30."
"That is wiser," said Deering, with quiet superiority.
Glynn was greatly struck by the significance of these words. What hold
had Deering over the wandering adventurer, who seemed as far removed
from the haughty English gentleman as the east is from the west?
He walked home revolving this question and others. Every day increased
the fascination which Lambert's daughter unconsciously exercised over
him; every day showed more and more clearly the unsuitability, nay,
from a common-sense point of view, the impossibility of allying himself
with so doubtful a character as poor Lambert.
On reaching his hotel, the _concierge_ handed him several letters, and
when safe within his own room he opened them. One proved to be from his
firm on business which compelled his immediate return to London.
He had seldom been so annoyed and irritated as by this unavoidable
necessity to quit the scene of the mysterious drama which interested
him so intensely. He might be prudent enough, mean enough, to shrink
from linking himself for life with a creature who was probably too good
for him, but he would not desert Lambert in a difficulty. He would
return as soon as possible and see him clear of Deering. Seizing his
pen he wrote a hasty line to the effect that he was obliged to run
over to London for a week, but would return without fail, adding his
private address. When this had been sealed, stamped, and directed to
Lambert, he rang and ordered his bill and a very early cup of coffee
next morning.
"The first train for Calais leaves at seven in the morning," said the
waiter. "There is an earlier one about five, I think, by the Dieppe
route, but you gain no time, for the _trajet_ is longer."
"Of course I will go by Calais," returned Glynn. "Do not fail to call
me in good time."