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There was a wicked light in her strange-colored eyes. "It was that woman again," she muttered, "the Duchess!" "What about her?" Carraby demanded. "She's bound to be civil to you now, anyway." "Is she?" Mrs. Carraby replied. "Is she, indeed! Well, her civility this afternoon has been such that I shall have to give up my stall. I can't stay there." "What do you mean?" he demanded.
Of course he could trust his wife! Besides, in his letter was the death warrant of the man who stood between him and his ambitions. Mrs. Carraby listened to his footsteps in the hall, heard his suave reply to his secretary, heard his orders to the footman who let him out. From where she stood she watched him cross the square. Already he had recovered his alert bearing.
He has the ear of the Prime Minister and he hates me. My only chance is his retirement." Mrs. Carraby looked at the letter. "Well," she said, "I have played your game for you. I have gone even to the extent of being talked about with Julien Portel." Her husband moved uneasily in his chair. "That will all blow over directly," he declared.
You were the only figure in politics which the imperialist party in England had to fear. Mrs. Carraby I believe that was the lady's name is ill-paid enough with that peerage.
To be frank with you, I know that Carraby, at a Cabinet meeting yesterday, suggested that you were at the bottom of it." Julien's eyes suddenly flashed fire. "D n that fellow!" he muttered. "Does anybody believe it?" Kendricks shrugged his shoulders. "Scarcely. And yet, Julien, it pays to be careful. You can't afford to be seen in public places with the enemies of your country."
Why, this wild-cat scheme of his of sending you off on some expedition was solely because you are the one man of whom he is afraid. He feared lest Carraby might make some hideous blunder in a crisis and that the country might demand you back. That is why he wanted you out of the way." "You may be right," Julien admitted. "What's that striking one o'clock? Till to-night, David!"
Carraby was passing from the list of the Duchess's acquaintances. It was all so inconsequent. "Can I have that one word with Anne?" he begged. The Duchess looked doubtful. "Why?" "I am going abroad to-night. I should like to say good-bye to her." "Isn't it a little foolish?" she asked. "I don't mean your going abroad that, I suppose, is almost necessary but why do you want to see Anne?
It was absurd to admit it, but nothing had pleased him so much since the coming of his misfortune! She was thoughtful for some time, every now and then glancing back at the newspaper. Over their coffee she broke into a little reminiscent laugh. "Did I tell you about Mrs. Carraby?" she asked.
"Yes, but I thought that that sort of thing was at an end. I thought that when you were a Cabinet Minister no one would dare to treat me as though I were a social nobody." "You must remember that the Duchess has a special reason," he reminded her. "I suppose it's that Portel affair." "Yes," Mrs. Carraby agreed, "it is the Portel affair." They were both silent.
They say that you have lost the friendship of France, that she trusts us no longer, and that Germany's tone becomes more threatening and more bullying every day, solely on account of your weakness." "We can't afford to risk a war," Carraby explained. "I am a Radical Minister. I have represented a Radical constituency ever since I came into Parliament.
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