The paleness of Carson under his tan had once more given place to an inartistic-grey tint, and his eyes were dull; but he appeared strangely composed.
"Nothing, Bram," he said. "Only to find the girl you love—less than nothing."
A cry broke upon their ears, and all started and stared about them, especially at the open door of Carson's room, from whence that muffled, involuntary sound had come. A stiffness came over them; their masks slipped on. What unknown person had listened to the wild words that had been spoken?
Suddenly Bram remembered the sensations and scents that had assailed him earlier in the night; catching up the same pink-shaded lamp, he once more entered Carson's room. He gave one searching glance about him, and then instinct took him to the only possible cover—a narrow curtained recess in which to hang clothes. He thrust his hand between the curtains. Mary Capron spared him further trouble—she swept out from the recess, and from the room, giving him one burning glance of hatred as she passed.
In the dining-room she stood still, the centre of attraction for the second time that night. Her cloak had fallen from her shoulders, and her beautifully-coiffé hair was ruffled and limp, her eyes were long gleams of topaz light in a carved-stone face. And for some reason she poured the full measure of her rage and scorn upon poor Bramham, who had dazedly followed her, stepping carefully to avoid her train, and standing there now with the little pink lamp in his hand.
"Have you peered and pried enough?" she asked, piercing him with her eyes. "Is your curiosity satisfied—now that you have dragged me out? I came here to speak to Evelyn Carson—hearing voices, I foolishly hid.... Is your taste for scandal appeased?"
Poor, gallant, woman-loving Bramham! He paled and started, like a man who has unexpectedly been struck in the face; then, turning, still dazed, he walked away with the lamp in his hand from the room, and from the house—his house! In the pathway he discovered the lamp in his hand and put all his strength and disgust into flinging the hapless thing with a crash into a bush.
In the room the girl, still sitting in her chair, but with an awakening look of amazement and hope upon her face, said some words very softly to Mary Capron:
"So you lied! ... false woman! ... and base friend!"
But Mary Capron turned from her. Shaking with rage and defeat, she flung a torrent of low, rushing words at Carson.