The Knave of Diamonds | Page 6

decision.
"Whatever her origin, that queenliness of hers is not assumed. I believe
her to be intensely reserved, and, perhaps for that very reason, I have a
genuine admiration for her."

"My dear Mrs. Randal, you'd find points to admire in a wax candle,"
grunted the Major. "She always makes me think of one; pale and pure
and saintly--I can't stand the type. Let's go downstairs and find Violet."
"Oh, not saintly, I think," protested Mrs. Randal charitably. "Saintly
people are so uninteresting."
The Major laughed. He was already on his feet.
"Probably not--probably not. But a show of saintliness is more than
enough to frighten me away. A woman who can't understand a wink I
invariably strike forthwith off my visiting-list."
"How cruel of you!" laughed Mrs. Randal. They were already moving
away down the corridor. Her voice receded as they went. "But I can't
understand any man daring to wink at Lady Carfax; I can't, indeed."
"That's just what I complain about," grumbled Major Shirley. "Those
wax-candle sort of women never see a joke. What fools they are to
leave the place in darkness like this! Can you see where you are
going?"
"Yes, we are just at the head of the stairs. It is rather foolish as you say.
People might hurt themselves."
"Of course they might. Infernally dangerous. I shall complain."
The voices fell away into distance; the band in the ballroom struck up
again, and the woman on the settee in the alcove sat up and prepared to
rise.
"Suppose we go down now," she said.
Her companion moved away from the little window as one coming out
of a reverie. "Our gallant Major Shirley seems somewhat disgruntled
tonight," he said. "Do you know him?"
"Yes, I know him." Her words fell with icy precision.

"So do I." The man's tone was one of sheer amusement. "I had the
pleasure of meeting him at the Rifle Club the other day. Someone
introduced us. It was great fun. If there were a little more light, I would
show you what he looked like. For some reason he wasn't pleased. Do
you really want to go downstairs though? It is much nicer here."
She had risen. They were facing one another in the twilight. "Yes," she
said, and though still quiet her voice was not altogether even. "I want to
go, please."
"Mayn't I tell you something first?" he said.
She stood silent, evidently waiting for his communication.
"It's not of paramount importance," he said. "But I think you may as
well know it for your present edification and future guidance. Madam, I
am that wicked, wanton, wily fox, that whipper-snapper, that
unmitigated bounder--Nap Errol!"
He made the announcement with supreme complacence. It was evident
that he felt not the faintest anxiety as to how she would receive it.
There was even a certain careless hauteur about him as though the
qualities he thus frankly enumerated were to him a source of pride.
She heard him with no sign of astonishment. "I knew it," she said
quietly. "I have known you by sight for some time."
"And you were not afraid to speak to such a dangerous scoundrel?" he
said.
"You don't strike me as being very formidable," she answered.
"Moreover, if you remember, it was you who spoke first."
"To be sure," he said. "It was all of a piece with my habitual
confounded audacity. Shall I tell you something more? I wonder
whether I dare."
"Wait!" she said imperatively. "It is my turn to tell you something,

though it is more than possible that you know it already. Mr. Errol, I
am--Lady Carfax!"
He bowed low. "I did know," he said, in a tone from which all hint of
banter had departed. "But I thank you none the less for telling me. I
much doubted if you would. And that brings me to my second--or is it
my third?--confession. I did not take you for Mrs. Damer in the
card-room a little while ago. I took you for no one but yourself. No
man of ordinary intelligence could do otherwise. But I had been
wanting to make your acquaintance all the evening, and no one would
be kind enough to present me. So I took the first opportunity that
occurred, trusting to the end to justify the means."
"But why have you told me?" she said.
"Because I think you are a woman who appreciates the truth."
"I am," she said. "But I do not often hear it as I have heard it to-night"
He put out his hand to her impulsively. "Say, Lady Carfax, let me go
and kick that old scandal-monger into the middle of next week!"
Involuntarily almost she gave her hand in return. "No, you mustn't," she
said, laughing faintly. "The fault was ours.