Part 9 (2/2)
”You are quite right,” her companion admitted. ”One should not talk of these things even where the birds may listen, but it is so difficult. As for that man, he could not possibly hear, but there might be others. One pa.s.ses behind on the gra.s.s so noiselessly.”
They relapsed into silence. Naida, leaning a little forward, became once more engrossed in the play. Her eyes were fixed upon Nigel. It was his movements which she followed, his strokes which she usually applauded.
Immelan sat by her side and watched.
”They are well matched,” he remarked presently.
”Mr. Chalmers has a wonderful service,” she declared, ”but Lord Dorminster has more skill. Oh, bravo!”
The set at that moment was finished by a backhanded return from Nigel, which skimmed over the net at a great pace, completely out of reach of the opposing couple. The players strolled across to the seats under the trees. Naida smiled at Nigel, and he came over to her side. Once again he was conscious of that peculiar sense of pleasure and well-being which he felt in her company.
”You play tennis very well, Lord Dorminster,” she said.
”I found inspiration,” he answered.
”In your partner?”
”Maggie is always charming to play with. I was thinking of the onlookers.”
”Mr. Immelan is very interested in tennis,” she remarked, with a smile which challenged him.
”And you?”
”Even more so.”
”Tell me about games in Russia,” he begged, seating himself on the gra.s.s by her side.
”We have none,” she replied. ”I learnt my tennis at Cannes, where, curiously enough, I saw you play three years ago.”
”You were there then?” he asked with interest.
”For a few days only. We were motoring from Spain to Monte Carlo. Cannes was very crowded, but you see I remembered.”
Her voice seemed to have some lingering charm in it, some curiously potent suggestion of personal interest which stirred his pulses. He looked up and met her eyes. For a moment the world of tennis fields, of pleasant chatter and of holiday-makings, pa.s.sed away. He rose abruptly to his feet. This time he avoided looking at her.
”You must come over and speak to Maggie,” he begged. ”Perhaps Mr.
Immelan will spare you for a few moments.”
Immelan bowed, sphinxlike but coldly furious. The two strolled away together.
When the next set was over, Naida, who had rejoined her companion, had disappeared. On one of their vacated chairs was seated the quiet-looking stranger in grey. Chalmers pa.s.sed his arm through Nigel's and led him in that direction.
”I want you two to know each other,” he said. ”Jesson, this is Lord Dorminster--Mr. Gilbert Jesson--Lord Dorminster.”
The two men shook hands, Nigel a little vaguely. He was at first unable to place this newcomer.
”Mr. Jesson,” Chalmers explained, dropping his voice a little, ”was a highly privileged and very much valued member of our Intelligence Department, until he resigned a few months ago. I think that if you could spare an hour or two any time this evening, Dorminster, it would interest you very much to know exactly the reason for Mr. Jesson's resignation.”
”I should be very pleased indeed,” Nigel replied. ”Won't you both come and dine in Belgrave Square to-night? I was going to ask you, anyhow, Chalmers. Naida Karetsky has promised to come, and my cousin will be hostess.”
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