“Insults! What insults?”
Audrey looked at him askance. She had a very shrewd suspicion that he must have heard all about it already, but she said:—
“Lord Clanfield came here the day before yesterday, and accused me of being a woman called the ‘White Countess,’ who was concerned in the death of a man. She was the keeper of a Paris gaming-house. But of course you knew. And I want to learn how, knowing her as you must have done, you dared to advise me to call myself by the name of such a woman!”
Horribly frightened by her own boldness, Audrey poured out this tirade at a rapid rate, trying by firmness and clearness of tone to deceive herself into thinking that she was not horribly alarmed.
Mr. Candover took it very quietly, and after a short pause laughed.
“I see, I see. I was afraid those young cubs would frighten you!”
“Lord Clanfield,” interrupted Audrey sharply, “requested me not to admit them into my house.”
“I should imagine you were not very anxious to admit them,” said Mr. Candover. “Nobody else is. As for Lord Clanfield, he’s an old crank; won’t allow bagatelle on Sundays—if anybody ever wants to play that innocent game on that or any other day! And as for the young cubs, they wouldn’t come to much harm here or anywhere else, for there’s very little they don’t know! I’m very angry that you should have been annoyed by the old fool, but he’s an annoyance to everybody. You didn’t let him know you were his nephew’s wife?”
“No—o—o, though I rather wish I had!” sighed Audrey. “But I told him I was not Madame Rocada, and what I want to know is why you, who must have known all about there being a real woman of that name, the keeper of a gaming-house, should have advised me to call myself by it!”
Her tone was fierce and angry, and Mr. Candover grew earnest as he answered.