THE LETTER WITH THE TSARINA'S SEAL
John Manners was not the messenger bringing the pearls. Even if he had
been asked to bring them, he would not have accepted the responsibility
of escorting Claremanagh's "ewe lamb" across the Atlantic. He knew
more about those pearls than he wanted to know, for he had been in love
with Juliet Phayre before he began to like Claremanagh--to like him in
spite of himself, in spite of natural jealousy, and in spite of
prejudice. It was a mere coincidence that he should be on the same
ship with Monsieur Mayen's messenger, for with the return of Mayen from
Russia, Manners' friendly services for the Duke came to an end.
His services for France were ended also; and he was keenly interested
in his own emotions as he touched the bell on the front door of the
Phayre house. How would it feel to meet Juliet married--and married to
a man with whom fate had queerly forced him into friendship?
The front door was a very elaborate door. It was mostly composed of
old wrought iron so delicately carved as to be like iron lacework.
Silas Phayre had imported it from an ancient palazzo in Florence and,
characteristically, had it backed with modern plate glass. The inner
side of this crystal screen was curtained with creamy silk tissue, thus
forming a sort of mirror for any one waiting to enter. Manners gazed
vaguely at his reflection behind the pattern of wrought iron, and his
sense of humour noted that thwarted love had not made of him a haggard
wreck. Fighting in France had browned and hardened him. He was lean,
but far from frail. The dark tan on his face caused his yellowish hair
to seem straw-coloured in contrast, and his eyes boyishly blue. This,
and the khaki uniform he still wore, gave him an air of being younger
than he was--twenty-eight: and the man and his image were exchanging an
amused grin when a new reflection appeared in the glass. Mechanically
Manners turned, and found himself face to face with a woman. She had
paused at the foot of the marble steps, and hesitated, as if the sight
of someone on the threshold had upset her calculations. But at this
instant the door was thrown open--not by one of the imported English
footmen whom Manners knew of old, but by an elderly Japanese. The
yellow face gave Jack a shock, but he realized that British and
American youths had been better employed than as footmen since he
himself had gone to France.
The Japanese looked past the officer in khaki to the lady, whom he
appeared to recognize and even to be expecting. This look settled
matters for her. She decided to keep to her original plan. With a
slight inclination of the head to Manners, she stepped briskly into the
vestibule. Behind her, she left a faint trail of alluring fragrance.
Even Jack Manners, who disliked artificial perfumes, breathed it in
with pleasure. He had never smelled anything quite like it before; but
he thought of an eastern garden in moonlight, and the thrill of that
picture mingled with another thrill. He had recognized the woman. He
had seen her before, but only on the stage, and now she was veiled with
one of those patterned veils almost as concealing for an ordinary woman
as a mask. But this was not an ordinary woman. It was Pavoya, the
Polish dancer; the "divine Pavoya," the "diabolic Pavoya," according to
the point of view. Even lacking the green glint of slanted eyes, the
fiery glow of close-banded hair through the veil, that figure in the
plain black dress would have been unmistakable. Portrait painters,
photographers, post-impressionists, and caricaturists had rendered it
familiar, in all lands, to those who had not seen the dancer herself.
Manners could hardly believe in the truth of his swift impression. It
was almost incredible that she should come as a guest to this house.
Could she have made friends with Juliet? Juliet's cousin wondered.
The thing that happened next was still more strange. The slim siren in
black did not wait to be ushered in by the servant. She flitted from
vestibule to hall beyond, then vanished as if she knew where to go and
was in haste to get there. The Japanese did not turn his head to look
after her, but gave his attention to the man on the doorstep.
"I'm Captain Manners," said Jack. "I've come to see my cousin, the
Duchess. I suppose she is at home?" He supposed this, not only
because Juliet knew that he was due on the _Britannia_, and had cabled
her desire to see him at once, but also because Mademoiselle Pavoya
must have gone in by appointment. Even before the servant answered,
however, he read in the troubled dark face that something had gone
wrong.
"Please to walk in, sir," said the Japanese, in stiff, correct English.
"I have a note for you from Her Grace the Duchess. She was
unfortunately obliged to go out; but I think she hopes to be back
early. If you will kindly walk into the Persian room, sir, I will give
you the letter."
Well did Jack remember the Persian room! It had been Silas Phayre's
great fad and favourite, and during his life had been used as a smoking
room. Jack half expected to find Lyda Pavoya there, perhaps reading
another note from Juliet; but the wonderful room, with its rare tiles
and priceless rugs and exquisite old tapestries, was unoccupied. The
servant placed an envelope on an antique tray of Persian enamel, and
presented it with a bow. Then he went out unobtrusively, leaving
Manners to study with some interest the seal Juliet had used.
It seemed superfluous that she should use any at all, as the scrawled
address showed that the writer had been in haste; but the interesting
thing was the seal itself. It was Claremanagh's own seal, which he
kept for his private correspondence, and the ring with which he made it
had been given by the Tsarina of the Pearls to his
great-great-grandfather. Jack happened to know this, because the Duke
had ordered a copy made for Louis Mayen, with which to seal the box
containing the pledged pearls. Claremanagh had told Jack this story
before leaving France, and had pointed out the ring, which he
invariably wore. The design was an eye; and the motto underneath was,
"Je te regard."
"Must have given the ring to Juliet," Manners thought, as he opened the
envelope. He read:
DEAR OLD BOY:
Don't think me a beast to be out. I really couldn't help it. I was
dragged into accepting for a tiresome lunch party, given by a tiresome
female, in my honour: Emmy West's sister-in-law. Some story has been
started that I was jealous of Emmy (among other women!) with Pat.
_Nonsense_! But I knew, if I refused, what the creatures would say.
Besides, I couldn't be sure just when you'd turn up. And above all, I
wanted a chance to see you quite, quite alone. I've got lots of things
to tell you, that I couldn't tell any one else. If you call while I'm
away, as I expect, stop and see Pat, who is to lunch at home, as he's
got a bad cold. Then say you must go, as you have an engagement. That
will be true, because I now invite you to make an engagement with me.
But if he insists on your visiting us, before you go home to Long
Island, as he's sure to, do accept. You were horrid to answer my cable
with a refusal, and say you had to go at once to your own place to
decide on some silly old improvements you want to make. That's only an
excuse, Jack, because you didn't quite see yourself staying in the
house with Pat and me. But you are much too strong a man to mind a
little thing like that. I don't believe you were ever in love with me,
really. You just _thought_ you were, that's all, from knowing me when
I was a wee kid, and always being my _bestest pal_ whom I could count
on without fail.
Oh, Jack, I do count on you now, as I never did before. So you won't
fail me for the first time in your life, will you? I suppose this is
selfish of me, and "exactly like a woman" (as Uncle Henry used to say,
whenever I wanted to do anything he didn't want me to do), but I can't
help it. You'll see, when I tell you, why _nobody_ else can be of any
use to me in this trouble.
I _have_ to write all this, though I hope to meet you so soon; because
if I didn't, you might refuse Pat's most pressing invitation. And
where should I be then? Don't think for an instant that I'm tired of
Pat, and want a divorce or anything. It isn't that at all. I adore
him as much as ever. That's where the trouble comes in! But we've had
a _row_, and every day it will get worse. Why, even the seal ring,
which I'm using for this letter, has become a bone of contention--among
other things. This does need a seal, if ever a letter did, for it's
dreadfully indiscreet and unwifely, I suppose.
Already I've eased my mind a little by pouring out my woes to you, as
in old times. And now for that engagement with me, which I trust you
to keep. I am supposed to go to an "At Home," which I'm not sure isn't
given for me. All I am sure about is that I shan't be there. Instead,
I'll be in the Palm Room of the Hotel Lorne (where no one we know ever
goes for tea) at five o'clock. And I shall _wait for you_, so you'll
have to come. Afterward, if you haven't done it before, you can see to
sending all your things to our house for a visit of _at least_ a week.
But we'll talk of that!
Ever your affectionate cousin,
JEWEL.
P. S. You see, I haven't forgotten your old name for me. No one except
you ever called me his "Jewel."
When Manners had read this letter through, he sat with it for some
moments in his hand. Then, suddenly, he roused himself to realize that
it was not a document to flaunt in the open. He replaced it in the
envelope, which he slipped into an inner pocket of his khaki coat. Had
the Japanese told Claremanagh of his arrival, he wondered? Or had
there been some secret understanding between the Duchess and her
servant that Captain Manners should be left long enough in the Persian
room to read and put out of sight her sealed letter? Claremanagh had
his own confidential man, Nickson (known as "Old Nick"); why should not
Juliet have hers? There was no reason. Yet Jack hated to think that
the girl should be driven to a rather sordid expedient, and somehow
this thought dragged into his head another.
"By George!" he exploded aloud. Then he bit his lip. But the thought
could not be pushed away. Since Juliet was out, to whom was the visit
of Lyda Pavoya being made?
The Japanese seemed to be in the confidence of more than one person in
this house!