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Clarke was stepping down from the witness-box; Dumeny, his eyes half closed, was brushing his shining silk hat with the sleeve of his coat; Beadon Clarke was leaning to speak to his mother. The Court was adjourned. As Dion got up he felt the heat as if it were heat from a furnace. His face and his body were burning. "Come and speak to Cynthia, and take us to tea somewhere can you?" said Mrs.
"I come now to the respondent's relation with the second co-respondent, Aristide Dumeny of the French Embassy in Constantinople." Dion leaned slightly forward and looked at Dumeny. Dumeny was sitting bolt upright, and now, as the Judge mentioned his name, he folded his arms, raised his long dark eyes, and gazed steadily at the bench. Did he know that he was the danger in the case?
Esme Darlington had returned to his place beside her, and she spoke to him now and then. Hadi Bey wiped his handsome rounded brown forehead with a colored silk handkerchief; and Aristide Dumeny, with half-closed eyes, ironically examined the crowd, whispered to a member of his Embassy who had accompanied him into court, folded his arms and sat looking down.
There was nothing striking in the words, but to Dion the Judge's voice seemed slightly changed as it uttered the last sentence. Surely a frigid severity had crept into it, surely it was colored with a faint, but definite, contempt. Several of the jury started narrowly at Aristide Dumeny, and the foreman, with a care and precision almost ostentatious, took a note.
Clarke he had formed the definite impression that Dumeny was corrupt an interesting man, a clever, probably a romantic as well as a cynical man, but certainly corrupt. Didn't that tell against Mrs. Clarke? She was now being questioned about a trip at night in a caique with Hadi Bey down the sweet waters of Asia where willows lean over the stream. Mrs. Chetwinde's pale eyes were fastened upon her.
Yes." "What d'you mean by that? D'you mean Brayfield?" "Yes." "Have there been many others who have cared as Brayfield did?" "Yes." "Hadi Bey was one of them, I suppose?" "Yes." "And Dumeny was another?" "Yes." "Poor fellows!" His lips were smiling, but his eyes looked dreadfully intent and searching. "You made them suffer and gave them no reward. I can see you doing it and enjoying it."
He watched her with a growing interest. How very much she must know that he did not know. Then he glanced at Hadi Bey, who still sat up alertly, who still looked bright and vivid, intelligent, ready for anything, a man surely with muscles of steel and a courageous robust nature, and at Aristide Dumeny. Upon the latter his eyes rested for a long time. When at last he again looked at Mrs.
But, somehow, he left upon the mind of Dion, and probably upon the minds of many others, an impression that he, the Judge, was doubtful as to the sheer intellectuality of Monsieur Dumeny, was not convinced that he had reached that condition of moral serenity and purification in which a rare woman can be happily regarded as a sort of disembodied spirit.
She acknowledged that she had been a great deal with Hadi Bey and Dumeny, that she had often made long excursions with each of them on foot, on horseback, in caiques, that she had had them to dinner, separately, on many occasions in a little pavilion which stood at the end of her husband's garden and looked upon the Bosporus.
And I hope it will be possible for your wife and me to meet soon, now there's nothing against it owing to the verdict." "Thank you." "Do tell her, and see if we can arrange it." Dumeny at this moment passed close to them with his friend on his way out of court. His eyes rested on Mrs. Clarke, and a faint smile went over his face as he slightly raised his hat. "Good-by," said Mrs. Clarke to Dion.
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