I was wrong. A week later the countess left cards for my guests, and an invitation to dine followed. If Merton hesitated, Mrs. Merton did not, and expecting to find a large official dinner, we agreed among us that the count had been really generous and that we must all accept. In fact, if Mrs. Merton might be embarrassed by meeting in his own house the man she had so seriously injured, Merton and I were at ease, seeing that we were entirely unknown to the count as having been receivers of the property which so mysteriously disappeared.
We were met by the count and Madame le Moyne with the utmost cordiality. To my surprise, there were no other guests. All of those thus brought together may have felt just enough the awkwardness of the occasion to make them quick to aid one another in dispersing the slight feeling of aloofness natural to a situation unmatched in my social experience.
The two women were delightful, the menu admirable, the wines past praise. It was an artful and agreeable lever du rideau, and I knew it for that when, at a word from the count, the servants left us at the close of the meal. Then, smiling, he turned to Mrs. Merton and said:
“Perhaps, madame, you may have understood that in asking you all here and alone I had more than the ordinary pleasant reasons. If in the least degree you object to my saying more, we will consider that I have said nothing, and,” he added gaily, “we shall then chat of Rachel and the June exhibition of tulips.”
It was neatly done, and Mrs. Merton at once replied: “I wish to say for myself that I have for years desired to talk freely with you of what is no doubt in your mind just now.”
“Thank you,” he returned; “and if no one else objects,”—and no one did,—“I may say that, apart from my own eager desire to ask you certain questions, my wife has had, for years, what I may call chronic curiosity.”
“Oh, at times acute!” cried the countess.
“Her curiosity is, as you must know, in regard to certain matters connected with that mysterious diplomatic affair in the autumn of 1862. It cost me pretty dear.”
“And me,” said the countess, “many tears.”