Roland took two or three puffs at his cigar, and surrounded himself with a little cloud of smoke. Then he rose and stood with his back to the fire, and in that attitude he looked, Litvinoff thought, uncommonly like his brother.
'Look here,' he said slowly, 'according to the laws of etiquette and all that sort of thing, I have known you far too short a time to think of talking to you about my relations with my brother, but I am horribly perplexed about him; and since he has let you know that there is something wrong between us, I may as well tell you all I know about it. I need hardly say that all I say to you is said in strict confidence.'
The Count bowed.
'For some time we have not been upon the very best of terms; but that's neither here nor there. There was nothing seriously wrong between us. This morning, without any apparent cause, he made a kind of veiled accusation against me, which I could not understand, and even went so far as to tell me I ought not to go near—'
He hesitated. Litvinoff made an interrogatory movement, which prevented his stopping short, as he seemed inclined to do.
'Miss Stanley,' he ended.
'Ah, so?' said the other, raising his eyebrows, and looking sympathetically interested.
'We had a sharp word; but I should not have thought much more of it if it hadn't been for what came later. This afternoon I was going to see a man you introduced me to the other night, Lenoir, who, I thought, I remembered lived in Porson Street.'
'Ah, yes, it was Porson Street your brother named,' interrupted Litvinoff.
'As I was looking about for him I fancied I caught sight of you, but it was foggy, and when I followed the man into a house, it turned out not to be you. At least, I suppose not.'