“Everyone loves Aunt Yvonett,” answered Marjorie warmly. “I wish my fairy godmother had bequeathed me her power of fascination.” Duncan made no reply, and Marjorie ran up the short flight of steps of the Fordyce home, and laid an impatient finger on the electric bell.
“I have my key,” remonstrated Duncan, pulling it out and opening the front door. “I hope our long walk hasn’t tired you,” as she stepped past him into the house.
“Not a bit,” pausing in the hall while he divested himself of his overcoat. “I feel as fresh as a daisy.”
Duncan inspected her carefully, from her well-shod feet to her imperiously carried head, and he was conscious of an accelerated pulse as he caught the full witchery of her lovely eyes. He stepped swiftly to her side, a longing to touch her, to hold her in his arms overmastered him.
“I wonder where Janet can be,” she said, the coquetry dropping from her, as her anxieties returned. “Do ask Perkins if she is in the house.”
Duncan drew back. “Janet? Do you think of no one but Janet?” and without waiting for an answer he walked down the hall, but before he left her, Marjorie had seen in Duncan’s eyes the message which every daughter of Eve translates by instinct. With strangely fluttering heart she sought her room and in that safe haven paused for breath. Day-dreams were not for her; she was only his mother’s paid employee, and ... one man had not scrupled to lie to her....
Over in Georgetown, Barnard, in immaculate evening dress, opera hat and overcoat, paused to light another cigarette. “So Aunt Margaret never regained consciousness,” he said aloud. “What a relief!”
CHAPTER XII
A TANGLED WEB
Earlier that same afternoon Janet had started for Madame Yvonett’s residence intending to join Marjorie there, but as she crossed Dupont Circle into Massachusetts Avenue, an automobile drew up alongside the curb, and a cheery voice hailed her.
“This is luck,” exclaimed Tom Nichols, springing out of his roadster, and clasping her hand warmly. “Where are you going Miss Janet?”