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In the meantime Claude de Chauxville had gently led the Countess Lanovitch to invite him to stay to dinner. He accepted the invitation with becoming reluctance, and returned to the Hotel de Berlin, where he was staying, in order to dress. He was fully alive to the expediency of striking while the iron is hot more especially where women are concerned.
He unfolded the sheet slowly, and having found what he sought, he read aloud: "'His Excellency the Roumanian Ambassador gave a select dinner-party at 4 Craven Gardens, yesterday. Among the guests were the Baron de Chauxville, Feneer Pasha, Lord and Lady Standover, Mrs. Sydney Bamborough, and others." Steinmetz threw the paper down and leant back in his chair.
"A local newspaper reports that the body of a man was discovered on the plains of Tver and duly buried in the pauper cemetery," said De Chauxville indifferently. "Your husband Sydney Bamborough, I mean was, for reasons which need not be gone into here, in the neighborhood of Tver at the time.
I should have liked to keep it from you, for your sake as well as for hers. Our daily life is made possible only by the fact that we know so little of our neighbors. There are many things of which we are better ignorant right up to the end. This might have been one of them. But De Chauxville found it out, and it is better that I should tell you than he." Paul did not look around.
He then rang the bell and ordered liqueurs. There was evidently something in the nature of an entertainment about to take place in apartment No. 44 of the Hôtel de Moscou. Before long a discreet knock announced the arrival of the expected visitor. "Entrez!" cried Vassili; and De Chauxville stood before him, with a smile which in French is called crâne.
De Chauxville had a good memory, and was, moreover, a good and capable liar. So Catrina did not find out that he knew nothing whatever of music. He watched the plain face as the music rose and fell, himself impervious to its transcendent tones. With practised cunning he waited until Catrina was almost intoxicated with music an intoxication to which all great musicians are liable. "Ah!" he said.
To be more correct, let us note that the talk lay between Etta and M. de Chauxville, who had a famous supply of epigrams and bright nothings delivered in such a way that they really sounded like wisdom. Etta was equal to him, sometimes capping his sharp wit, sometimes contenting herself with silvery laughter. Maggie Delafield was rather distraite, as De Chauxville noted.
"M. de Chauxville is not going until I have finished with him, madame. This may be the last time we meet. I hope it is." De Chauxville looked uneasy. His was a ready wit, and fear was the only feeling that paralyzed it. Etta looked at him. Was his wit going to desert him now when he most needed it? He had ridden boldly into the lion's den.
"I can hardly tell you stale news that comes from London via Paris, can I?" he continued. Steinmetz was tapping impatiently on the floor with his broad boot. "About whom about whom?" cried the countess, clapping her soft hands together. "Well, about Prince Paul," said De Chauxville, looking at Steinmetz with airy defiance. Steinmetz moved a little.
"This ice is marvellous colossa-a-a-l." He amused himself with describing figures, like a huge grave-minded boy, until Paul joined him. "Where is Etta?" asked the prince at once. "Over there with De Chauxville." Paul said nothing for a few moments. They skated side by side round the lake. It was too cold to stand still even for a minute.
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