“I have heard—of nothing of the sort,” Mr. Brott said, looking up startled. Then, after a moment’s pause, during which he studied closely his companion’s imperturbable face, he added the question which forced its way to his lips.
“Have you?”
Mr. Sabin looked along his cigarette and pinched it affectionately. It was one of his own, which he had dexterously substituted for those which his host had placed at his disposal.
“The Countess is a very charming, a very beautiful, and a most attractive woman,” he said slowly. “Her marriage has always seemed to me a matter of certainty.”
Mr. Brott hesitated, and was lost.
“You are an old friend of hers,” he said. “You perhaps know more of her recent history than I do. For a time she seemed to drop out of my life altogether. Now that she has come back I am very anxious to persuade her to marry me.”
A single lightning-like flash in Mr. Sabin’s eyes for a moment disconcerted his host. But, after all, it was gone with such amazing suddenness that it left behind it a sense of unreality. Mr. Brott decided that after all it must have been fancy.
“May I ask,” Mr. Sabin said quietly, “whether the Countess appears to receive your suit with favour?”
Mr. Brott hesitated.
“I am afraid I cannot go so far as to say that she does,” he said regretfully. “I do not know why I find myself talking on this matter to you. I feel that I should apologise for giving such a personal turn to the conversation.”