"But what purpose?" I cried passionately. "What purpose could she serve?"
"The devil knows!" he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "It is of a woman we are speaking--you forget that."
I flung open the window noisily, in a desire to attract their attention and observe how the Countess would take our discovery of her interview. But she paid not the slightest heed to the sound. Elmscott made a sudden dash to the door.
"Culverton!" he cried over the baluster.
I tried to check him, for I had no wish that Culverton's meddlesome fingers should pry into the matter. I was too late, however; he entered the room, and Elmscott drew him to the open window.
"Burn me, but 'tis the oddest thing!" he smirked.
For a minute or so we stood watching the couple in silence. Then the Countess dropped her fan, and as Marston stooped to pick it up she shot one quick glance towards us. Her companion handed her the fan, and they resumed the promenade. But they took no more than half a turn before the Countess signalled to the porters, and getting into the chair, was carried off. Marston waited until she was out of sight, with his hat in his hand, and then cocking it jauntily on his head, marched off in the opposite direction. The satisfaction of his manner made my blood boil with rage.
"The conceited ass!" I cried, stamping my feet.
"She heard the window open after all," said Elmscott.
As for Culverton, he tittered the more.