“Stop all tattling amongst the servants,” he said. “Her ladyship is not well—a strange seizure to-day. It must be past the dinner hour.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Let it be served at once.”
The butler bowed, and went out solemnly.
The moment he was alone, a sharp grating sound was heard, and a strange look came over the Conte’s face as he hastily opened a cabinet, took something from a drawer, and placed it in his breast pocket. Then, hurrying upstairs, he satisfied himself of the truth of all he had heard, and descended, took his hat from the stand and went out quietly, unheard, even by the servants.
Meanwhile Valentina had walked straight to the studio.
The street-door was ajar, for Keren-Happuch had just gone into the next street to post a letter at the pillar, so the closely veiled woman passed in unseen, and went upstairs, stood for a few moments listening, and then softly entered.
She uttered a low sigh of relief, glad to have entered the place which, for the moment, felt to her like a sanctuary.
It was many hours since she had been surprised there by her husband and Lady Grayson; but to her then it seemed only a few minutes before, and she looked round the great dim room quickly, with a smile upon her lips.
But the smile froze there, and a horrible sensation of fear came over her. She had waited too long. There must have been a challenge from her husband, and Armstrong had responded. The street-door open; the studio unfastened; and this dim light! Then she was too late: he had gone. But where? Belgium? France? The thought was horrible—almost more than she could bear.