“Nonsense!” said Mr. Sharrow rudely. “She knew him quite well. He had been, to my knowledge, at least six or seven times to La Solitude. More than once I wanted him to take me up there, but no—he seemed to think that it would be indiscreet—that the Poldas were quiet people who would prefer to entertain one rather than two.”
“But I had only arrived at Monte Carlo on the day he came to dinner there for the last time,” exclaimed Lily. “I did have a few minutes’ talk with him alone, just before we went into the dining-room—but that was all.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Sharrow. “I did not know what you have just told me.”
“He seemed very happy,” she said slowly, “and yes, I must say that he did not seem to me in the least the sort of man to kill himself.”
Her evident sincerity touched the stranger, as did, too, her young, girlish charm of manner.
“I wish you would tell me exactly what did happen on that fatal evening,” he said earnestly. “The whole thing is so mysterious to me! Ponting had promised some friends of ours to dine with them and then to spend the evening at the Club. Unluckily I had an engagement at Nice, or I should have been there too. As it was, they waited on and on for him, but he neither came nor sent a message.”
“That’s very strange,” said Lily, “for I know that his cabman was told to take them a message.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” said M. Popeau drily. “Cabmen are the most untrustworthy of messengers!”
“Oh, so he gave a message to the cabman?” said Mr. Sharrow slowly. “Of course, I didn’t know that. But what made him change his mind, Miss Fairfield? Surely he went up to La Solitude in order to tell the Count and Countess Polda that he couldn’t have the pleasure of dining with them?”
“I expect,” said Lily reluctantly, “that he saw how annoyed they were at his change of plan. They’re old-fashioned people, the sort of people who make rather a fuss about having anyone to a meal, even to tea”—a slight smile quivered over her face, and M. Popeau nodded—“and the Countess was rather disagreeable in her manner, when Mr. Ponting said he could not stay. I think they were really hurt,” she added. “They had got fond of him, and they had set their hearts on his spending his last evening with them; so, suddenly, he made up his mind that he would do so.”