Part 26 (1/2)
”Liane Brooker,” answered his fair visitor. ”In her interests, and in yours.”
”Are you, then, a friend of Liane's?” he inquired, suddenly interested.
”Well, not exactly,” she replied, a little evasively he thought.
Then she replaced her cigarette daintily between her lips, and continued smoking with that ease and grace acquired by ladies who are in the habit of soothing their nerves with tobacco.
”Are you acquainted with Captain Brooker?” he asked.
”Yes, we have met,” she answered. ”You know him, of course? He is such a kind-hearted man, such a thorough Bohemian, yet such a perfect gentleman.”
”Unfortunately, I have only met him on one or two occasions,” George said. In an instant it had occurred to him that from his mysterious visitor he might learn what Liane and poor Nelly had always refused to tell him. ”He has lived here, in France, for some years. What has been his profession?”
”Profession!” she exclaimed, raising her dark well shaped eyebrows.
”What! are you unaware?”
”I am entirely ignorant.”
”Well, although a military officer, of late years his chief field of operations has been the trente-et-quarante table at Monte Carlo, where he is as well-known as--well, as the fat old gentleman who sits in the bureau to examine one's visiting card.”
”A gambler!” he cried, in a tone of disbelief.
”Yes, a gambler,” she went on. ”Few men of late years have lost such large sums so recklessly as he has. Once everybody followed his play, believing him to be a sort of wizard who could divine the cards undealt; but at last his ill-luck became proverbial, and after ruining himself he left with Liane and Nelly Bridson and went to England.”
”And Liane? What of her?” he inquired, dismayed that the man he had held in high esteem as a good-hearted, easy-going fellow should actually turn out to be an adventurer.
”Ah! she has led a strange life,” sighed the handsome Frenchwoman. ”I have seen her many times, but have seldom spoken much with her. I often met her father in the days of his success, but he for some reason avoided introducing me. Although the circle in which Erle Brooker moved was usually composed of thieves, adventuresses, and the sc.u.m of the gambling-h.e.l.ls, he held his daughter aloof from it all. He would never permit her to mix with any of his companions, appearing to entertain a curious suspicion towards even respectable folk, fearing lest she should become contaminated by the world's wickedness. Thus,” she added, ”Liane and her companion Nelly grew to be sweet and altogether ingenuous girls, who were everywhere respected and admired.”
There was a short pause, during which he pondered deeply over the facts his strange visitor had explained. The truth was out at last. Liane was the daughter of an adventurer. He recollected how well she had been dressed when he had met her on the terrace at Monte Carlo, and reflected that her father must be again winning. The reason why she had compelled him to leave her that afternoon, why she had always preserved such a reticence regarding her past life, was now entirely plain. She did not wish that he should know the truth.
”You said that you called in Liane's interests,” he observed, presently, glancing at her with earnestness. ”How?”
”What are her interests are yours; are they not?” she asked.
”Certainly.”
”You love her?”
He smiled at the abruptness of her question. She was leaning back, regarding him with her keen, dark eyes, and holding her cigarette daintily between her bejewelled fingers.
”She has promised to become my wife,” he answered.
A strange look crossed her features. There was something of surprise mingled with anger; but in an instant she hid it beneath a calm, sphinx-like expression.
”I fear she will never marry you,” she said, with a sigh.
”Why?”
”Because of her engagement to the Prince d'Auzac.”
”I care nothing for that,” he cried, in anger at mention of his rival's name. ”We love each other, and will marry.”