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When the garden-gate closed behind Vibart he had become aware that his preoccupation with the Carstyles had shifted its centre from the daughter to the father; but he was accustomed to such emotional surprises, and skilled in seizing any compensations they might offer.
She was very happy at Lausanne. There was every reason to believe that she intended to remain for the season in her luxurious rooms overlooking the lake. And yet she had left at a single day's notice, which involved her in the useless payment of a week's rent. Only Jules Vibart, the lover of the maid, had any suggestion to offer.
And again from out the green came the soft, hushed chorus: "Peter Vibart Peter Vibart!" But, even as I laughed, came one from the wood, with a horse and armor. And the armor he girded on me, and the horse I mounted.
She appears mournful, but not disconcerted. "You have no doubt heard his unfortunate story from Auntie Maud, and you believe in him, don't you?" She raises her eyes to her cousin's face. "I hardly think I have quite heard the story," says Miss Vibart evasively. "No? It is a very sad one, and quite unaccountable. If you have heard anything about it, you have heard all I can tell you.
"He is always that way when Fabian absents himself," says Dicky Browne, with so little preface that Portia starts. "He adores the ground he walks on, and all that sort of thing. Speak to him and get him out of it." "What shall I say?" asks Miss Vibart, somewhat taken aback. "Moods are so difficult." "Anything likely to please him." "My difficulty just lies there," says Portia.
"Wish I may die!" roared Cragg, smiting his fist down on the table again, "a guinea a golden guinea to the man as could stand on 'is pins an' fight me for five minutes an' as for Buck Vibart curse 'im, I say as 'e won on a foul!" "A guinea," said I to myself, "is a fortune!" And, setting down my empty tankard, I crossed the room and touched Cragg upon the shoulder.
At luncheon she had talked a great deal of elevating influences and ideals, and had fluctuated between apologies for the overdone mutton and affected surprise that the bewildered maid-servant should have forgotten to serve the coffee and liqueurs as usual. Vibart was almost sorry that he had come.
Carstyle seemed sufficiently familiar with recent literature not to take it too seriously. He accepted Vibart's offer of young So-and-so's volume, admitting that his own library was not exactly up-to-date. Vibart went away musing. The next day he came back with the volume of essays. It seemed to be tacitly understood that he was to call at the office when he wished to see Mr.
Carstyle, his hands thrust in his pockets, his lean baggy-coated shoulders pressed against his chair-back, sat contemplating his guest with a smile of unmistakable approval. When Vibart caught his eye the smile vanished, and Mr. Carstyle, dropping his glasses from the bridge of his thin nose, looked out of the window with the expression of a man determined to prove an alibi.
Vibart, I object to your tone; the noble Sefton's virtue is proud and high, and above even the breath of suspicion." "And yet my cousin would seem to be no laggard in love, and as to the Prince his glance is contamination to a woman." "Sir," returned Mr.
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