"But I did not tell you the details. I have left all my money in the
hands of the Public Trustee, to divide amongst certain charities. As
private fortunes go, it is a fair one--but what a small sum to go to the
alleviation of this vast amount of human misery!"
"You could not have made a better use of it," said Contraras
appreciatively.
"To you, my dear friend, I have left twenty thousand pounds to devote to
whatever purpose you think fit. Of course you will apply that money to
the spreading of the propaganda."
"I much appreciate your kind thought, my dear Valerie; it is just like
you. But may the day be far distant when--"
She raised her hand. "We will speak no more of that, please. I wonder
what will be the result of to-night?"
"Success!" cried Contraras confidently. "Success!"
A few minutes later he rose to go.
"The Duchess will call for you in her carriage. Once arrived at the
Palace, keep under her wing for some time, so as to avoid suspicion.
Then seize your time and opportunity. Would you like me to come round
and see you before you start? But I shall look out for you at the
Palace."
For a moment she did not answer him, she was pursuing the train of her
own thoughts.
"I never told you I had my fortune told by a gipsy when I was sixteen.
Would you like to know what she predicted?"
"If you wish," replied Contraras politely. He had no respect for
gipsies or their prophecies.
"Ah, I see it won't interest you. I don't think you believe much in the
spiritual side of existence. Still, I will tell it; it will not take a
moment. Up to the present, it has come remarkably true. This gipsy,
she was a very old woman, predicted that I should have a very hard life
for some years, then would come some years of great good fortune, and
then--equally great tribulation."
Contraras smiled. "My dear child, she probably predicted precisely the
same things hundreds of times to her clients. The veil of the future is
not to be lifted by a wandering beggar-woman."
"Of course, I knew you would not be impressed, or perhaps you just say
it to cheer me."
She had forgotten his question--should he come and see her again before
she started for the Palace? He repeated it.
"No, my good friend, I would rather not. If all goes well, we shall
meet again often. If not, we will say good-bye here. A thousand thanks
for your friendship and kindness."
Could fanaticism go further? She was thanking this hardened old schemer
for his friendship and kindness--friendship and kindness that were ready
to sacrifice her at any moment for his own ends.