Eustace knew more about Mrs. Veilsturm than she cared he should know, as he had met her at Lima, in South America, when she was--well, not Mrs. Veilsturm--and he judged a woman of her harpy-like nature would not strive to annex anyone but a rich man. Guy was not rich, so Eustace thought she would leave him alone--a most fatal mistake, as he had unconsciously placed Cleopatra's revenge within her grasp. Mrs. Veilsturm had neither forgiven nor forgotten the deadly insult offered to her by Lady Errington, but hitherto, owing to Guy's devotion to his wife, had been unable to entangle him in any way. Now, however, Fate was playing into her hands, and when she received a note from Eustace, asking if he might bring his cousin to the house in Park Lane she felt a savage delight at such a stroke of unforeseen luck, but, being too clever a woman to compromise her scheme in any way, wrote a cold reply to Mr. Gartney, telling him he could bring Sir Guy Errington--if he liked.
Of course Eustace did like, and as Guy, who had quite forgotten all about the episode between Mrs. Veilsturm and his wife, listlessly acquiesced, they both arrived at Cleopatra's "At Home" somewhere about five o'clock.
"I seem to remember the name," said Guy, as they struggled up the crowded stairs.
"You certainly ought to," responded Eustace, "seeing that she is about the best-known person in Town."
"Ah, but you see I'm a country cousin now," said Guy with a faint smile. "Hang it! what a crush there is here."
"That's the art of giving an 'At Home,'" answered Eustace drily, "you put fifty people who hate one another in a room built to hold twenty, and when they're thoroughly uncomfortable you give them bad music, weak tea, and thin bread-and-butter. After an hour of these delights they go away in a rollicking humour to another Sardine Party. Oh, it's most amusing, I assure you, and--well, here we are, and here is Mrs. Veilsturm."
Cleopatra had certainly not lost any of her charms, and looked as imperious and majestic as ever, standing in the centre of her guests, arrayed in a startling costume of black and yellow, which gave her a strange, barbaric appearance. There was no doubt that she wore too many diamonds, but this was due to her African love for ornaments, and with every movement of her body the gems flashed out sparkles of light in the mellow twilight of the room.
A foreign musician, with long hair and pale face, was playing some weird Eastern dance on the piano as Eustace entered and bowed before her, and it suddenly flashed across his mind that this sensuously beautiful woman was quite out of place amid these cold English blondes and undecided brunettes. She ought to be tossing her slender arms in a tropical forest, to the shrill music of pipes and muffled throbbing of serpent-skin drums, whirling in the mystic gyrations of some sacred dance before the shrine of a veiled goddess. The sickly odour of pastilles, which she was fond of burning in her drawing-room, assisted this fancy, and he was only roused from this strange vision by the mellow voice of his hostess bidding him welcome, as she touched his hand with her slender fingers.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Gartney," she said, with a slow smile; "it is indeed kind of you to call so soon after your return. And your friend, whom you were to bring?"
"Is here," replied Eustace, presenting his cousin, "Sir Guy Errington."