“Anyhow,” said Cecil, “let us go down and hear about Ghent.”
His eyes made a number of remarks (indulgent, angry, amused, protective, admiring, perspicacious, puzzled), too subtle for the medium of words.
They groped their way down to earth in silence, and it was in silence that they crossed the Grande Place. The Count was seated on the terrasse in front of the hotel, with a liqueur glass before him, and he was making graceful and expressive signs to Kitty Sartorius, who leaned her marvellous beauty out of a first-storey window. He greeted Cecil Thorold and Eve with an equal grace.
“And how is Ghent?” Cecil inquired.
“Did you go to Ghent, after all, Count?” Eve put in. The Comte d’Avrec looked from one to another, and then, instead of replying, he sipped at his glass. “No,” he said, “I didn’t go. The rather curious fact is that I happened to meet Madame Lawrence, who offered to show me her collection of lace. I have been an amateur of lace for some years, and really Madame Lawrence’s collection is amazing. You have seen it? No? You should do so. I’m afraid I have spent most of the day there.”
When the Count had gone to join Kitty in the drawing-room, Eve Fincastle looked victoriously at Cecil, as if to demand of him: “Will you apologise?”
“My dear journalist,” Cecil remarked simply, “you gave the show away.”
That evening the continued obstinacy of the bracelet, which still refused to be caught, began at last to disturb the birdlike mind of Kitty Sartorius. Moreover, the secret was out, and the whole town of Bruges was discussing the episode and the chances of success.
“Let us consult Planchette,” said the Count. The proposal was received with enthusiasm by Kitty. Eve had disappeared.
Planchette was produced; and when asked if the bracelet would be recovered, it wrote, under the hands of Kitty and the Count, a trembling “Yes.” When asked: “By whom?” it wrote a word which faintly resembled “Avrec.”