By the time that Maitrank had bowed with humility over the hand of his hostess the following evening nearly all fashionable London had gathered in those spacious suites of rooms. The decorations were superb, unique; there was no better music to be obtained in Europe. Folk were talking with bated breath of the great chef who had come from Paris to superintend his supper.
It was the crowning glory of a wonderful woman's career. She stood smiling before her guests in a dress that had cost Worth a sleepless night. A duke was just congratulating her upon her good taste. A couple of gorgeous footmen were casting back the curtains of the supper room. Down below in the hall something like an altercation seemed to be going on.
"It's a man, my lady," a blushing footman stammered. "He declines to go away. I called in a policeman, and he showed him a paper, after which the police went, saying it seemed all right and legal or something like that. The fellow says he must see you."
Perhaps a creditor beyond all patience and in desperate need of money. Leona Lalage sailed out of the room into the hall, where two seedy-looking men awaited her.
"Well, what is it you want tonight?" she demanded, haughtily.
A long slip of paper was thrust into her hand. Her quick brain grasped the significance. Maitrank had struck, and struck hard. These men were in possession for nearly £100,000--vulgar bailiffs such as come and sell the goods of poor people who cannot pay their rent. Leona Lalage remembered now the conditions under which she had borrowed money from Maitrank. He had her in his power. It seemed a vile thing to do when she had put him off with the very jewels from about her neck. And she was powerless--she could not have these men turned into the street. Most of her guests would understand sooner or later. Tomorrow this would be public property. Once the tongue of rumour started the crash was bound to follow.
Leona Lalage looked round her helplessly for the first time in her life. Maitrank stood there grinning like a hideous mask enjoying her confusion. He had come to enjoy this where a more sensitive man would have stayed away. Revenge to him was nothing unless he could feast his eyes upon it.
"You scoundrel, you cur!" she hissed. "If I had a weapon in my hand, I would kill you and die happy. Why have you done this thing?"
"Why do you foist me off with paste jewels?" Maitrank asked, coolly. "Ah you may stare with amazement! You are a very clever actress, madam."
"Paste?" Lalage gasped. "Paste! Why for their sake--impossible!"