Strangely enough, as she put the glass to her eyes, the little French girl found herself all atremble. “Coming events cast their shadows before them.” Scarcely had the glass been focussed upon the mysterious dancer than her hand dropped limply to her lap.
“It cannot be!” she murmured aloud. “But yes! It is she! It can be no other. There is the dark face. Even beneath her make-up one feels it. There is the torn ear. I can’t be wrong. It is the dark lady! It is the spy!”
Twenty seconds later the opera glasses were in their owner’s hands. Jeanne had vanished.
CHAPTER XX
SOMEONE VANISHES
Poor red devil! He surely was in for it!
What a pity that anyone so jolly, so full of the froth and bubble of life, should find any hard spots on his joyous glide through life! Pity or no pity, he was in for it!
He was soft from too much eating, too much drinking and too many good times. There was jazz in his blood, plenty of it. But one cannot defend one’s self with the jittering rhythm of jazz. Hugo, the red devil, went down and came up again. He went down and was soundly beaten by this mysterious intruder. He roared for help, but there was no help near. He had chosen a lonely spot for his promenade. In the end he began whimpering like a baby. Then the intruder left him. And as he left, Hugo fancied he heard him mutter, “You take what you want.” He was, however, too dazed and befuddled to tell truly whether he had heard aright or no.
When Danby Force came to claim Florence for the last dance of the evening, he was surprised to find an unaccustomed wealth of color in her cheeks. He fancied too that she seemed agitated and quite unusually excited. Her breath seemed to come with a little catch.
He said nothing about it and soon they were floating across the floor to the music of the old but ever beautiful waltz, “Over the Waves.”
“Ah,” Florence whispered as, like light row boats on moonlit waters they glided on and on, “how beautiful! Nothing could be more wonderful. I wish it might go on forever.”