At Patty's name thrust thus sharply and unexpectedly upon him, Philip started forward, impelled by the same unknown, unreasoning force that had held and controlled him throughout their interview, but he was too late. He was conscious of a light silken rustle, a low laugh, a hand laid for a moment on his, and then he was alone.
As Mdlle. Lamien drew the portières behind her, two figures crept back into the obscurity of the room beyond, and as she passed swiftly on and out into the hall, a whisper in a woman's voice echoed across the shadows:
"Are you satisfied—convinced? There is no mistake?"
"I am absolutely convinced, mademoiselle, there can be no mistake," answered a second, carefully modulated voice.
A moment later Miss James stole quietly out of the now dark library, followed by the sombre, gliding figure of Vladimir Mellikoff.
CHAPTER XI.
INTROSPECTION.
The party at the Folly had broken up at last, and, going the way of all things terrestrial, was already numbered among the pleasures of the have been.
Mrs. Newbold had flitted seaward with little Marianne, her husband, her maid, and a small army of dress-baskets and boxes. The golden glory of July held the gardens and woods, the terraces and parterres, in the spell of midsummer colouring; flinging abroad with generous hand its meed of sunshine, its wealth of fruit, its richness of blossom, its long hours of fullest beauty, when the intense blue heavens above, the smiling earth below, and the very atmosphere of soft delicious haze seemed to palpitate with their own tropical luxuriance.