"Pavoya must have been at the house while Juliet was lunching with me," she told herself. "I shouldn't wonder if the Duke had sold his pearls. Won't Juliet be wild if she finds out the wonderful rope everyone was talking about last night was false?"
Natalie grew so absorbed in settling just what she would write to Emmy West that she did not even speak to Billy when he went out. She was sure he was going to the "Plunderers," and she was right. Nevertheless, she had made one mistake about him. He had told the truth in saying that he did not know the name of the man to whom Claremanagh had handed a roll of notes. He did, however, wish to know, and as soon as possible. But he arrived to find everyone talking of "the 'Whisperer' stuff" in the Inner Circle. Most of the men were defending the Duke, who had an extraordinary way of making himself liked without trying; and this vexed Lowndes. He had a grudge against Claremanagh for marrying Juliet Phayre, the only girl who bad ever given him a heartache. Losing her and getting Natalie had made him the man he was.
"What I want to find out is, who is the chap Claremanagh paid about a hundred thousand dollars to last night, here in this club?" he said.
"A hundred thousand dollars?" somebody echoed. "How do you know?"
"I do know," Lowndes persisted, provocatively, and made up his mind to stick to the statement. "I do know. And what I'd like to know also, in the circumstances, is how did he get the money?"
"Ask the winds!" laughed the other.
"Easier to ask his wife."
"You believe she knows?"
"No, not how he got the stuff. But I guess she thinks she knows, which is just as interesting."
Juliet was utterly indifferent that night as to whether or not her thoughts were interesting to outsiders. Pat and herself filled the world for her. There was no one else—not even Jack Manners—who existed for her after she had read the "Whisperer": except Lyda Pavoya. But the Polish dancer was not for Juliet a fellow-being. She was a Lure-light, a Mermaid, a Siren.