Part 44 (2/2)
”Easier than you think, my child.”
”I will not have you call me child.”
”Well, then, Olga.”
”That's better. Now, how will it be easier than I think?”
”Simply this; the Princess Parlova is an oath-bound member, but has not been active for years.”
”Oho!” Olga was all animation now. ”Go on!”
”You will go to her with a letter of introduction--no! Better than that, you will make a formal call and show her this ring. You know the ring,” he said, pa.s.sing the talisman to the countess. ”Show this to her and she will obey you in everything. She will have no alternative.”
”Very good,” replied Olga. ”And then the program is to insist that she invite Florence and that fool of a reporter to this ball. Then what?”
”You can leave that to me.”
”Haven't all these failures been a warning?”
”No, my dear. I was born optimistic; but there's a jinx somewhere in one of my pockets. Time after time I've had everything just where I wanted it, and then--poof! It's pure bald luck on their side, but sooner or later the wheel will turn. And any chance that offers I am bound to accept. Somehow or other we may be able to trap Florence and Norton. I want both of them. If I can get them, Jones will be forced to draw in Hargreave.”
”Is there such a man?”
”You saw him that night at the restaurant.”
”I have often thought that perhaps I just dreamed it.” She turned again to the piano and began humming idly.
”Stop that and listen to me,” said Braine, not in quite the best of tempers. ”I'm in no mood for whims.”
”Music does not soothe your soul, then?” cynically.
”If I had one it might. You will call on the Princess Parlova to-morrow afternoon. It depends upon you what my plans will be. I think you'll have little trouble in getting into the presence of her highness, and once there she will not be able to resist you.”
”I'll go.”
And go she did. The footman in green livery hesitated for a moment, but the t.i.tle on the visiting card was quite sufficient. He bowed the countess into the reception room and went in search of his distinguished mistress.
The Princess Parlova was a handsome woman verging upon middle age. She was a patrician; Olga's keen eye discerned that instantly. She came into the reception room with that dignified serenity which would have impressed any one as genuine. She held the card in her fingers and smiled inquiringly toward her guest.
”I confess,” she began, ”that I recall neither your face nor your name.
I am sorry. Where have I had the honor of meeting you before?”
”You have never met me before, your highness,” answered Olga sweetly.
”You came on a charity errand, then?”
”That depends, your highness. Will you be so good as to glance at this?” Olga asked, holding out her palm upon which the talisman lay.
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