Double Trouble | Page 9

his in a steady
regard which flashed a thrill through his whole body as he gazed. For
she seemed to emanate from the tiger-skin, as a butterfly from the
chrysalis.
[Illustration: She seemed to emanate from the tiger-skin, as a butterfly
from the chrysalis.]
Her dress was of some combination of black and yellow which carried
upward the tones of the great rug. Her bare arms--long, and tapering to
lithe wrists and hands--were clasped by dull-gold bracelets of twisted
serpents. Over shapely shoulders, the flesh of which looked white and
young, there was thrown a wrap like feathery snow, from under which
drooped down over the girlish bosom a necklace that seemed of pearl.
The face was fair, its pallor tinged with red at lips, and rose on cheeks.
The eyes, luminous and steady, shone out through heavy dark lashes,
from under brows of black, and seemed, at that first glance, of oriental

darkness. A great mass of dark-brown hair encircled the rather small
face, and even in his first look, he noted at the temples twin strands of
golden-blond which, carried out like rays in the fluffy halo about her
brow, reappeared in all the twistings and turnings of the involved pile
which crowned the graceful head. The yellow-and-black of the tiger
appeared thus, from head to foot. It was afterward that he found out
something of the secret of the peculiar fascination in the great dark eyes.
One of them was gray, with that greenish tinge which has been
regarded as the token of genius. The other was of a mottled
golden-brown, with lights like those in the tiger's eye. In both, in any
but strong light, the velvet-black pupils spread out, and pushed the iris
back to a thin margin; and thus they varied, from gray or brown, to that
liquid night, which Amidon now saw in them, as he stepped within the
doorway, and looked so long on her, as she sat like a model for the
Queen of the Jungle, that under other circumstances the gaze would
have seemed rude. Some sense of this, breaking through his
bewilderment, made him bow.
"Madame le Claire?" said he.
"The same," said she. "How can I serve you, sir?"
The voice, a soft contralto, was the complement of the steady regard of
the eyes. As she spoke, she rose and stepped toward him, down from
the little dais to the rug. She rose, not with the effort which marks the
act in most, but lightly, as a flower rises from the touch of a breeze. She
was tall and lithe, and all the curves of her figure were long and
low--once more suggesting the soft strength of the tigress. But when
speech parted the lips, the smile which overspread her face won him.
"How can I serve you, my friend?" she repeated.
"I am in great trouble," said he.
"Yes," she purred.
"I saw your sign," he went on. "And I want you to tell me where I have
been since June, 1896--and who is Eugene Brassfield? Did I kill

him--or only rob him? And who is Elizabeth?"
She had stepped close to him now, as if to catch the scent of some
disturbing influence which might account for such incoherence; but
Amidon's breath was innocent of taint.
"Yes!" said she, "I think we shall be able to tell you all. But, are you
well?"
"I have had no breakfast," said he. "When I found that I had lost five
years--I forgot. And--once--I fainted. I'm not quite--well, I'm afraid!"
Madame le Claire stepped to the wall and pushed a button. The
turbaned Sudanese reappeared at once.
"Aaron," said she, "tell Professor Blatherwick that Mr.--Mr.----"
"Amidon," said Florian hastily--"Amidon is my name."
"--Amidon will dine with us," Madame le Clair continued smoothly.
"He has some very interesting things for us to look into. And have
dinner served at once."
Aaron! and dinner! and Blatherwick! The delicious vulgarity of the
names was sweet music. For be it remembered that Florian was a
banker, and a man of position; and sandalwood, Sudanese, Bedouins
and illusions were ill for the green wound of his mystery--which, in all
conscience, was bad enough in and of itself! Some confidence in the
realities of things returned to him, but he followed Madame le Claire
like a faithful hound.

V
SUBLIMINAL ENGINEERING
Now, Red-Neck Johnson's right hand never knew his left hand's game;
And most diverse were the meanings of the gestures of the same. For,

benedictions to send forth, his left hand seemed to strive, While his
right hand rested lightly on his ready forty-five. "Mr. Chairman and
Committee," Mr. Johnson said, said he, "It is true, I'm tangled up some
with this person's property; It is true that growin' out therefrom and
therewith to arrive, Was