Ghita. Selden repeated the word to himself, for it had awakened some faint echo of recognition in his brain. Ghita. Where had he heard that before? For the life of him he couldn’t remember.
“She looks like a clever woman,” he said.
“She is clever,” agreed Davis; “the cleverest woman I’ve ever known.” He spoke as though he had known hundreds.
“Is she a Pole?” asked Selden. “Poles are sometimes very clever—and the name sounds Polish.”
“Oh, that’s her husband’s name,” said Davis. “I don’t know for sure, but I fancy she’s French.”
Again some memory stirred in Selden’s brain, more strongly. Her husband’s name. Ghita. And then it came like a flash.
Ghita—that was the family name of the old dynasty—the family name of the prince....
CHAPTER VI
ON THE SHORTCOMINGS OF REPUBLICS
SELDEN did not attempt to explain to himself his sudden interest in this fascinating unknown, but he was determined to find out about her all that he could. His first impulse had been to chide Davis for not introducing him, but he suppressed it. If the lady was married—and especially if she was married to a Ghita—Davis might not have felt himself a free agent, though Selden doubted if he was even aware of the continental point of view in that regard. More probably it was merely lack of savoir faire. Even without an introduction, the lady had not hesitated to address him. She was not, then, too much bound by convention. But this was not a drawing-room—it was the Sporting Club at Monte Carlo. And she was not drinking tea; she was playing chemin-de-fer. These were points that were worth thinking over.
Selden offered Davis a cigarette, before lighting one himself, but Davis did not see it. His eyes were still fixed on the door through which the women had disappeared. Evidently the net was already around him.