Involuntarily he looked across at the other table. Davis and Miss Fayard had their heads together over the menu. Madame Ghita was sitting with folded hands gazing calmly across at Selden and the countess. The latter had looked at her too, and so she knew of course that they were talking about her.
Selden abruptly changed the subject.
“Did you know young Davis’s father?” he asked.
“Yes—he came to see my father quite often. They were good friends. He was a very genuine, human man. He and my father and Jeneski used to sit for hours talking about all sorts of things.”
“Jeneski also?”
“Yes. He was a sort of deputy for Mr. Davis in keeping the people in order. They were together a great deal.”
The waiter had cleared the table and placed the coffee before them. The sommelier, at a nod from Selden, filled two tiny glasses with golden Benedictine.
“Jeneski is a remarkable man,” said Selden slowly. “I found him very fascinating. I should think he would be especially so to women.”
“He is,” agreed the countess quietly; “the more so because he finds women less fascinating than politics. Oh, how do you do, Mr. Halsey,” she added, in another tone.
It was indeed Halsey, who passed on with a curt nod, sat down at a table facing them and ordered coffee and liqueur. And looking at his sardonic face, Selden began to glimpse the countess’s motive in insisting on this dinner; she had need of Halsey—she herself had said so—and she was disciplining him when he proved recalcitrant. Well, one thing was certain; he wasn’t going to be used as a stalking-horse for Halsey. If he could only fathom the game the countess was playing....