The silver tones of a gong echoing up from below aroused her and she sprang to her feet, her clenched hands pressed to her burning temples. For an instant she stood swaying in the intensity of some all but overmastering emotion. Then her hands fell to her sides, revealing again the mask of disingenuousness.
But behind it there lurked, not wholly concealed, an air of joyous triumph, and she glanced exultantly about her as if out of all the world, the shelter of this roof had been her goal, and in winning her way into the household she had brought some deep-laid plan to consummation.
While she hesitated at the stair's foot, Mrs. Atterbury's voice summoned her to the drawing-room, where she found beside her employer a sallow little woman, dull-eyed and slender to the point of angularity, who was presented as Madame Cimmino. As Betty responded timidly to the conventional greeting another figure came forward from a shadowed corner and paused, smiling and urbane.
"Betty, this is an old friend, Mr. Wolvert." An odd smile twisted Mrs. Atterbury's attenuated lips. "Don't make love to Miss Shaw, Jack. She seeks sanctuary with me from the world, the flesh and the devil."
"Dear lady!" He raised a deprecating hand before extending it to the shrinking girl. "You malign me! Let me assure you of your immunity from evil here, Miss Shaw. Our hostess tolerates no serpents in her garden, as you will find."
The man's tone was smooth and unctuous, but there was an undercurrent deeper than mere mockery in the careless words, and Mrs. Atterbury's eyes glittered dangerously, although she shrugged in cold distaste.
"Shall we go in? Cook times her soufflés to the instant and she is the only mortal before whom I quail. Come, Speranza."
Madame Cimmino laid her hand lightly on Jack Wolvert's arm as she passed him, but his gaze was riveted upon the girl, and followed her slim figure curiously until the curtains fell behind her.
"She is attractive, this new little one, eh?" Madame Cimmino had halted in the doorway and there was a hard ring in her voice. "It is an added charm, perhaps, that brand upon her face!"
"Don't be absurd, 'Ranza." The man frowned impatiently. "There's something queer about that girl, something oddly reminiscent. I could almost swear I had seen her before, or at least heard her voice."