CHAPTER II
THE SAVAGE CLUB DINNER
Dinner was served by the time I reached the Cecil, and, as I entered thesalon, and made my way towards the table where our seats were, I sawthat my fears were realized. Anne was angry, and would not lightlyforgive me for what she evidently considered an all but unpardonablebreach of good manners.
I know Mary had arranged that Anne and I should sit together, but nowthe chair reserved for me was on Mary's left. Her husband sat at herright, and next him was Anne, deep in conversation with her furtherneighbor, who, as I recognized with a queer feeling of apprehension, wasnone other than Cassavetti himself!
Mary greeted me with a comical expression of dismay on her pretty littleface.
"I'm sorry, Maurice," she whispered. "Anne would sit there. She's veryangry. Where have you been, and why didn't you telephone? We gave youten minutes' grace, and then came on, all together. It wasn't what youmight call lively, for Jim had to sit bodkin between us, and Anne neverspoke a word the whole way!"
Jim said nothing, but looked up from his soup and favored me with a grinand a wink. He evidently imagined the situation to be funny. I did not.
"I'll explain later, Mary," I said, and moved to the back of Anne'schair.
"Will you forgive me, Miss Pendennis?" I said humbly. "I was detained atthe last moment by an accident. I rang you up, but failed to get ananswer."
She turned her head and looked up at me, with a charming smile, in whichI thought I detected a trace of contrition for her hasty condemnation ofme.
"An accident? You are hurt?" she asked impulsively.
"No, it happened to some one else; and it concerns you, Cassavetti," Icontinued, addressing him, for, as I confessed that I was unhurt, Anne'smomentary flash of compunction passed, and her perverse mood reasserteditself. With a slight shrug of her white shoulders she resumed herdinner, and though she must have heard what I told Cassavetti, shebetrayed no sign of interest.
In as few words as possible I related the circumstances, suppressingonly any mention of the discovery of Anne's portrait in the alien'spossession, and our subsequent interview in my rooms. I remembered theman's terror of Cassavetti--or Selinski--as he had called him, and hisevident conviction that he was in some way connected with the dangerthat threatened "the gracious lady," who, alas, seemed determined to beanything but gracious to me on this unlucky evening.
Cassavetti listened impassively. I watched his dark face intently, butcould learn nothing from it, not even whether he had expected the man,or recognized him from my description.
"Without doubt one of my old pensioners," he said unconcernedly."Strange that I should have missed him, for I was in my rooms beforeseven, and only left them to come on here. Accept my regrets, my friend,for the trouble he occasioned you, and my thanks for your kindness tohim."
The words and the tone were courteous enough, and yet they roused in mea sudden fierce feeling of antagonism against this man, whom I hadhitherto regarded as an interesting and pleasant acquaintance. For onething, I saw that Anne had been listening to the brief colloquy, and hadgrasped the full significance of his remark as to the time when hereturned to his rooms. The small head, with its gleaming crown ofchestnut hair, was elevated with a proud little movement, palpableenough to my jealous and troubled eyes. I could not see her face, but Iknew well that her eyes flashed stormy lightnings at that moment.Wonderful hazel eyes they were, changing with every mood, now dark andsombre as a starless night, now light and limpid as a Highland burn,laughing in the sunshine.
She imagined that the excuse I had made was invalid; for if, asCassavetti inferred, his--and my--mysterious visitor had been off thepremises before seven o'clock, I ought still to have been able to keepmy appointment with her. Well, I would have to undeceive her later!
"Don't look so solemn, Maurice," Mary said, as I seated myself besideher. "Tell me all about everything, right now."
I repeated what I had already told Cassavetti.
"Well, I call that real interesting!" she declared. "If you'd left thatpoor old creature on the stairs, you'd never have forgiven yourself,Maurice. It sounds like a piece out of a story, doesn't it, Jim?"
"You're right, my dear! A fairy story," chuckled Jim, facetiously. "Youthink so, anyhow, eh, Anne?"
Thus directly appealed to, she had to turn to him, and I heard himexplaining his question, which she affected not to understand; heardalso her answer, given with icy sweetness, and without even a glance inmy direction.
"Oh, no, I am sure Mr. Wynn is not capable of inventing such an excuse."
Thereupon she resumed her conversation with Cassavetti. They werespeaking in French, and appeared to be getting on astonishingly welltogether.
That dinner seemed interminable, though I dare say every other person inthe room except my unlucky self--and perhaps Mary, who is the mostsympathetic little soul in the world--enjoyed it immensely.
I told her of my forthcoming interview with Southbourne, and theprobability that I would have to leave London within forty-eight hours.She imparted the news to Jim in a voice that must have reached Anne'sears distinctly; but she made no sign.
Was she going to continue my punishment right through the evening? Itlooked like it. If I could only have speech with her for one minute Iwould win her forgiveness!
My opportunity came at last, when, after the toast of "the King," chairswere pushed back and people formed themselves into groups.
A pretty woman at the next table--how I blessed her in myheart!--summoned Cassavetti to her side, and I boldly took the place hevacated.
Anne flashed a smile at me,--a real smile this time,--and said demurely:
"So you're not going to sulk all the evening--Maurice?"
This was carrying war into the opposite camp with a vengeance; but thatwas Anne's way.
I expect Jim Cayley set me down as a poor-spirited skunk, for showing noresentment; but I certainly felt none now. Anne was not a girl whom onecould judge by ordinary standards. Besides, I loved her; and she knewwell that one smile, one gracious word, would compensate for all pastcapricious unkindness. Yes, she must have known that; too well, perhaps,just then.
"I told the truth just now, though not all of it," I said, in a rapidundertone.
"I knew you were keeping something back," she declared merrily. "And nowyou have taken your punishment, sir, you may give your fullexplanation."
"I can't here; I must see you alone. It is something veryserious,--something that concerns you nearly."
"Me! But what about your mysterious old man?"
"It concerns him, too--both of you--"
Even as I spoke, once more the incredibility of any connection betweenthis glorious creature and that poor, starved, half-demented wreck ofhumanity, struck me afresh.
"But I can't tell you now, as I said, and--hush--don't let him hear; andbeware of him, I implore you. No, it's not mere jealousy,--though Ican't explain, here." I had indicated Cassavetti with a scarcelyperceptible gesture, for I knew that, though he was still talking to thepretty woman in black, he was furtively watching us.
A curious expression crossed Anne's mobile face as she glanced across athim, from under her long lashes.
But her next words, spoken aloud, had no reference to my warning.
"Is it true that you are leaving town at once?"
"Yes. I may come to see you to-morrow?"
"Come as early as you like--in reason."
That was all, for Cassavetti rejoined us, dragging up a chair in placeof the one I had appropriated.
"So you and Mr. Wynn are neighbors," she said gaily. "Though he nevertold me so."
"Doubtless he considered me too insignificant," replied Cassavetti,suavely enough, though I felt, rather than saw, that he eyed memalignantly.
"Oh, you are not in the least insignificant, though you areexasperatingly--how shall I put it?--opinionated," she retorted, andturned to me. "Mr. Cassavetti has accused me of being a Russian."
"Not accused--complime
nted," he interpolated, with a deprecatory bow.
"You see?" Anne appealed to me in the same light tone, but our eyes metin a significant glance, and I knew that she had understood my warning,perhaps far better than I did myself; for after all I had been guided byinstinct rather than knowledge when I uttered it.
"I have told him that I have never been in Russia," she continued, "andhe is rude enough to disbelieve a lady!"
"I protest--and apologize also," asserted Cassavetti, "though you aresmoking a Russian cigarette."
"As two-thirds of the women here are doing. The others are non-smokingfrumps," she laughed.
"But you smoke them with such a singular grace."
The words and tone were courtier-like, but their inference wasunmistakable. I could have killed him for it! A swift glance from Annecommanded silence and self-restraint.
"You are a flatterer, Mr. Cassavetti," she said in mock reproof. "Comealong, good people; there's plenty of room here!" as other acquaintancesjoined us. "Oh, some one's going to recite--hush!"
The next hour or so passed pleasantly, and all too quickly. Anne was thecentre of a merry group, and was now in her wittiest and most graciousmood. Cassavetti remained with us, speaking seldom, though he could be abrilliant conversationalist when he liked. He listened to Anne's everyword, watched every gesture, unobtrusively, but with a curiousintentness.
Soon after ten, people began to leave, some who lived at a distance,others who would finish the evening elsewhere. Anne was going on to abirthday supper at Mrs. Dennis Sutherland's house in Kensington, towhich many theatrical friends had been bidden. The invitation was animpromptu one, given and accepted a few minutes ago, and now the famousactress came to claim her guest.
"Ready, Anne? Sorry you can't come with us, Mr. Wynn; but come later ifyou can."
We moved towards the door all together, Anne and her hostess with theirhands full of red and white flowers. The "Savages" had raided the tabledecorations, and presented the spoils to their guests.
Cassavetti intercepted Anne.
"Good night, Miss Pendennis," he said in a low voice, adding, in French,"Will you give me a flower as souvenir of our first meeting?"
She glanced at her posy, selected a spray of scarlet geranium, andpresented it to him with a smile, and a word that I did not catch.
He looked at her more intently than ever as he took it.
"A thousand thanks, mademoiselle. I understand well," he said, with aqueer thrill in his voice, as of suppressed excitement.
As she passed on I heard him mutter in French: "The symbol! Then it isshe! Yes, without doubt it is she!"
The Red Symbol Page 4