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Updated: June 13, 2025
Still, I thought of little else until the coming of the very earliest hour at which I could show myself in Park Lane on the following day. Yes, Lady Tressidy was at home, vouchsafed a solemn footman. My name was announced, and I scarcely ventured to lift my eyes on entering the drawing-room, lest they should tell me that Karine was not there. Perhaps she was ill.
There was a cry from Karine, and a sharp exclamation of dismayed astonishment from Wildred, for once outwitted. I had never been a match for him in diplomacy, but when it came to a physical encounter, I had every advantage over him, and I knew it.
At length, when I had had a few words with my hostess, the crowd resolved itself into a dozen persons at most, and seeing Karine at a far end of the room surrounded by three or four vacuous-looking young men, I desperately resolved to outstay everybody.
And stepping past him into the hall, despite a visible gleam of consternation in his eye, I deliberately took out a pencil and card-case, slowly scribbling a few words. My hope was that if Karine was really in the drawing-room she would come forth, and the Gordian knot of the dilemma would be cut.
An excuse was made to bring her and Lady Tressidy there something about a portrait of Karine that was in a queer room called the 'studio' and while Wildred was showing Lady Tressidy over the house I saw my sister, and had a talk with her. She felt grateful to Wildred for bringing it about, and fool that I was, I didn't suspect the deep game he meant to play with her, using me as the decoy.
She has told you such of my secrets as she knew, she has shown you certain things in this house which have very naturally displeased and shocked you. She timed her return very well jealous idiot! but she will pay for what she has done." "How will she pay?" I could not see Karine, but I could hear her voice, vibrant with the fear and horror that she felt.
Lady Tressidy was so full of plans for the future Karine's future with Carson Wildred that my soul sickened of her chatter, and I took myself off as soon as it was decently possible to do so. With no further chance of private talk with Karine much of my incentive for remaining was gone, at all events, and I was anxious to think out the puzzle regarding the transfer of the ring.
I determined, on the contrary, that I would see her as often as possible. I had luckily kept my head sufficiently to breathe no word of love to Karine. I had even dwelt with some emphasis upon my "friendship," as though to assure her that she need fear no more, need dread no persecution at my hands.
Out of chaos came a shriek from Karine. Could it be a cry of joy? What reason was there for rejoicing? But there followed a renewed crashing of glass, the muffled thud of feet descending from a height upon the soft surface of rugs, and the sound of men's voices. It seemed to me that Cunningham's was among them, but a strange, cold pall of darkness enveloped me, and I knew no more.
And still the drawing-room door, near which I was standing, was not opened. I should have been glad to underscore the last six words, but did not venture to do so for obvious reasons, and could only hope that Karine might see them or hear them read, and partly understand.
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