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Page 41
He turned to his companion, the fresh-faced boy, and introduced him to
Jack as the Honorable Bertie Raven. The two shook hands cordially, and
exchanged a few commonplace words.
"Come on; we've held up this corner long enough," exclaimed Drexell.
"Let's go and lunch together somewhere. I'll leave it to you, Raven.
Name your place."
"Prince's, then," was the prompt rejoinder.
As they walked along Piccadilly the Honorable Bertie was forced ahead by
the narrowness of the pavement and the jostling crowds, and Drexell
whispered at Jack's ear:
"A good sort, that young chap. I met him in New York a year ago. His
next eldest brother, the Honorable George, is over there now. I believe
he is going to marry a cousin of mine--a girl who will come into a pot
of money when her governor dies."
* * * * *
Nine o'clock at night, and a room in Beak street, Regent street; a back
apartment looking into a dingy court, furnished with a sort of tawdry,
depressing luxury, and lighted by a pair of candles. A richly dressed
woman who had once been extremely handsome, and still retained more than
a trace of her charms, half reclined on a couch; a fluffy mass of
coppery-red hair had escaped from under her hat, and shaded her large
eyes; shame and confusion, mingled with angry defiance, deepened the
artificial blush on her cheeks.
Victor Nevill stood in the middle of the floor, confronting her with a
faint, mocking smile at his lips. He had not taken the trouble to remove
his hat. He wore evening dress, with a light cloak over it, and he
twirled a stick carelessly between his gloved fingers.
"So it is really you!" he said.
"If you came to sneer at me, go!" the woman answered spitefully. "You
have your revenge. How did you find me?"
"It was not easy, but I persevered--"
"Why?"
"For a purpose. I will tell you presently. And do not think that I came
to sneer. I am sorry for you--grieved to find you struggling in the
vortex of London." He looked about the room, which, indeed, told a plain
story. "You were intended for better things," he added. "Where is Count
Nordhoff?"
"He left me--three years ago."
"I wouldn't mind betting that you cleaned him out, and then heartlessly
turned him adrift."
"You are insolent!"
"And I dare say you have had plenty of others since. What has become of
the Jew?"
The woman's eyes flashed like a tiger's.
"I wish I had him here now!" she cried. "He deserted me--broke a hundred
promises. I have not seen him for a week."
"You are suffering heavily for the past."
"For the past!" the woman echoed dully. "Victor," she said with a sudden
change of voice, "_you_ loved me once--"
"Yes, once. But you crushed that love--killed it forever. No stage
sentiment, please. Understand that, plainly."
The brief hope died out of the woman's eyes, and was replaced by a gleam
of hatred. She looked at the man furiously.
"There is no need to fly into a passion," said Nevill. "We can at least
be friends. I cherish no ill-feeling--I pity you sincerely. And yet you
are still beautiful enough to turn some men's heads. How are you off for
money?"
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