Chapter 23

"Oh, it's lovely, lovely, lovely!" sang Joan Tallentire, clapping her hands, and whirling dervish-fashion around the room.

A radiant day or so in Paris had acted on her as sunshine acts on a flower, when the petals expand, the colour deepens, and the perfume exhales. What observer, casual or close, would have recognised in this eager-eyed and sparkling girl the timid companion of Lady Canvey? For weeks she had associated with the octogenarian; many months had she superintended the well-being of pauper hags in Lambeth slums; and in the nursing of an ailing mother many precious years had been expended. No wonder the fire of being burnt low; no marvel that for long the eyes had lacked lustre and the cheeks colour. It was truly a case of the old eating the young--stealing by contact, as it were, the vitality of youth to reanimate waning life.

Now Lady Jim, playing fairy-godmother, had transformed this Cinderella, and the grub of Lambeth soared a splendid dragon-fly. The spring, long delayed in its coming, sang in her veins. With stimulating company, amidst novel surroundings, and with tempting food for satisfying physical and moral appetites, came the renascent period. Joan felt the burden of artificial years slip from her shoulders; her quick blood, responding to its environments, rose to fever heat. One cloud alone necked the sunshine of pleasure's dawn.

"I wish Lionel was here," she sighed.

"A Pagan in the temple, a Jew in the church," said Lady Jim, shrugging. "My dear, Paris was invented for clergymen to rail at, not to enjoy."

"Lionel is not narrow-minded, Lady James. He approves of innocent amusements."

"Magic-lanterns and penny readings. I fear Paris cannot supply those dissipations. You can enjoy them under the honeymoon. Meanwhile Mr. Askew is less exacting and more amusing."

"There is no one like Lionel--no one."

"I grant that, else would the world be innocent and dull."

Joan pursed up her pretty lips and wrinkled a smooth brow. "I don't understand that," said she, meditatively.

"No," assented Leah, with a slow and somewhat envious look; "you never will."

"Why not?"

"I could give you fifty reasons, but three will do. You are good and kind and healthy-minded to excess--an angel, whose white wings flutter above the mire in which we bipeds grovel. Quite the wife for our unsophisticated padre. St. Sebastian and St. Cecilia--surely a marriage arranged in heaven."

Miss Tallentire could not quite follow Leah's flights--not an infrequent occurrence. Nevertheless, her intuition espied a compliment.

"Do you really mean that?"

"As I rarely mean anything. Let me be candid for once, since we converse in the nursery, and say that I respect Lionel and I respect you."

"I would rather have love," suggested the girl, timidly.

Leah touched her breast with eight finger-tips. "From----" Then in response to an answering blush: "My dear, I love no one but myself."

"I can't believe that, or you would not have bothered to bring me to Paris."

"Merely the desire for a new sensation. I assure you, as Lionel assured me, that all my virtues spring from the Ego."

"What is the Ego?"

"Leah Kaimes in this instance."

"I don't think you are selfish," persisted Joan; "if you really and truly were, you would not say so."

"Oh, but I should; that is my refined form of self-love. When I cry aloud my imperfections, I receive some such compliment as you have paid. Then little god Ego, sitting within my breast, sniffs up the incense."

"In that case I am selfish, too. I like to be told nice things."

"And to be given nice things, such as---- Well, I expect Lionel, in spite of clerical propriety, can explain better than I, and," added Lady Jim, mischievously, "in dumb show. My dear, your Ego is shaped like a good young padre; you are merged in Lionel--swallowed up, as some one's rod swallowed up some one else's. I suppose now"--Leah nursed her knees with clasped hands--"I suppose when you marry St. Sebastian, you will be wildly happy in a dull country rectory, wearing twice-turned gowns and last year's hats, and fussing after old women and grubby village urchins, with your husband's sermons for relaxation when penny readings pall."

"Quite happy," assented Joan, laughing at the over-coloured picture--"with Lionel, of course."

"As I say: your Ego is his Ego. Dear!" and Lady Jim dropped two impulsive kisses on her companion's cheeks. Joan wondered at this uninvited display of affection, and wondered still more when Leah turned away with a somewhat bitter laugh. Perhaps, had she guessed the truth, her sympathy would have extended to this woman, whom self-love isolated from humanity.

It pleased Leah to pose as this simple maid's providence, and on the whole she sustained her deity excellently. Many a time did she check her free-spoken and sharp tongue, lest Joan should feel hurt, or become precociously enlightened about those sins which are dubbed idiosyncrasies in society. The amusements provided were primitive and commonplace, as befitted the retirement of a newly made widow and uncultured d�butante tastes. Drives in the Bois; visits to the Louvre, to Versailles, to Notre Dame--on the tail of Hugo's romance--to P�re Lachaise; many inspections of many delightful shops, one concert at least, and the exploration of places which had to do with the picturesque history of France filtered through Baedeker and Murray. Leah, unused to bread and milk, thought the majority of these outings insipid; but Joan enjoyed them immensely, and wondered at Continental dissipation. Her ignorance credited Leah with loving, and invariably leading, this Cook's-tourist life when abroad; and that lady laughed frequently, in the seclusion of her bedroom, at the idea of being limited to nursery geography. Nevertheless, she did not undeceive her ing�nue; the bloom, if she could prevent it, should not be brushed too early from this peach. Which reticence and determination showed that Lady Jim had in her some soul of that goodness which lives in things evil.

Askew duly arrived forty-eight hours later, so that his meeting with Leah might appear unexpected. He called daily at the Hotel Henri Trois, and on a hint from Lady Jim devoted attention to Joan the maid. Leah herself philandered in a business-like way with M. Aksakoff, who, strange to say, followed Askew's trail on important business. Lady Jim enjoyed many interesting conversations with him, dealing with a quiet obliteration of Demetrius, if he should by any chance walk into the trap. Joan and her cavalier, good surface readers, did not guess at the elements working below, and so danced unsuspectingly on a volcano. The fickle sailor was now lukewarm in his affections, and, as Leah purposed dropping him gradually as soon as Demetrius was on his way to Siberia, she was not ill pleased to watch red-hot passion cool to ashen-grey friendship. Certainly it still remained to withhold him from seeking a foreign wife over-seas, but she postponed schemes of prevention pending the disposal of immediate troubles. Sometimes it occurred to her that Askew, a man of tow like all sailors, might catch fire from contact with Joan; but, player as she was with the hearts and brains of men, she cherished sufficient friendship for Lionel to forgo a possible spoiling of his sober romance. There was little danger that Miss Tallentire would exchange Church for Navy, but that the juxtaposition of an artless maid and an inflammable bachelor might not breed fickleness, Lady Jim wrote a letter. "Why not come over and escort us back to town?" ran this epistle. "Also, in Paris you will assuredly find material for a sermon on the wickedness of that great city Nineveh,--I believe you parsons give Western towns Eastern names, when you wish to abuse them--to avoid libel actions, maybe." Then followed the mention of the rope to drag this clerical lover across Channel. "Do come, if only to see how Joan enjoys the society of Mr. Askew."

The expected happened on the fifth day of Lady Jim's sojourn in Paris, when, shortly after noon, Demetrius, obviously disordered in dress and mind, presented himself in the character of a bolt from the blue. Luckily, Askew was translating to Joan the Luxor hieroglyphics in the vicinity of the Place de la Concorde Obelisk, so that she had an hour to explain away the rumours which had undoubtedly brought him over. When the sitting-room door clicked behind him--he facing her with black looks--she drew a deep breath to brace for the fight, and heard, what he did not, the snick of prison bolts shot home. So far, lured by the will-o'-the-wisp, jealousy, he had followed recklessly the dangerous path; now it remained for her to conduct him to the precipice, over which she and Aksakoff intended he should be thrown. A trifle of acting was necessary to reassure the venturesome and perhaps suspicious traveller.

"M. Demetrius! Are you mad?"

"Not Constantine, then." He panted like a spent runner, and his face twisted in a wry smile.

"What do you mean?"

Demetrius dropped heavily into the nearest chair, and sent angry, inquiring glances into every corner. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"Oh, madame"--he became sarcastic here--"you know very well, I think."

"I know nothing, save that you are foolish to venture into Paris, where there is a price on your head. M. Aksakoff is here, too; if he knew--if he guessed."

"Well, what matter? I have run greater risks for lesser reasons."

"Yet they must be strong ones in the present instance, to make you enter the bear's den."

"I have one reason for my venture, madame--you; and another--Mr. Askew; not to speak of a third--this marriage at your Embassy."

"I can understand the first; the second may be explained by wholly unnecessary jealousy; but the final one--this marriage you speak of?"

"Between yourself and Mr. Askew."

Lady Jim stared, then laughed good-humouredly. "My dear Constantine, the idea is too ridiculous."

"I have the news on good authority."

"Which is the last authority you should believe. Mr. Askew is certainly here; but not, I believe, in the character of a bridegroom."

"Mrs. Penworthy"

"Oh!" Leah's scorn was worthy of the great Sarah. "Mrs.--Penworthy?"

"She told me that you came here; that Mr. Askew followed----"

"Forty-eight hours later. Quite correct."

"And that you intended to marry him at the British Embassy."

"Really! I never knew that Mrs. Penworthy was imaginative."

"It is not true!" His eye probed her.

She did not flinch. "You must be mad to think so."

"It is not true?" he persisted.

"You yourself have denied the truth of it twice. Mr. Askew at this moment dances round Miss Tallentire's skirts. Would I permit that, if----? Oh, ridiculous! You men swallow camels."

Her dupe rose to pace the room, and to pour out the anger of many brooding hours. "It is not true--ah, if I could only be sure of that. This woman--this Mrs. Penworthy--she swore--swore--that you--that you----" He choked, flung himself headlong to where she smiled contemptuous, and seized her hands vehemently. "Swear that it is false!" He dropped on his knees, almost tearful.

"I do swear," rejoined Leah, disengaging her wrists. "You can take Mr. Askew back to London if you like. He is engaged to marry a lady in South America. There is nothing between us--nothing. A flirtation, yes; banter and pretty smiles, idle nothings and surface conversations." She smoothed back his hair and smiled playfully. "Am I marrying Othello?"

"You are so beautiful," he muttered, wavering.

"In your eyes, no doubt. Mr. Askew prefers brunettes south of the Equator. But!"--she rose suddenly, as though she spurned him--but "I prefer trust. I am angry--yes, very angry. Oh, that you should doubt me--doubt me!" Her tragic assertion was admirable.

"I do not--I do not"; and he still grovelled, catching at her dress.

"Your presence here proves otherwise. Mr. Askew, indeed--a general lover, a volatile sailor with a wife in every port for all I know. Can you not credit me with more exclusive tastes?"

"He is handsome," muttered the still suspicious doctor, and rose, brushing his knees mechanically.

"Is he? So you think I am to be won by looks, like a schoolmiss in her teens"; she looked at his sharp white face, and laughed cruelly. "That I am engaged to you should prove differently."

He scarcely heeded her. "Swear! Swear!" and his eyes flamed.

Leah, calculating the effect, lost her temper. "I shall in a moment," she cried angrily. "The most patient of women--of whom I am not one--have their limits. Why do you allow jealousy to overrule common sense, when the position is so plain? You fixed your price and fulfilled your part of the bargain. Am I, I ask you, free to play you this trick of a hasty marriage, when you can expose me as privy to a fraud? You see that I do not mince matters; I speak plainly, do I not? You have all the winning cards, and can compel me to become your wife, even if I dissented. Why, then, do you come here on a fool's errand?"

"But I love you so," he protested piteously.

"And love, being blind, makes you stumble into danger. I think you had better return to England by the night train."

"Am I to leave you with Mr. Askew?"

"Oh, take him with you; I gave you permission before. And pray don't make scenes--I dislike them."

"Then I am wrong?"

"Faugh! If you doubt my word, perhaps you will take Mr. Askew's. He will be here soon with Miss Tallentire. I decline to defend a position which requires no defence."

A shrug ended this speech, and this, in conjunction with the anger brightening her hard blue eyes, reduced him to profuse apologies.

"But indeed, my soul, you should not be enraged; that I should risk what I do risk surely proves my love for you."

"You have proved it before by getting me the insurance money," she replied impatiently; "pray return at once. I can see you in Curzon Street when I return on Tuesday."

"Then you promise to marry me."

"Yes!" Leah heaved a sigh of exhaustion. "How often do you wish me to say so? Even if you remain Dr. Demetrius I am bound to become your wife, seeing that you hold my reputation in your hands. Though of course," she added sweetly, "I expect to be Princess Constantine Demetrius."

"I am willing--believe me, I am willing," he stuttered, now quite positive that Mrs. Penworthy was a liar of the worst. "Aksakoff----"

"What of him?"

"Did you not say that he would aid me to regain my position, if I gave up Katinka?"

"He said something like that," she rejoined carelessly, and wondering why at this moment he recalled the proposition. "But I rather fancy his offer was merely to leave you alone."

Demetrius looked silently at the carpet. Leah watched him with a doubtful look, on her guard against complications. He looked up suddenly, and with rather a shamed face. "Certainly I could secure the services of Mademoiselle Aksakoff," he murmured; "but it seems cruel to use her influence and then to leave her. She loves me. Ah, yes, she loves me very truly, and I--I treat her most badly."

"If you think so, why not make amends and marry her?"

"Because I love you, and at great risk I have bought you." He glared at her savagely. "I refuse to let you go; you are mine--mine."

"I never denied that," said Lady Jim, dryly; "but I really cannot accompany you to Siberia, and if you remain here----"

"Wait!" He flung up an imperative hand. "I shall see Aksakoff."

This sounded almost too good to be true, and Leah doubted. "No!"

"Yes. Ah, my adored, I know how you feel for my safety"; his voice took on a caressing tone. "But--it is nothing"; he brushed away imaginary danger with a rapid gesture. "I shall see him. I shall plainly surrender Katinka, and then--then, when he knows that we--you and I--are to marry, he will interest himself with the Czar, on our--you mark me, my angel--on our behalf."

"It's a mad idea, impracticable. You dare not trust Aksakoff."

"Ah, bah! He will not arrest me publicly--he cannot. The scandal--the diplomatic storm--the newspapers. No, no!--it is too absurd. Besides"--he shrugged--"this tender father will repay me if I give his daughter to understand that we can never marry. He desires her to be the Countess Paul Petrovitch."

"Hum!" said Lady Jim, rejoicing that the prisoner judiciously saw to the closing of the door, before turning to meet Aksakoff's inquiring gaze. "You approve of a full table, madame?"

"There is safety in numbers," she assured him.

"For M. Demetrius?"

Leah resumed her seat with raised eyebrows. "I fear you will think me dull, M. Aksakoff, but I do not understand."

The diplomatist bowed an apology. He had forgotten that even in private her comedy was to be played by the book. The conversation of the next few minutes he foresaw very plainly. She would play round the reason for their meeting, without coming to grips, mysteriously conveying her meaning in speeches which she did not mean. Only a politician of Aksakoff's subtlety would have understood the unsaid from what she now proceeded to say.

"Besides"--she was continuing the speech interrupted by his bow--"you promised that no harm should come to the doctor."

"Madame, I renew that promise."

"I hope so; otherwise, I shall regret having consented to this meeting."

"Yet I understood that M. Demetrius desired it."

"That is no reason why I should consent."

"Possibly not. Still, as a peacemaker----"

"You put me into the Beatitudes, then?"

"Why not, if you achieve your object in reconciling enemies?"

"The signing of the treaty depends upon you, M. Aksakoff."

"Consider it signed--on conditions."

"Which means that it is not signed. H'm! M. Demetrius is anxious, even willing, to renounce your daughter."

A dull red stained Aksakoff's opaque skin. "How flattering to my fatherly pride! There is, then"--the hint was delicate--"another?"

Lady Jim retorted in kind. "So you said at Monte Carlo."

"Mademoiselle Ninette? I believe I did. She lured him to Paris, then?"

"How should I know? He has never mentioned the creature's name to me, nor would he dare to. He came, so he declares, to see me."

"On matters connected with your recent loss, no doubt."

"It is more than probable."

Her avoidance of the necessary topic exasperated him. Sharp words were on the tip of his tongue, but wisdom withheld them. His accomplice was not the woman to yield to dominance, and the merest hint of its exercise might, probably would, engender wrath likely to jeopardise the almost achieved plot. Money or no money--Aksakoff still ascribed mercenary reasons--her pride would never bend to the yoke of advice. To be silent was his second thought, and silent he became. This, it would seem, was wise, since she began to explain, Aksakoff paying out liberally the necessary rope that she might hang herself.

"M. Demetrius is unwise to come here. I told him so; yes, I confess--remember my warning--that I betrayed you. All the same--very foolishly, I think--he insisted upon an immediate meeting, to recover his birthright, he says. Can you arrange for the rehabilitation, of this exiled Esau?"

A faint smile played round the diplomatist's thin lips, "I can!"

"And you will?"

"Assuredly, if M. Demetrius disabuses Katinka of her infatuation."

"That is his affair and yours. No doubt"--she spoke meaningly--"you will wish to speak to him privately?"

"There is no need, madame, seeing that you are in his confidence, and in mine. Besides"--very slowly--"we can converse over our tea."

Lady Jim's nerves jumped. "Over tea," she echoed equally slowly--"tea, after luncheon?"

"It is a Russian custom. M. Demetrius and I are Russians. Still, if the suggestion appears presumptuous"--he waved his hand with assumed deprecation--"I withdraw it and apologise."

"No!" She passed her tongue over dry, white lips, and answered faintly. "You shall have your--tea." Then, rising hurriedly, she made for the near window on an obvious excuse. "I do not see him coming."

As plainly as though Aksakoff had put it into words did Lady Jim know that he intended to drug their victim. What would occur if this plotter succeeded she did not know; what might occur she shivered to think of, and the thought made her rash. "The police!" she murmured, turning from the window.

M. Aksakoff joined her, adjusting his pince-nez leisurely, and proceeded to look up and down the street, two stories below. "I do not see the police, madame. But what a delightful day! I trust the night will be equally mild, since I journey to Havre."

"You go to Havre--to-night?" breathed Leah, not yet herself.

"By a moderately late train. My cousin, Count Petrovitch, is there with his yacht. We have to talk about his possible marriage with my daughter, before he leaves to-morrow for Kronstadt."

"Oh!" sighed Lady Jim, very white. "How--how--amusing!" and after misusing the word, she went back to her chair with geographical thoughts. Paris--Havre--Kronstadt--Siberia; and Demetrius. "Oh!" sighed she again, with a trembling hand shielding her eyes.

"You are ailing, madame," cried Aksakoff, hastening to her politely.

"Starving!" replied Leah, with a wry smile. "Hush!"

The warning hissed through the chatter of Joan and Askew, who entered, almost riotously happy. Their exuberant manners and frank speech brought a wholesome breeze of cleansing honesty into the atmosphere of stale rascality. The bracing wind blew Lady Jim out of dark chambers into the day-lit spaces of the commonplace. With the protean capability of women she flashed as a sun from passing storm-clouds, to shine on the honest and hungry.

"Thanks awfully for your invitation to luncheon," said Askew.

"Which you forgot."

"Did I ever receive it?" he asked doubtfully.

"Did not my last remark imply the invitation. Remarkable!"

So irrelevant sounded the last word that Aksakoff queried its reason.

"Not that a man should forget an invitation," she explained; "but that a single meal should escape his greedy memory."

"You make me out to be a gourmet," hinted the invited guest.

"Why not a gourmand? One speaks French in Paris."

"Not invariably, since we now converse in English," said Askew, dryly; and she approved of the retort. Clearly he was rapidly recovering from the green-sickness of crude passion.

Meantime Joan instructed Aksakoff in ancient history. "The hieroglyphics on the Place de la Concorde Obelisk describe the triumphs of Rameses II., who reigned over Egypt in the fourteenth century before Christ. Mr. Askew knows him."

"Indeed?" smiled Lady Jim. "Is he stopping in Paris?"

"Miss Tallentire means to say that I know 'of him.'"

"Well, I said so. But my English is faulty."

"Mr. Askew will surely improve it. His knowledge of hieroglyphics----"

"The guide-book's knowledge, Lady James," corrected Askew.

"Hum! Information while you wait--Murray and Baedeker's extract of history--archeological tabloids."

"What felicitous phrases!"

"Sarcasm! That surely means--convalescence."

"You have been ill then, monsieur"; Aksakoff addressed the colouring young gentleman.

"Heart-disease," flashed Lady Jim, gaily--"Ah, M. Demetrius!"--and so did her ex-lover out of a retort. "You know Miss Tallentire--Mr. Askew; they were at Firmingham, if you remember. And M. Aksakoff, who will doubtless recall Dr. Demetrius."

"Say Prince Constantine Demetrius, madame.

"You place me too high," said the doctor, bowing stiffly. "Out of Russia I am but a simple physician."

"And a remarkably clever one, according to this lady."

"Madame flatters. I failed, where I should have succeeded."

Leah murmured a sharp aside, reproving the professional humility which necessitated an allusion to her loss. A bowing waiter entered before the doctor's apologetic shrug could be followed by words.

"Madame is served," said the waiter, and the lift lowered five hungry people to the dining-room.

Says a disciple of Brillat-Savarin, with solemn truth and the infallible judgment of experience, "Breakfast in Scotland, lunch in America, and dine in Paris." Circumstances prevented Lady Jim from dispensing Boston hospitality, but having supervised the ideas of the Henri-Trois chef, she placed a very dainty and tempting repast before a quartette almost too hungry to be critical. Nor was wanting wine, chosen with masculine discretion, to loosen rusty tongues and release fair thoughts embedded in slow brains. But this latter adjective must be taken--very appropriately at table--with a grain of salt. None of those who ate and drank were dull; three of them, indeed, were much too clever, and the remaining two made up in sparkle what they lacked in depth. Many good things were eaten and said during that merry meal, and the corner near the large window bubbled with laughter. Leah, watching stealthily the courtesy of Aksakoff and his fellow-countryman, shivered internally at the irony of circumstances. Paris--Havre--Kronstadt--Siberia: the four names repeated themselves dolorously in her brain like a street cry. What wonder, then, that the spectacle of this tragic comedy made her laugh and babble, and smile and nod, and play to perfection the r�le of an attentive hostess. She was quite glad that what would prove in all probability to be her victim's last civilised meal was appetising. Aksakoff professed himself charmed with her esprit. Here, thought he, were the makings of an ideal conspirator, and he regretted her nationality. The Anglo-Saxon nature is so alien to working mole-fashion. Yet, had he only known the truth, Lady Jim had already proved her willingness to conspire, if not against a throne, at least for the cheating of a limited company.

The luncheon was thus pleasant, and not less so the digestive hour, when the repleted guests assembled in the sitting-room. Anxious to afford the diplomatist every assistance, Lady Jim gathered the young people under her wing near the piano at the far end of the apartment. Joan, who had more of a soul than a memory for music, played scraps, chatting to right and left while her nimble fingers ran from Mozart to Chopin and attempted what their owner remembered of Wagner's creations. Thus the Muscovites, smoking by special permission, were enabled to exchange views in comparative privacy. To assure complete secrecy, and with the hole-and-corner instinct of the Slav, they talked Russian with a bluntness strangely opposed to Lady Jim's elusive suggestiveness. The situation--to Demetrius, at least--did not admit of sugared phrases or ambiguous explanations.

"Madame yonder"--he nodded towards Leah--"told you why I desired this interview."

"Yes!"--Aksakoff handled his cigarette daintily--"but an explanation from you is necessary."

Demetrius nodded brusquely. "I must mention the name of your daughter."

"Without doubt, since her welfare is the main object of our meeting."

"Mademoiselle Aksakoff," said Demetrius, coldly, "has done me the honour to admire me. But that my affections are already engaged, I should certainly reciprocate."

"You allude to Mademoiselle Ninette?"

A look of surprise flitted across the other's face. "The actress? Why should you think so?"

"Rumour credits you with being her lover."

"And, as usual, rumour is wrong. Mademoiselle Ninette was assuredly my patient, but I received my fees in gold, not in kisses. As poor Dr. Demetrius I I cannot live on love, Ivan Aksakoff."

"Prince Constantine will be able to do so with the lady he mentions."

"I mentioned no lady."

"Ah, pardon!" Aksakoff was foiled. "You accept my apology?"

"None is needed. I intended to tell you the name of the lady, Ivan Aksakoff; it is madame yonder."

With uplifted eyebrows the diplomatist glanced in the direction of Leah.

"I heard something in London clubs of your admiration for her, Constantine Demetrius; even before her husband died it was said that you had laid yourself at her feet. What a pity you cannot marry her! An ideal match, my friend; quite ideal, and so useful in promoting a social understanding between Holy Russia and these islanders."

"We marry in a year," announced the doctor, calmly.

"Ah, no; but pardon me, it is impossible!" Aksakoff, really and truly startled, dropped his cigarette. That haughty Lady James Kaimes should---- "It is quite impossible," said he, staring.

"I refer you to the lady herself," insisted Demetrius.

"A-a-a-h!" droned the other, picking up his cigarette to place it in the ash-tray, and lighting another; "y-e-s!" He stared again at his companion, then stole a glance at Leah. Apparently her desire to assist Muscovite politics was not entirely a question of pounds, shillings, and pence. She was less sordid and more subtle than he had guessed.

Demetrius, giving him no time to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, went on with his explanation. "You will, therefore, understand that my marriage with your daughter is out of the question."

"Of course," assented Aksakoff, absently, and wondering why Lady Jim engaged herself to this exile. "Of course," he added more briskly, "I trust you will permit me to announce this engagement to my daughter."

"Certainly. It will show her that----"

"That you are unworthy of her hand," ended Aksakoff, sharply, for here the father overleaped the diplomatist.

"Quite so, Ivan Aksakoff, and I hope soon to congratulate the Countess Petrovitch."

"You are too good, Constantine Demetrius." "In return for thus arranging your domestic affairs," continued the doctor, unmoved by the sarcasm, "will you gain my pardon from the Czar? Can you gain it?" he asked with emphasis.

"I can and will."

"My title, my money----"

"Both shall be restored. And of course," added Aksakoff, with a keen glance, "you will no longer work in what you term the sacred cause of humanity."

Demetrius waved his hand gloomily. "Dreams of youth--desires for the impossible. I am aware," he added bitterly, "that individuality in a bureaucratic administration is looked upon as a crime."

"Can you wonder at it? If one wheel refuses to fit in with another, the machine will not work. We are all parts of a mighty engine----"

"Which crushes the poor and the weak."

"What matter, since you, Constantine Demetrius, are neither poor nor weak?"

"My sympathy----"

"A most dangerous word, current only in that Utopia you dreamed of. It is not in the Russian dictionary."

Demetrius turned on the scoffer a glittering eye. "It will be, some day," said he, slowly.

"My friend"--Aksakoff shook the ash from his cigarette--"if you propose to edit dictionaries you must remain Dr. Demetrius--in exile."

"I gladly would," rejoined the other, heartily; "only----" His voice died away, as he looked towards Lady Jim.

The diplomatist laughed. "There is always a woman. Ah, these dear ladies, how practical they are! In their hands we are wax, which they mould after the honey is squeezed out"; he laughed again, then resumed, business-like: "You will write to my daughter and place the truth of this engagement beyond question."

"To-morrow, Ivan Aksakoff, when I am in London. And needless to say, I shall always profoundly respect Mademoiselle your daughter."

"You mean the Countess Petrovitch."

"If you can so far bend her to your ambition," retorted Demetrius. "You promise, then, to right me with the Czar?"

Aksakoff nodded and laughed cynically. "You are already Prince Constantine Demetrius, rich, honoured, and--unsympathetic." The doctor winced at the last word, but shook hands on the agreement. Lady Jim glanced across the room with Judas and his kiss in her mind. That the cap fitted her, also, she did not consider for the moment.

"Coffee! Coffee!" cried the pianist, rising. "Just what I want."

"It is tea on this occasion," replied Leah, and went over to take charge of the tray brought in by a smiling waiter.

"Tea?" Joan echoed the word in an amazed voice, and tripped like a fairy towards a comfortable low chair. "Who ever heard of tea in the middle of the day?"

"Australian colonists in the back blocks," explained Askew, sauntering to assist in arranging a harlequin set of cups. "They drink tea at all hours."

"In Russia, also," remarked Lady Jim, jingling the saucers. "This is a concession to the prejudices of our foreign guests"; and she laughed amiably at the Muscovites.

Demetrius bowed and smiled, twisting his waxed moustache with admiring glances at Leah's red hair. He was far from suspecting a snare, and that Aksakoff should have a finger and thumb in his waistcoat-pocket did not seem remarkable. But Lady Jim--nervously on the alert--guessed that the diplomatist was fiddling with something of a narcotic nature. Also, his significant glance at her, at the teacups, at Demetrius, hinted at her duty. She fulfilled it with a spasm of fear, well masked by frivolity.

"Joan, I have dropped my handkerchief--near the piano, I think. Will you please look for it?"

Miss Tallentire rose, to be anticipated, as Leah guessed she would be, by two attentive gentlemen. "Allow me!" "Permit me, mademoiselle!" and with Askew, Demetrius crossed for the search, while Lady Jim ran on lightly:

"It might be on the floor near you, Joan. What a nuisance! How stupid of me!"

Then Joan looked on the carpet--Leah also, the latter straining her ears to hear the almost inaudible. The faint tinkle of a pellet dropped into a cup sounded to her guilty soul like a clap of thunder.

"Here it is," cried Joan, fishing under the table, and picking up what Lady Jim had purposely dropped.

"Thanks awfully, dear. Mr. Askew, M. Demetrius, do not trouble. Give me the teapot, Joan. Ah!" she babbled on, while filling the cups--"What a pity we have not glasses, so that you could drink the tea in your own fashion, M. Demetrius. M. Aksakoff, we did so enjoy the novelty at your Monte Carlo villa. Still, here is a lemon; slice it, Joan, dear. Do sit down, doctor. M. Aksakoff, you can be waiter."

"Allow me," cried Askew, half rising.

"Sit where you are," said Leah, sharply; "you'll upset the table. M. Aksakoff!"

"With pleasure, madame"; and he obliged her with stiff cordiality.

Leah wiped her lips, which were dry, and stole a stealthy glance at the cup which he handed to the doctor. It was of a deep blue colour. "Augh!" she breathed, as he set it to his lips.

"You are wearied with your duties, madame," conjectured Aksakoff, sipping with gusto; "and I, alas, can relieve you only by acting as waiter."

"You are a guest now," she rejoined, with a nervous laugh; "is the tea to your liking?"

"Most delightful tea," said Demetrius, courteously.

"You compliment the decoction too highly. Tea on the Continent is like rain in the Sahara. I except Russia, of course," she ended, smiling.

"You will find us English in many ways, when you visit Moscow, madame."

Leah looked inquisitively at Aksakoff, who spoke, guessing that he was in possession of the truth, and wondering what he thought of the engagement. The man's face betrayed nothing, however, and her gaze travelled to Demetrius. He was sitting perfectly still, and his eyes looked dull, as though the fire of life was dwindling within. Meeting her smile, he roused himself with a jerk and an apology.

"I feel sleepy--the heat, no doubt," he murmured.

"I can't say that I feel scorching," said Askew, glancing through the window at a grey sky.

"You are used to the tropics; M. Demetrius is not," observed Aksakoff.

Joan laughed. "You remind me of a horrid story my brother told me. An old Anglo-Indian was being cremated at Woking, and said that it was the first time he had felt warm in England."

"A horrid story indeed," murmured Lady Jim, with her eyes on the expressionless face of Demetrius. "You shouldn't tell it, dear." Then she rose hurriedly: "Are you quite well, M. Demetrius?"

"Oh yes--quite"; the doctor's voice droned into an inarticulate mumble and his head fell forward.

"Oh! Mr. Askew--M. Aksakoff--what it the matter? His eyes are closed; his breathing--just listen!"

"Kind of fit, perhaps," said Askew, rising to shake Demetrius, and so extorted a cry from the kind-hearted hostess.

"Don't--the man is ill! Oh, how dreadful! Loosen his collar--open the window. I wonder if he needs a doctor," and she stepped to the electric button of the bell.

"There might be one in the hotel," said Aksakoff, as Joan and Askew obeyed her directions. And from the tone of his voice she knew that there was one in the hotel. "It really seems to be a kind of fit," said Aksakoff, looking at the now unconscious man. "Yet he appeared to be quite well a few minutes ago."

Leah did not hear. She was already at the door issuing hurried instructions to a waiter, whose smile had vanished. When she came back the two men had placed Demetrius on the sofa, where he lay breathing heavily, his face white and his lips purple; not a pleasant sight by any means, as Askew thought.

"Had not you ladies better retire?" he suggested.

"No, no!" they cried in one breath. "We must help."

"Only the doctor can do that--if there is one," said Aksakoff, observing his handiwork on the sofa with a critical eye.

Then, at the tail of a triple rap, entered the fat proprietor of the Henri Trois, scared in looks and importantly fussy in manner. Behind him glided a spick-and-span man, not unlike Demetrius, and unmistakably Tartar.

"Dr. Helfmann happened to be luncheoning," explained M. Gravier, "fortunately. What is the matter, madame?"

Helfmann soon explained that. He felt the pulse of the patient, laid a gentle hand on a weakly-beating heart, and turned up the purple eyelids. Askew and Aksakoff stood aside with the proprietor. Lady Jim and Joan bent forward with pale faces and clasped hands, anxious for the verdict.

"A kind of fit," explained the doctor; "he will be insensible for two--three hours."

"In my hotel? Ach!--the scandal!" cried Gravier, spreading his fat hands in dismay.

"Is it really a fit?" asked Lady Jim, paying no attention.

"Madame"--the doctor faced her coldly--"to speak technically would not enlighten you. I can bring this gentleman back to his senses; but I think--with your permission," added he, bowing, "that if you will permit me to take him in a cab to a chemist's shop where I can procure the drug I require, it will save time. And in this case"--he glanced calmly at the unconscious man--"time means life."

"Ugh!" said Askew. "Take him away at once."

"If you think it is better," murmured Lady Jim, not daring to meet the victorious eye of the diplomatist.

"Of course," rejoined Askew, brusquely. "You and Miss Tallentire can do nothing, and the sight is not a pleasant one."

"Joan"; Lady Jim drew the girl away, and passed with her into the bedroom adjoining. There behind a closed door they listened to the sound of a body being removed. The scraping of feet, the heavy breathing of ladened men, the bumping and humping of something soft (horrible suggestion)--they could hear these intimations of removal very plainly. Leah sat on the bed with tightly clasped hands between slack knees. "Augh!" said Leah.

"It is all right, Lady James," said Joan, petting her. "Poor M. Demetrius will soon be all right. I wonder what made him ill?"

"I wonder," echoed Lady Jim, and wondered very truly. She could not understand what drug Aksakoff had used to reduce Demetrius so rapidly to unconsciousness. And not another word was spoken for ten minutes.

"They have driven away in a fiacre," announced Miss Tallentire, from the window.

"Who have driven?"

"That doctor and M. Demetrius."

"Not M. Aksakoff?"

Before her question could be answered a sharp knock came to the door, and Aksakoff presented himself when it was opened.

"All is well, dear ladies," said he, blandly. "Dr. Helfmann has gone with our sick friend. Mr. Askew follows to see that all is well."

"Askew follows?" said Lady Jim, with a sharp glance; "but why----?"

The diplomatist still smiled. "He has a kind heart, that young Mr. Askew, and so----" he shrugged, then bowed to Joan. "I compliment you, mademoiselle, on your courage. You also, madame. And now, all being well, I must take my leave"; he kissed Lady Jim's hand. "I shall see you again in London, as to-night I journey to Havre."

He went out, and Leah again heard four names as though a ghostly porter was calling them at a ghostly junction.

"Paris, Havre, Kronstadt, Siberia," said the ghostly porter.

"Ugh!" said Lady Jim.