A WOMAN'S EYES
"Mademoiselle Pavoya, this is Captain John Manners, just back from
France: a cousin of the Duchess of Claremanagh's," said the manager who
was introducing Jack.
Lyda Pavoya lifted her drooping head a little--only a little, and fixed
upon Manners a pair of dark eyes. "A pair of dark eyes!" Simple
words, and a simple act. There are many women in the world with dark
eyes, and many had looked at John Manners. But these eyes of the
Polish woman----!
As they gave that upward look from under heavy lashes Manners felt
himself a traitor. He had heard all sorts of stories about Lyda
Pavoya. He had got an impression that she was a "tigress woman." And
then, the dancing that he had seen her do was wild and barbaric. But
to-night she was a swan.
Her eyes were dark, but not black or even brown. They were perhaps a
very deep, greenish grey, and extraordinarily luminous. Yes, that was
the word: luminous! "Brilliant" would be too hard. There was a
mysterious, moonlight sort of luminance between the black fringes of
the white lids, and the whole face--pale, delicate, with pointed
chin--was mysterious as only Polish or Russian faces are.
"Why does she look at me so?" Jack thought. It was almost as if she
guessed, because he was Juliet's cousin, why he had asked for this
introduction. He could not believe that she, who met so many people,
could recognize the man in evening dress as the officer in khaki she
had seen on the Phayre doorstep.
They were in a room at the theatre where Mademoiselle Pavoya received
privileged persons: a plainly furnished room, mostly grey except for
masses of flowers, and it suited her better than a background of
fantastic colour. Perhaps it was this greyness which made her stand
out so vividly, and seem of such vital, thrilling importance. She was
extremely quiet in manner, and her voice was low. Yet her quietness
was disturbing, like that of a summer night when lightning may leap
from a clear sky.
Manners was struck dumb by her. Something had flashed from her eyes to
his with that first look. It did not say merely, "I am a woman. You
are a man." It said--or seemed to say--"You are _the_ man. I am _the_
woman. We had to meet. And now--what?"
He tried to think that this was a trick of hers which she used on every
male worthy of her steel. But he could not believe it to be so. Her
perfume--that perfume of an Eastern garden by moonlight--had gone to
his head. No woman had ever produced such an effect upon him, though
they had exchanged but a few words, and those not memorable. Yet he
was not humiliated by his own surrender. In spite of all reason he was
convinced that she had been stirred by him as he by her.
The meeting was between Pavoya's dances, and she had not many minutes
to spare. Her manager had impressed upon Manners that the few she gave
were an immense concession. There was no hope of prolonging them. Her
call came. She had to go. Again eyes met with that shock to the
nerves. Suddenly Lyda held out her hand to Jack. Clasping it,
electricity flashed up his arm and stabbed at his heart. He felt her
start slightly, and his breath quickened.
For Juliet's sake, and the promise he had made, it was Manners' duty to
take instant advantage of his "luck" with Pavoya. But he was not
thinking about Juliet--or the promise. He was neither remorseful nor
triumphant. All he thought of or wanted as they talked in snatches was
to hold this woman, not to let her go till he had arranged to meet her
again. He must meet her again! He must know what she really was--what
they were to be in each other's lives. But he could not ask permission
to call. He was stupidly tongue-tied, and could not put words together
as he would have wished.
"Would you care to have supper with me at my house to-night?" she
asked, not taking her hand from his.
The invitation was so unexpected that Jack could hardly believe it had
been given. Yet he heard himself answering, "Yes, I should be
delighted."
"I am glad," she said, in her perfect English, with the pretty accent
that was part of her charm. "Perhaps you don't know where I live? I
have taken a house, furnished: Mrs. Lloyd-Jackson's house on Park
Avenue. You have been there? Supper will be at twelve. Till then----"
She was gone.
"By Jingo, you've made a hit, my boy!" chuckled Pavoya's manager.
It was all Jack could do to detach himself from thoughts of Lyda, and
go about Juliet's business between ten-forty and midnight. For the
first time in his life the prospect of seeing Juliet was distasteful to
him. He didn't want to see her, because she would ask him about Lyda
Pavoya, and in his present mood there was nothing he would hate worse
than discussing the Polish girl with his cousin. But he was as sorry
for Juliet as ever, and just as anxious to help her.
Desperately against the grain, he took a taxi and drove to the Phayre
house, which he found brilliantly lighted. The huge front looked so
gay that for a moment he hoped Pat had come back. But he asked for the
Duke, and was told gravely by Togo that His Grace was not at home. The
Duchess, however, was expecting Captain Manners.
Juliet was waiting, not in her boudoir, but in the Chinese room which
her father had loved. She no longer wore the dressing gown she had put
on when nursing her headache in the afternoon, but was dazzling in some
flame-coloured film over shot gold and purple tissue.
"You've had good news!" Jack exclaimed at sight of her.
"No, I've had none whatever," she said. "If possible, things are
worse. I know why you thought something good had happened. All the
lights, and this dress! But if you were a woman you'd understand.
I've realized that there's a fight in front of me. I want it to be a
silent battle. I don't wish people to know I'm fighting at all--till I
see what the end's likely to be."
"I do understand," Jack said. "You're a brave girl, and I believe the
end will be all right."
He hurried on to talk about Pat, and thus put off the bad moment when
she would question him about Pavoya. As nothing had been heard of the
missing one and Juliet seemed now even more anxious than angry, Jack
decided to confess having telephoned to all the hospitals. It was good
news, he insisted, that these enquiries had drawn blank, and he did his
best as a comforter by saying that Pat had probably gone off in a huff.
People who loved each other flew into rages more easily than those who
didn't care. Men of Pat's temperament didn't lie down quietly to be
trampled on by their wives. He'd write soon, or send word somehow when
his first fury had exploded. Or, at worst, he would communicate with
the bank, even if he didn't turn up for work there.
Meanwhile, however, Jack admitted that they mustn't let things slide
and merely "hope for the best." Would Juliet like to have a detective
engaged--a private one, of course--quietly to make enquiries, in the
very unlikely case that something queer had happened?
"Yes, I was going to suggest that," Juliet said in a hard, bright voice
which kept back tears. "What about that detective you spoke of--the
one who was with Pat and Defasquelle at the club?"
Jack hesitated. "Well, I think we'd better get a chap of our own. You
see, possibly _he_ was Pat's man, engaged for the--the pearl business.
He mightn't be able to work for us with a whole heart----"
"I know what you mean," Juliet caught Manners up. "Pat's man may know
where Pat really is, and lead us off the track, instead of on to it."
"It's just possible," Jack had to agree.
"Would you believe it," the girl veered abruptly to a new subject, "two
reporters have called to interview me about the _Inner Circle_ stuff?"
"Impudent beasts!" Manners lashed out. "Of course you didn't receive
them?"
"Jack, I _did_!" said Juliet. "I'll tell you why. Here in the house
I've got more and more proof against Pat--or against _that woman_."
Jack winced, but she was not looking at him: her eyes were full of
tears. "Still, I'm doing what you told me to do: I'm giving him 'the
benefit of the doubt.' Besides--I've my pride, just as Pat has his.
There's my father's name. In its way that's as good as the name of
Claremanagh, or all the dukes in Britain. I came to this room to-night
because Dad loved it so, and I felt as if he were here in spirit,
helping me to be strong. He was such a busy man, yet always he had
time for me! I can almost hear his voice saying, 'Steady, Jule!' as he
used to say when I was in one of my wild moods. I had those
newspapermen brought to me here. And I said to one what I said to the
other. I admitted that I'd seen the _Inner Circle_, and I supposed the
horrid rag meant _us_. But I simply laughed at the whole thing! I
told them Pavoya came to see _me_--something about her dance for the
Armenians: you know, the roof-garden show Nancy Van Esten's getting up.
I said the insinuation about the pearls was nonsense: that I'm an
expert, and that they're the realest things I ever saw. I talked about
Pat as if we two were the best of friends, and mentioned just casually
that he was away for a few days. I was as nice as I could be to the
men, though I longed to--to _kick_ them! I'm sure they both went off
to their horrid old newspapers to write beautiful things about the
family. Don't you think I did right?"
"Perhaps," said Jack. "If you don't mind being a bit _infra dig_."
"I don't mind anything," Juliet choked, "if only Pat comes back safely
and--and--if we can patch up some sort of a life together. If--I don't
have to break with him."
"Then you've given up those ideas you had this morning?"
"About divorce? No. I haven't exactly given them up. But they seem
far off now--when I'm so afraid for Pat. I've thought of a thousand
things that might have happened to him. Suppose he _does_ love me
really, and Pavoya is jealous? She'd be capable of _anything_. She
may have had him stabbed! That reminds me: you've met her?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"To tell me what she was like, of course! How you got on--what have
you got out of her?"
Jack felt suddenly antagonistic to Juliet. "I was with Mademoiselle
Pavoya about twenty minutes at most, and her manager was there, too,"
he said. "I got nothing out of her. What did you expect? All the
same you may take it from me, Juliet, you'll make a big mistake if you
imagine she has anything to do with Pat's not showing up. I'm sure she
hasn't."
"Oh! She's hypnotized you, too, has she?" snapped Juliet. "Pat wanted
to make me believe she was a _good woman_! Come with me into his
study, and I'll show you something. Then perhaps you won't be so quick
to defend her!"
This was worse than Jack's fears. He couldn't refuse to follow his
cousin. From everyone's point of view, that would be poor policy. But
he hated to go to Pat's study. He did not wish to see anything Juliet
had to show him there.
"If it's a letter, I won't----" he had begun when she cut him short.
"It isn't a letter! After the scolding you gave me at the Lorne, I
wouldn't glance at the _wildest_ love-letter of Pavoya's even if she'd
_printed_ it so large I could read every word across the room."
"I didn't give you a scolding," Jack defended himself. "I only said a
_man_ wouldn't do what you did--or some such thing as that."
"Yes. That's just what you did say." Juliet was unlocking the door of
Pat's study, of which she had the key.
"I never knew you not to do what you wanted to do because I or any one
else scolded you!"
"How hard you are to me, Jack!" she reproached him. "This is
different. And _I_ am different. I don't want to do anything a man
would think mean. I want to be fair to Pat, whatever happens. But
about the pearls I can't be fair to him and Pavoya both. I'm going to
show you why not."
As she spoke she went to Pat's desk, where things were wildly
scattered, as in his notorious carelessness he had left them. Jack
Manners' heart beat rather thickly as he remembered his last visit to
this room: how Defasquelle had come in; how he, Jack, had sat on the
club fender, very conscious during the scene which followed that Lyda
Pavoya must be hidden behind the curtains or the screen; how he had
advised Pat to do what Defasquelle asked; how Pat refused, and showed
the safe in the wall which was already open.
"Here's his seal ring," Juliet was saying. "I found it lying on the
desk. This is what I brought you in to see. Now take the ring in your
hand, please. Look at it closely, and tell me if you notice anything
odd."
As Jack took the ring, he recalled that Pat had pulled it off his
finger and given it to Defasquelle, telling the Frenchman to compare it
with the seals on the packet. Relieved that, for a moment, Juliet was
letting Lyda's name rest in peace, he examined the ring.
"I see nothing peculiar, unless a tiny bit of red stuff stuck in the
corner of the eye," he said.
"Ah!" cried Juliet, "I thought you'd see that! What do you think the
red stuff is?"
"Might be sealing-wax."
"That's just what it is. I used a magnifying-glass to make sure.
Which showed me something else, too. But I haven't quite come to that
yet! Pat never seals his letters with red wax. He dislikes red
things: you know yourself he always uses grey-blue wax. He said it
reminded him of my eyes! You saw the packet Defasquelle brought from
France?"
"Yes."
"Then you know it was sealed with five red seals. I have the box and
wrappings upstairs, if you don't remember."
"I do remember."
"Very well. You can guess what I'm driving at?"
"I suppose I can."
"Good! Now for the other thing the magnifying-glass told me. But
no--take it yourself. There's a scratch across the eye on the ring.
You see it?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who was supposed to have sealed up the packet?"
"Mayen, of course: with a duplicate ring Pat had made for him on
purpose."
"Yes, a duplicate. But _would the scratch have been copied_? It shows
on all five seals of the packet. I looked through the magnifier."
"Juliet! You accuse Pat----"
"Or Pavoya. I said it must lie between him and her."
Jack did not answer at once. He saw the sinister importance of this
discovery which Juliet had made. His mind rushed back to yesterday.
Lyda Pavoya had been left alone in the study, for how long he did not
know. But Pat had given her a chance to get away. He had made an
excuse to show both men something in the Chinese room next door. Then,
when Defasquelle pleaded an engagement, Pat had rung for Togo to guide
the Frenchman out. A little later Jack also had gone. What Pat had
done after that, who could tell? His own man Nickson, perhaps, or one
of the other servants. Jack pushed the name of Lyda Pavoya violently
out of his mind. He would not ask himself what she knew about Pat's
next movements and about the red seals.
When these thoughts had shot through his head, bringing actual bodily
pain, he drew a long breath, and forced himself to speak. Juliet was
waiting! "It's very necessary to have a detective to tackle this
business," he said. "I realize that fact more than ever now. It's
essential for Pat's own sake, if--for no one else's. A sharp chap may
be able somehow or other to pulverize this beastly theory you're
forming, Juliet. He'll make tests for fingerprints on the safe in the
wall. If there are others besides Pat's, of course----"
"And Lyda Pavoya's!"
"It's not worthy of you to spring to such conclusions!" Manners broke
out before he could control himself. He expected Juliet to retort
furiously, but she did not. She merely looked piteous--and young.
"Jack," she said, sadly, "what am I going to do if that woman takes
_you_ away from me as well as Pat?"
"Nonsense," he bluffed. "I hope I shall show that she hasn't taken
Pat--or anything of yours. You don't _want_ her proved guilty, I
suppose?"
"Not unless she is. But I'd rather it would be Pavoya than Pat. And
it seems as if it must be one or the other."
"It seems so to _you_--now. But wait."
Juliet looked at him anxiously. "Can you think of any one else to
suspect?"
"I haven't had much time to think yet," said Jack. "To-morrow morning
early, I'll get the best private detective in town: one who won't talk.
Meanwhile, we must be patient. I suppose, of course, you've questioned
Nickson about his master?"
"That was one of the first things I did. Poor old Nick was almost
bowled over when I said I feared that something had happened to his
adored one. I didn't mention the pearls--naturally!--or that I thought
Pat might have disappeared of his own accord. I watched Nick's face to
see what he _knew_. I don't think he has an idea where Pat has gone.
But--Jack, _he knows something_--something wild horses wouldn't drag
out of him. I feel--I have a _flair_--it's about Pavoya. I've an idea
Nick has taken messages. Togo has been bribed by her, too, I'm sure.
And he won't speak. The woman is like Circe, with men of all sorts and
classes. She has but to look at them to turn them into beasts!"
"The woman" had looked at Jack. But she had not turned him into a
beast. He had never felt less like a beast in his life than he felt at
this moment! Yet--saint or Circe--by some magic she had won his
loyalty. "Wild horses" would not have dragged her secrets from
Nickson, Juliet said, and Jack believed she might be right. As for
him, he would have had his tongue cut out sooner than tell his cousin
that he was engaged to sup at Lyda's house. And it was almost time to
go!
What excuse could he make for leaving Juliet abruptly, without hurting
her? He would not hurt her for a great deal. But he would hurt her if
he must, rather than be late!