“But, for goodness’ sake—”
“Whoa, my boy! Don’t rush your fences. I’ll tell you everything, so keep calm. First, the night before last, Strauss comes to me—”
“One moment,” broke in David. “Is this Strauss?” and he handed her the portrait.
She looked at it and laughed. “Why, of course it is!” she said. “Fancy you keeping his picture over your heart! Now, if it had been Violet, or me—”
“Sorry to have interrupted you,” he said.
“Funny idea! Anyhow, Strauss turned up the night before last and wanted to borrow Jenny for the whole of next day. It was beastly awkward, as she was helping me to re-hem this dress and put new sleeves in the bodice; but he badgered me so that I could hardly refuse,” and she thought for an instant of certain notes crumpled up in the gold purse which was slung from her neck; “so I packed Jenny off about eight o’clock next morning—yesterday, that is. I was in a temper all day, and tore two flounces out of my frock, and scraped my shin on the step of a hansom; so when the minx came smirking home about midnight, to find me making my own fire, I let her have it, I can tell you. But it fairly gave me the needle when she wouldn’t say what Strauss wanted her for, and then the row sprang up. Guess you want to smoke, eh? I would like a cigarette myself.”
David was most docile outwardly when all of a boil within. He awaited her pleasure, saw her seated in a comfortable chair, joined in her own admiration of a pair of really pretty feet, and lit a pipe. Then she continued:
“There was poisonous trouble for about five minutes. I might have let her off if she hadn’t said things. Then I frightened her. I believe I did yank her hat off. At last, she confessed that Strauss told her that his name now was Van Hupfeldt, and he wanted her to go down to Rigsworth to be introduced to two ladies as Sarah Gissing, Gwen Barnes’s maid.”
“What?” yelled David, springing to his feet.