"And is still?"
"But—of course! I do not change. Yet we are to be friends and nothing more until all is made clear—until even your cousin believes in me and doesn't think you'd be better dead than loving Lyda Pavoya. If that day could ever come!"
"It will come—soon. Oh, Lyda, remember that first night—at your house. You let me hold you in my arms then."
"But that was as a friend. You understood, I know! I was so stirred, so hard pressed, I wanted protection from someone sincere. And you were the sincerest man I ever saw."
"Yes, I did understand. I do now. And—I won't bother you, Lyda—though it's hard work, this friendship business to a man who worships a beautiful woman as I worship you. But it's a bargain: friendship till—the day. May it be to-morrow!"
"Amen!" she echoed, with one of her fleeting smiles that came so seldom. "Now let us talk not of ourselves but of your cousin. We ought to have begun with her!"
"No!"
"Yes. Because there may be danger. I'll tell you quickly all I know. You have met a friend—an acquaintance—of mine, the Comtesse de Saintville?"
"Oh, yes—wife of a diplomat of sorts, isn't she? I've heard you were intimate."
"That isn't true; but she has Polish blood, and for that or some other reason she likes to come to my house. I have been able to do her a good turn now and then. I wouldn't tell this to any one except you, mon ami, but she's a great bridge player, and loses more money than she ought. Lately she got into a bad—what you call scrape. She asked me to lend her a thousand dollars (you see, she dared not let her husband know!) but I couldn't. It was when I was putting aside every sou for Markoff. I could do nothing except promise to help later. I do not love Sonia de Saintville, yet I am sorry for her. I was afraid that in desperation she would do some stupid thing! The other day I had a windfall. A friend in Paris who'd borrowed fifty thousand francs sent it back to me. I'd never expected to see the money again! So I 'phoned Sonia that now I could let her have the thousand dollars. She answered that a thousand would no longer be of use. But two thousand would save her. From the way she spoke, I understood that things were very grave. I said she should have the two thousand. She came to my house and I gave it to her in notes. I hadn't seen her for days, and she was looking ill—changed. I spoke kindly to the poor thing, and she broke down. It is the confession she made which will interest you, my friend. You would never guess! She had got into the power of that Inner Circle band."