CHAPTER VIII
Herman and Olga occupied one of the finest residences in Park Lane. It had been built by a wealthy nobleman and completed with a princely disregard for expenditure. It stood in the center of a considerable park, surrounded by trees and gardens.
Preparations were already going forward for the ball when Herman and Olga reached home. Decorators were putting the finishing touches on the magnificent ballroom. Florists were banking ferns and potted plants along the stairs and halls. All was bustle and preparation. Herman delightedly went forward and examined every detail of the work. Olga, who ordinarily would have taken the same keen interest in the preparations, turned wearily away and went to her own room. She dined alone, under the plea of a headache, and did not again appear until the guests began to arrive in the evening.
"You look very beautiful, my dear," Herman said to her when she entered the drawing-room.
Her mood had changed. Her eyes seemed unnaturally bright. She herself could not tell what had caused the change. When she reached home she had looked forward with shuddering aversion to her second meeting with Millar. Now she was impatient for him to arrive. She wanted to talk to him; to hear again the soft, persuasive voice, the insidious harmony of his words that seemed to frame for her the thoughts she had never dared express.
She was bright, alive, witty, charming in the beauty of her fresh color, her glorious hair, her splendid figure set off charmingly in an evening gown of white satin brocade. She stood at the head of the winding stairway leading to the drawing-room when Millar came.
The man seemed more suggestive of malignant purpose in his evening clothes than he had been in the afternoon. Immaculate in every detail of his dress, his very grooming suggested wickedness. He walked slowly up the stairs, feasting his eyes on Olga as she stood with hand extended to meet him.
"Madam, I am charmed to greet you again," he said. "I congratulate you on the wonderful transformation, and I need not ask in what way it was effected."
"It may be that I owe it to you, monsieur," Olga replied gayly, her eyes frankly meeting those of Millar as he looked at her with admiration he did not attempt to disguise.
"I trust we are soon to have the pleasure of seeing Karl again."