That was a breeze which rustled through Hotel Helicon. Everybody was supremely indignant; but there was no clue to the traitor who had thus betrayed everybody’s secrets. It would be absurd to suppose that Miss Crabb was not suspected at once, on account of her constant and superfluous show of note-making, still there were others who might be guilty. Crane and Peck were indignant, the former especially ready to resent to the death any allusion to the details of the duel. Miss Moyne with the quick insight of a clever and gifted young woman, comprehended the situation in its general terms and was vexed as much as amused. The whole thing had to her mind the appearance of a melodramatic, broadly sensational sketch, in which she had played the part of the innocent, unconscious, but all-powerful heroine. Indeed the newspaper account placed her in this unpleasant attitude before a million readers.
“A lucky affair for you, Miss Moyne,” said Dufour to her, a few days later, “you cannot over-reckon the boom it will give to your latest book. You may expect a pretty round sum with your next copyright statement.”
He spoke with the voice and air of one who knew how to read the signs of the day.
“But the ridiculous idea of having all this stuff about me going the rounds of the newspapers!” she responded, her beautiful patrician face showing just a hint of color.
“Don’t care for it a moment,” said Dufour, “it will not hurt you.”
“The thought of having that hideous picture in all the patent inside pages of the cheap press, with my name under it, en toutes lettres, and—why it is horrible!” she went on, with trembling lips.
Dufour smiled upon her, as if indulgently, a curious, tender gleam in his eyes.
“Wait,” he said, “and don’t allow it to trouble you. The world discriminates pretty well, after all. It will not hurt you. It’s a mighty boom for you.”
She looked at him with a sudden flash in her cheeks and eyes, and exclaimed almost vehemently: “I will not permit it! They shall not do it. I cannot bear to be treated as if—as if I were a theatrical person—a variety actress!”
“My dear Miss Moyne,” he hurriedly said, his own face showing a tinge of embarrassment, “you are taking a wrong point of view, indeed you are. Wait till you see the out-come.” His tone was humble and apologetic as he continued—“My opinion is that this very thing will quadruple the sales of your book.”