“General Noseworthy is just returned from India, Colonel Mayson,” Korust said, in his usual quiet, tired tone. “You will, perhaps, find it interesting to talk together a little. As for me, I play because all are polite enough to wish it, but conversation disturbs me not in the least.”
Peter passed, smiling, on to the corner pointed out by his companion, which was the darkest and most secluded in the room. He took her fan and gloves, lit her cigarette, and leaned back by her side.
“How does your brother, a stranger to London, find time to make the acquaintance of so many interesting people?” he asked.
“He brought many letters,” she replied. “He has friends everywhere.”
“I have an idea,” Peter remarked, “that an acquaintance of my own, the Count von Hern, spoke to me once about him.”
She took her cigarette from her lips and turned her head slightly. Peter’s expression was one of amiable reminiscence. His cheeks were a trifle flushed, his appearance was entirely reassuring. She laughed at her brother’s caution. She found her companion delightful.
“Yes, the Count von Hern is a friend of my brother’s,” she admitted, carelessly.
“And of yours?” he whispered, his arm slightly pressed against hers.
She laughed at him silently and their eyes met. Decidedly Peter, Baron de Grost, found it hard to break away from his old weakness! Andrea Korust, from his place near the piano, breathed a sigh of relief as he watched. A moment or two later, however, Mademoiselle Korust was obliged to leave her companion to receive a late but unimportant guest, and almost simultaneously Colonel Mayson passed by on his way to the farther end of the apartment. Andrea Korust was bending over the piano to give some instructions to his accompanist. Peter leaned forward and his face and tone were strangely altered.
“You will find General Noseworthy of the Indian Army a little inquisitive, Colonel,” he remarked.