The Yellow Crayon Part 13

She laughed softly.

"There may be no Versailles," she murmured, "but you will be a courtier to the end of your days."

"At least," he said, "believe me that my congratulations come from my heart. Your happiness is written in your face, and your husband must be the proudest man in England."

He was standing now by her side, and he held out his hand to Mr. Sabin.

"I hope, sir," he said pleasantly, "that you bear me no ill-will."

"It would be madness," Mr. Sabin answered. "To be the most beautiful peeress in England is perhaps for Helene a happier fate than to be the first queen of a new dynasty."

"And you, uncle?" Helene said. "You are back from your exile then. How often I have felt disposed to smile when I thought of you, of all men, in America."

"I went into exile," Mr. Sabin answered, "and I found paradise. The three years which have pa.s.sed since I saw you last have been the happiest of my life."

"Lucille!" Helene exclaimed.

"Is my wife," Mr. Sabin answered.

"Delightful!" Helene murmured. "She is with you then, I hope. Indeed, I felt sure that I saw her the other night at the opera."

"At the opera!" Mr. Sabin for a moment was silent. He would have been ashamed to confess that his heart was beating strongly, that a crowd of eager questions trembled upon his lips. He recovered himself after a moment.

"Lucille is not with me for the moment," he said in measured tones. "I am detaining you from your guests, Helene. If you will permit me I will call upon you."

"Won't you join us?" Lord Camperdown asked courteously. "We are only a small party--the Portuguese Amba.s.sador and his wife, the Duke of Medchester, and Stanley Phillipson."

Mr. Sabin rose at once.

"I shall be delighted," he said.

Lord Camperdown hesitated for a moment.

"I present Monsieur le Due de Souspennier, I presume?" he remarked, smiling.

Mr. Sabin bowed.

"I am Mr. Sabin," he said, "at the hotels and places where one travels.

To my friends I have no longer an incognito. It is not necessary."

It was a brilliant little supper party, and Mr. Sabin contributed at least his share to the general entertainment. Before they dispersed he had to bring out his tablets to make notes of his engagements. He stood on the top of the steps above the palm-court to wish them good-bye, leaning on his stick. Helene turned back and waved her hand.

"He is unchanged," she murmured, "yet I fear that there must be trouble."

"Why? He seemed cheerful enough," her husband remarked.

She dropped her voice a little.

"Lucille is in London. She is staying at Dorset House."

CHAPTER X

Mr. Sabin was deep in thought. He sat in an easy-chair with his back to the window, his hands crossed upon his stick, his eyes fixed upon the fire. Duson was moving noiselessly about the room, cutting the morning's supply of newspapers and setting them out upon the table. His master was in a mood which he had been taught to respect. It was Mr. Sabin who broke the silence.

"Duson!"

"Your Grace!"

"I have always, as you know, ignored your somewhat anomalous position as the servant of one man and the slave of a society. The questions which I am about to ask you you can answer or not, according to your own apprehensions of what is due to each."

"I thank your Grace!"

"My departure from America seemed to incite the most violent opposition on the part of your friends. As you know, it was with a certain amount of difficulty that I reached this country. Now, however, I am left altogether alone. I have not received a single warning letter. My comings and goings, although purposely devoid of the slightest secrecy, are absolutely undisturbed. Yet I have some reason to believe that your mistress is in London."

"Your Grace will pardon me," Duson said, "but there is outside a gentleman waiting to see you to whom you might address the same questions with better results, for compared with him I know nothing. It is Monsieur Felix."

"Why have you kept him waiting?" Mr. Sabin asked.

"Your Grace was much absorbed," Duson answered.

Felix was smoking a cigarette, and Mr. Sabin greeted him with a certain grim cordiality.

"Is this permitted--this visit?" he asked, himself selecting a cigarette and motioning his guest to a chair.

"It is even encouraged," Felix answered.

"You have perhaps some message?"

"None."

"I am glad to see you," Mr. Sabin said. "Just now I am a little puzzled.

I will put the matter to you. You shall answer or not, at your own discretion."

"I am ready," Felix declared.

"You know the difficulty with which I escaped from America," Mr. Sabin continued. "Every means which ingenuity could suggest seemed brought to bear against me. And every movement was directed, if not from here, from some place in Europe. Well, I arrived here four days ago. I live quite openly, I have even abjured to some extent my incognito. Yet I have not received even a warning letter. I am left absolutely undisturbed."

Felix looked at him thoughtfully.

"And what do you deduce from this?" he asked.

"I do not like it," Mr. Sabin answered drily.

"After all," Felix remarked, "it is to some extent natural. The very openness of your life here makes interference with you more difficult, and as to warning letters--well, you have proved the uselessness of them."

"Perhaps," Mr. Sabin answered. "At the same time, if I were a superst.i.tious person I should consider this inaction ominous."