"Ah, Mr. Knox," exclaimed Madame as I entered, "have the others
deserted, then?"
"Scarcely deserted, I think. They are merely straggling."
"Absent without leave," murmured Val Beverley.
I laughed, and drew up a chair. Madame de Staemer was smoking, but Miss
Beverley was not. Accordingly, I offered her a cigarette, which she
accepted, and as I was lighting it with elaborate care, every moment
finding a new beauty in her charming face, Pedro again appeared and
addressed some remark in Spanish to Madame.
"My chair, Pedro," she said; "I will come at once."
The Spanish butler wheeled the chair across to the settee, and lifting
her with an ease which spoke of long practice, placed her amidst the
cushions where she spent so many hours of her life.
"I know you will excuse me, dear," she said to Val Beverley, "because I
feel sure that Mr. Knox will do his very best to make up for my
absence. Presently, I shall be back."
Pedro holding the door open, she went wheeling out, and I found myself
alone with Val Beverley.
At the time I was much too delighted to question the circumstances
which had led to this tete-a-tete, but had I cared to give the matter
any consideration, it must have presented rather curious features.
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