CHAPTER IX
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MADAME VATROTSKI
I firmly believe the contessa had succeeded in fluttering the professor's heart, and I think it was fortunate that he was soon engaged upon another case. The fact that it was also connected with theatrical people may have made him go into it with more zest. The contessa had given him a taste for the theater.
The three of us were in the empty room, and after a lot of talk which had led nowhere, had been silent for some time.
"I never believe in any one's death until I have seen the body, or until some one I can thoroughly trust has seen it," said Quarles, suddenly breaking the silence.
"You have said something like that before," I answered.
"It still remains true, Wigan."
"Then you think she is alive?" Is it the advertisement theory you cling to, or do you suppose she is a Nihilist?"
"I suppose nothing, and I never cling; all I know is that I have no proof of death," said the professor, and he launched into a discourse concerning the difficulties of concealing a body, chiefly, I thought, to hide the fact that he had no ideas at all about the strange case of Madame Vatrotski.
The rage for the tango, the sensational revue, for the Russian ballet, was at its height when Madame Vatrotski's name first appeared on the hoardings in foot-long letters.