“It is for his sake,” she said to herself, “not for hers;” and as, apparently prompted by a whisper from Lady Grayson, the blood flushed into the Conte’s face again and he fixed his eyes on his wife, Cornel stepped forward and held out her hand.
“Good-bye, Mr Dale,” she said gently; “you have business with this lady and gentleman; we shall see you another time. Come, signora.”
She turned and held out her hand to Valentina, proving herself a better actress, for there was a smile upon her lip, and she bent forward as if whispering something through the veil, the only utterances being the words—
“Don’t hesitate. Quick!”
Valentina stared at her—half stunned. Then, as if moved by a stronger will than her own, she laid one white hand on Cornel’s arm, and, just bending her head to Armstrong, they moved slowly toward the door.
It was the left hand, and ungloved.
Cornel saw it, and could not restrain a start.
The hand was ungloved, and upon it sparkled several rings—for there had been no need of late to keep up the disguise so closely—and one of those rings was of plain gold.
They were nearly at the door, the Conte drawing back on one side to let them pass, Lady Grayson on the other, Armstrong still motionless, and feeling as if a hand were compressing his throat, while Cornel, as she went on with the set smile upon her lip, felt that the hand upon her arm trembled, and fancied she heard a sob.
“It is for his sake,” she said to herself, “for his sake;” and the next minute they would have been outside the door, when, with one quick movement, Lady Grayson reached out her hand, and snatched the veil from Valentina’s face.