Part 30 (1/2)
”You must be but five minutes,” he insisted.
”I shall take ten,” she retorted.
Wringing his hands Hentzi, the prey of many apprehensions, left her alone with the prisoner. It chanced that Pauline was aware of some petty thefts on the secretary's part, defalcations which would destroy Count Michael's faith in his probity. It was a threat of exposure which forced him to bring her here.
Trent rose when she came in and offered his visitor the single rush bottomed chair the cell contained.
He looked at her warily as one antagonist gazes at another before a struggle. Always she had called up in him this need for caution. Her violent and pa.s.sionate nature were graven on the face which had brought so many men to folly and disgrace. Hentzi had told him many stories of the life she had lived in great cities and the tragedies which had come to those who had loved her.
She was dressed tonight very splendidly. Jewels that should have belonged to the poor countess who was pa.s.sing her days in retreat were about her neck. An emerald necklace which in other days would have set Anthony Trent's eyes glittering matched her strange almond eyes. There was a certain tiger grace about the woman which would have attracted men's notice and women's from wherever she might have gone. Did she, he wondered, come in peace or in war? He was on his guard.
”You are surprised to see me?” she began.
”I cannot choose my visitors,” he reminded her.
”You have never liked me,” she returned, ”Why?”
”You were a danger to my enterprise,” he answered.
”A danger now removed,” she said quickly. ”What are those marks on your face?” she cried as he turned his head from the shadow to where the dim lamp light showed him more dearly. ”Who has dared to strike you?”
”That is nothing,” he cried impatiently. ”Certainly the least of my troubles. I am very weary; there may be very unpleasant hours before me and I need sleep. It cannot be such a great triumph to see me in this cell?”
”Why do you stay here?” she demanded. ”I know what Count Michael has told you. I know you have only to give him that piece of paper and your word of honor as a gentleman and you are free to go. It is very fortunate for you. Those two friends who also came are dead.”
”Did he send you here?” Trent asked.
”He would be furious if he knew,” she said quickly. ”Certainly it would do you no good if he learned of it. You know,” and Pauline looked at him through lowered lashes, ”he has always been jealous of you.”
”He has had no reason to be,” Trent reminded her coldly.
”I know,” she said, bitterness in her tone, ”but he will not believe that. And now he knows you are n.o.ble and were masquerading as a chauffeur he will be all the more jealous.”
”I'm not a n.o.bleman,” he said almost angrily. He resented her presence.
”You cannot deceive me,” she said tenderly.
”If you did not come here to speak for Count Michael, may I ask then for what purpose?”
”I want to warn you not to keep that paper from him.”
”It was burned long ago,” he answered. ”If he can collect the ashes he is welcome to them.”
”At present he is trying to collect your coat,” she told him and noted with a smile his start of alarm. ”When they took you you were coatless.
He thinks somewhere in the forest they will find it and when they find it the paper will be there and perhaps other things of your own which will be interesting.”
”I fear he will be disappointed,” Trent said calmly, ”but if he will return a favorite pipe in one of the pockets I shall be obliged.”
She looked at him steadily. Hers was not always an easy face to read.
”I pray that they will find the coat,” she said.