Olga's face changed. She had a wondering lost, pained look.
"Mr. Otway, are you sure of that?"
"Well, pretty sure. Dan has talked of it more than once, and I don't think he could talk as he does if there wasn't a real grievance. I'm very much afraid he was cheated. Perhaps I oughtn't to use that word; I daresay Dan had no right to ask money for the letters at all. But there was a bargain, and I'm afraid it wasn't honourably kept on the other side."
Olga reflected for a moment, and rose, saying that she was obliged, that this ended her business. Alexander's curiosity sought to prolong the conversation, but in vain. He then threw out a word concerning his professional interests; would the lady permit him to bespeak her countenance for a new singer, an Irish girl of great talent, who would be coming out very shortly?
"She has a magnificent song, madam! The very spirit of Patriotism—stirring, stirring! Let me offer you one of her photos. Miss Ennis Corthy—you'll soon see the announcements."
Olga drove away in a troubled dream.
CHAPTER XXXV
"The 13th will suit admirably," wrote Helen Borisoff.
"That morning my guests leave, and we shall be quiet—except for the popping of guns round about. Which reminds me that my big, healthy Englishman of a cousin (him you met in town) will be down here to slaughter little birds in aristocratic company, and may most likely look in to tell us of his bags. I will meet you at the station."