"Ah!" she exclaimed, quickly, "you surprise me. And the woman—is she found?"
"According to Count Mellikoff's despatches he does not doubt his soon having her in his power," answered Ivor, slowly. "But as we know, mademoiselle, there is considerable truth in the old saying about the cup and the lip. Even Count Mellikoff may find himself mistaken."
"And you?" she asked, still with averted head, and in her assumed careless voice. "May not you be mistaken? It would seem that this—this woman—whom you say you saw, must after all, have been but a delusion of your too ready imagination, since Count Mellikoff is so certain of his success."
"No, I am not mistaken, mademoiselle," answered Ivor, gravely. "When Count Mellikoff returns victorious, it will be my turn to win distinction; and he who wins last wins best, you know. When that time comes, Olga, I shall claim my reward, and you will give it to me."
"Your reward?" she questioned, turning her face towards him at last, and looking up straight into his eyes.
"Yes, my reward," he replied, "my reward, which will indeed have been hardly won."
He stooped and lifted her hand. "This hand, Olga, this little slender hand; that is what I shall claim, and that is what you will give to me."
She made him no answer, save to let her fingers lie passively in his. Presently he bent and kissed them, then quietly putting her hand down, he turned and walked from her.
When near the great doors he looked back. She was sitting as he had left her, passive and unmoved, with the shadows cast by the lightly swaying curtains half shielding her face, and the grey darkness of the starless sky for a background.
Her hand lay as he had put it down, motionless upon her lap.