Part 57 (1/2)

Very thoughtfully I strode along beside him. Would I be serving the Countess ill or well by selling the place to Tarnowsy? It was _her_ whim, of course, and it was a foolish one.

”Suppose that he offered you twice what you are to pay me for the place,” said I, struck by a sudden thought.

He laughed easily. ”You will not, it seems, acquit me of cupidity, Mr.

Smart. I should not sell to him under any consideration. That is final.

Take it or leave it.”

By this time we were in the rooms once occupied by the Countess. He glanced about the apartment carelessly.

”Deserted, I observe,” he remarked with a queer smile.

My heart almost stood still. ”Eh? What do you mean?”

”If I am not mistaken, these are the rooms once occupied by your valet's wife. Am I right?”

I steadied myself. ”She has gone away,” I said. ”Couldn't stand the climate.”

”I see,” said he, but he was still smiling. ”How does your valet stand it?”

”Nicely,” said I, with a conscious blush.

”I mean the separation, of course.”

”Certainly. He is used to it.”

”Isn't it rather odd that he should still think she is here, in the castle?”

”Does he?” I murmured.

”I inquired for her when I encountered him downstairs. He said she was quite well this morning, except for a headache.”

”She is subject to headaches, I believe,” said I, with the utmost nonchalance. He lifted his right eyebrow slightly, but said no more on the subject.

A pile of rubbish lay heaped in one corner of the room, swept up and left there by the big Schmicks to await the spring house cleaning season I presume. Tarnowsy at first eyed the heap curiously, then rather intently. Suddenly he strode across the room and gingerly rooted among the odds and ends with the toe of his highly polished boot.

To my horror a dilapidated doll detached itself and rolled out upon the floor,--a well-remembered treasure of Rosemary's and so unique in appearance that I doubt if there was another in the world like it.

Indeed, I have a distinct recollection of being told that the child's father had painted in the extraordinary features and had himself decorated the original flaxen locks with singular stripes of red and white and blue, a sardonic tribute to the home land of her mother.

I turned away as he stooped and picked up the soiled, discarded effigy.

When next I looked at him, out of the corner of my eye, he was holding the doll at arm's length and staring at it with a fixed gaze. I knew that he recognised it. There could be no doubt in his mind as to the ident.i.ty of that tell-tale object. My heart was thumping fiercely.

An instant later he rejoined me, but not a word did he utter concerning the strange discovery he had made. His face was set and pallid, and his eyes were misty. Involuntarily I looked to see if he had the doll in his hand, and in that glance observed the bulging surface of his coat pocket.

In silence we stood there awaiting the reappearance of Saks, who had gone into one of the adjoining rooms. I confess that my hand trembled as I lighted a fresh cigarette. He was staring moodily at the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. Something smacking of real intelligence ordered me to hold my tongue. I smoked placidly, yet waited for the outburst. It did not come. It never came. He kept his thoughts, his emotions to himself, and for that single display of restraint on his part I shall always remember him as a true descendant of the n.o.bility.

We tramped down the long flights of stairs side by side, followed by the superfluous Mr. Saks, who did all of the talking. He was, I think, discoursing on the extraordinary ability of ancient builders, but I am not absolutely certain. I am confident Tarnowsy did not hear a word the fellow said.

In my study we found p.o.o.pend.y.k.e and the two strangers.