"We needn't speculate any more about that hundred pounds," I remarked.
There were no difficulties at the office. The next afternoon, at
half-past four, we took the place of the departed orchestra. The change
was pleasantly received by the majority of the guests. Mr. Grant,
however, while Rose was still in the middle of her introductory
pianoforte solo, stumped out of the room with his hand to his ear, and
Mrs. Cotesham deliberately turned her chair round and sat with her back
to us. On the other hand, Mr. Kinlosti, passing through the hall
leaning on his servant's arm, on his way from his bath, caught sight of
Rose at the piano and lingered. He whispered in his servant's ear, found
a chair and a table, and seated himself in a dark corner. Presently the
latter brought him from upstairs a pot of specially prepared tea and
some cigarettes. He remained there throughout the whole of our
performance, his eyes fixed upon Rose,--strange, uncanny eyes they were.
The corner he had chosen was close to where we were playing, and the
flavour of his Russian cigarettes and highly scented tea attracted
Rose's attention, so that more than once she turned and looked at him.
For the first time I saw a very faint smile part his thin lips.
"A conquest," I whispered to Rose, as I bent over her chair to move some
music.
She made a little grimace.
"All the same," she said, "I'd love some of his cigarettes."
That evening, just before the time fixed for the commencement of our
performance, another typewritten note was put into my hand, again
unsigned and undated. This is what I read:
It is my wish that if a person of the name of Kinlosti should
seek acquaintance with any of you, he should be encouraged.
Particularly impress this upon Miss Mindel.