Mrs. May did leave the house in the course of the morning, all smiles and blandishments. She had a particularly tender word and squeeze of the hand for Geoffrey, whom she pressed in a whisper to come and see her before long.
"I will," Geoffrey replied. "You may rely upon that."
It was with a feeling of intense relief that he was rid of her. It seemed hard to believe that the smiling polished woman of the world, the dernière cri of Western civilization, should be one and the same with the fanatic princess of the fanatical East.
There was something wild and bizarre about the very suggestion. There was one last smile for every one but Marion, who had not appeared, and Mrs. May was gone.
Geoffrey made his way up to his uncle's room. There he found the two friends smoking. Tchigorsky looked at him from behind a cloud of thin smoke.
"You have news, my young friend," said Tchigorsky. "I see it in your eyes."
"I have the most important news," said Geoffrey, "only it does not convey any impression to me. It is a discovery of Vera's. She had a fine adventure last night. She was not sure whether or not she had seen your murder, Tchigorsky."
"Say on," Tchigorsky said calmly. "Say on, my boy."
Geoffrey said on accordingly. He fully expected to surprise his hearers, and he was not disappointed. Every word he said was followed with rapt attention.