He waited for a while before answering her, and then he said very quietly:
“There is curiously little to tell, darling. The one outstanding thing I remember is how surprised and annoyed I was that you did not appear. The Countess Polda is a wonderful actress——”
Lily shuddered. “She is indeed,” she whispered.
“I remember that when she came out to meet me, as I walked up to the terrace by the usual way cross the lawn, she explained that you were not quite so well, and that she had persuaded you to remain in bed until after dinner. Looking back, I suppose she intended me to say—‘I hope Miss Fairfield won’t come down at all.’” He waited for a moment, then went on: “But, Lily, I was selfish, and I wanted desperately to see you! I had a queer kind of apprehensive feeling about you. Popeau had said something which had made me feel vaguely anxious, and I didn’t believe it would do you any harm to come down for a few minutes—so I simply answered that I was glad you would come down after dinner.”
“What happened then?” asked Lily.
“Nothing particular happened, that I can recall. They were both very civil, in a formal, affected way, and I was astonished at the splendid spread to which we ultimately sat down. Still, there was a certain amount of delay, and as I look back I cannot help suspecting that their old servant——”
He saw a curious expression pass over Lily’s face, but he had no clue to what lay behind, so after a moment he went on:
“What was I saying? Oh yes—I cannot help thinking that the old servant wanted to convey some kind of warning to me. Twice, when she was standing in the only place where neither the Count nor the Countess could see her face, she stared at me in the most peculiar fashion, as if trying to attract my attention; and then after we had some hot soup—the rest of the meal was cold—she dropped a lovely but very small decanter on to the floor, and it broke into three or four pieces. It had had in it some liqueur the Count wanted me to taste, and I wondered to-day—for to-day is the first time I have really thought the whole thing over—whether that liqueur was drugged? Though the Count and Countess took the breaking of the decanter very well, and really made no fuss about it, I could see that they were extremely angry with the poor old soul. In fact, the Countess told her that henceforth we would wait on ourselves, and that she need not come back into the room.”
Again he stopped speaking for a few moments. Then he began again: “The Count went out of the dining-room for some more of this special liqueur, and he brought back some of it already poured out in two rather big wineglasses. I confess I thought it was quite delicious, and made, I should judge, of very old brandy.”
“And what happened after you had finished dinner?” asked Lily in an almost inaudible voice.