She started. "Has she never mentioned Lord Amberdale to you?" she asked.
"Amberdale?" I repeated, with a queer sinking of the heart. "No, Mrs. Titus. An Englishman?"
She was mistress of herself once more. In a very degage manner she informed me that his lordship, a most attractive and honourable young Englishman, had been one of Aline's warmest friends at the time of the divorce proceedings. But, of course, there was nothing in that! They had been good friends for years, nothing more, and he was a perfect dear.
But she couldn't fool me. I could see that there was something working at the back of her mind, but whether she was distressed or gratified I was not by way of knowing.
"I've never heard her mention Lord Amberdale," said I.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Had I but known, the mere fact that the Countess had not spoken of his lordship provided her experienced mother with an excellent reason for believing that there was something between them. She abruptly brought the conversation to a close and left me, saying that she was off for her beauty nap.
Alone, I soon became a prey to certain disquieting thoughts. Summed up, they resolved themselves into a condition of certainty which admitted of but one aspect: the charming Countess was in love with Amberdale. And the shocking part of it all was that she was in love with him prior to her separation from Tarnowsy! I felt a cold perspiration start out all over my body as this condition forced itself upon me. He was the man; he had been the man from the beginning. My heart was like lead for the rest of the day, and, very curiously, for a leaden thing it was subject to pain.
Just before dinner, Britton, after inspecting me out of the corner of his eye for some time, advised me to try a little brandy.
"You look seedy, sir," he said with concern in his voice. "A cold setting in perhaps, sir."
I tried the brandy, but not because I thought I was taking a cold. Somehow it warmed me up. There is virtue in good spirits.