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As London Bill plies darksome spade and pick and pinch-bar, the Harlem shipmen are furnishing and coaling and storing the Zulu Queen. Storri said nothing of London Bill and the Zulu Queen to the San Reve. He had well-nigh given up the club, being willing to postpone all chance of meeting either Mr.
"Storri dead!" he exclaimed, making as though he would enter London Bill's tunnel, from which Inspector Val had crawled to make his grim announcement. "Dead as Nero!" returned Inspector Val. "But not there not in the tunnel!" "Where then?" asked Richard. "In Grant Place. You recall the San Reve? she who wrote the letter about those French shares?
I wish to have the bracelet copied in real stones, and to present it to her as a surprise on the occasion of the twenty-fifth performance of Le Rêve. It will cost me a king's ransom, and her, for the time being, an infinite amount of anxiety. She sets great store by the valueless trinket solely because of the merit of its design, and I want its disappearance to have every semblance of a theft.
Several of the guests moved after us, as we passed into the gallery. The Duke's shadow, Rêve de Noir, following last, closed the ivory doors.
The hand was clammy and cold as ice. The San Reve had died when Storri died, but there was none of the rigidity of death, the body was relaxed and limp. Inspector Val sniffed the air inquisitively, and got just the faintest odor of bitter almonds. That, and the relaxed limbs, enlightened him. "Prussic acid," said he.
When he got about ten feet away, he turned like a man who has overlooked a point, and said: 'I rang the bell; they'll get it right off. Then he went away. The woman's name is San Reve Sara San Reve. She's a Frenchwoman, and came from Ottawa. She has had her place only a short time, and was appointed on the recommendation of a member of the Senate Senator Hanway."
"Ah, vraiment; that is indeed delightful; cela est fort touchant; that show so much sensibilite, to appreciate le merite, though suffering from poverty. A marriage like that must be beau comme un reve d'Amour!" "You are quite romantic on the subject; but don't people make such matches in France?" "Ah, non, Madame; le froid calcul dominates there at such times.
I, as a child, was not afraid of a lion under the lash; am I now to fear a bear, a Russian bear, I, who am a woman?" "Why, my San Reve," protested Storri, "and what has stirred your anger?" Storri was startled by the San Reve's fury rather than her revelations. Having a politic mind to soothe her, he sought to take her hand.
In the bow-window was a window-seat piled high with cushions, from which by daylight one might have surveyed the passing show dull enough in Grant Place. "Have you no kiss for your Storri, my San Reve?" cried Storri plaintively, but still sticking to the lightly confident. The San Reve accepted Storri's gallant attention as though thinking on other things than kisses.
Thus did the San Reve solve the problem: while Storri would be for misleading her, Miss Harley was hood-winking the Harleys. For a moment the San Reve thought of notifying the Harleys. Then in her desperation she put the impulse aside. Of what avail would be a call upon the Harleys? It might defer; it could not prevent.
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