“Oh, Monsieur le Comte, the young man stayed but a moment——”
“Where were they? In her bedroom?”
“In the salon. I—I served a pâté—a glass of wine—and the young gentleman was gone the next minute——”
A dull red discoloured the neck and features of the Count.
“That’s enough,” he said; and waddled past her along the corridor to the furthest door; and wrenched it open with one powerful jerk.
In the still, golden gloom of the drawn curtains, now striped with sunlight, a young girl suddenly sat up in bed.
“Alexandre!” she exclaimed in angry astonishment.
“You slut!” he said, already enraged again at the mere sight of her. “Where did you go last night!”
“What are you doing in my bedroom?” she demanded, confused but flushed with anger. “Leave it! Do you hear!—” She caught sight of the pistol in his hand and stiffened.
He stepped nearer; her dark, dilated gaze remained fixed on the pistol.