Part 20 (1/2)
”Your att.i.tude makes it impossible for me to remain, Miss Gilmore.”
”Of course you know best, but I should not go if I were you.”
He was uneasy and hesitated; went toward the door and then paused and turned. ”If you wish to say anything to me and can do so without insulting me, I am willing to listen to you--as a friend of Madame's;”
and he waved his hand in her direction.
”I've a great deal to say and I'm going to say it to some one. Of course if you go, I must say it to some one else.”
”And what am I to understand by that?”
”You haven't decided yet whether to go or stay. Now, I'll be much more candid with you than you are with me. It's just a question whether you dare go or not. Your start just now is what we Americans call putting up a bluff. But you can't bluff me. I hold the cards--every one of them a winning card, too. If you go, you lose the game straight away, for I shan't be many minutes in the house after you. You're going to lose anyhow, for that matter: but--well, as I tell you, you'd better not go.”
”I'm not versed in American slang, Miss Gilmore, and it doesn't lend itself to translation into German,” he sneered.
”Then I'll put it plainer. Go, if you dare, Count Gustav;” and I challenged him in look as well as words.
”I am always anxious to oblige a pretty woman, Miss Gilmore,” he said, with one of his most gracious glances.
”That's very sweet of you, Count. But the question is not my looks; it's your reputation and position.”
At this point Madame d'Artelle made a diversion.
”I am not feeling well, Christabel, and am going to my room to lie down,” she said, rising.
”That's just what I would have suggested, Henrietta,” I answered, fastening on her action. ”It's just as well. I have to say some things to Count Gustav that he might not care for even you to hear.”
He made a great show of opening the door for her to pa.s.s and used the moment's delay to think.
Just as she went out the footman came to the door, carrying the parcel.
”Do you want me, Peter?” she asked.
”No, Madame, Miss Gilmore. The parcel you asked for, miss.” I took it and he went out and closed the door.
”I have resolved not to stay longer, Miss Gilmore. I would do much for any friend of Madame's, but I cannot with self-respect suffer your threats and insults.”
I thought of a little dramatic stroke.
”One moment, Count, this parcel concerns you.” I half tore the wrapper off and handed it to him.
He would not take it, waving it away contemptuously.
”You had better take it. It is from--Sillien, Count,” I said, very deliberately.
His eyes blazed with sudden anger.
”I don't understand you,” he cried; but he took it and tore off the covering to find a blank sheet of paper.
”This is another insult. I would have you beware.”