“Only by sight. You did, dear, didn’t you?”
“Casually. Meeting him about. As a matter of fact I was to have danced with him at the very time he was found dead.”
“Alix! You never told me that. How awful!”
“It might have been,” the Countess responded composedly. “But I did not see him. It was late; a good many people had gone. He did not come for his dance; then there was a fuss: we were told, at least I was, that Captain Martindale had had a fit, and people went off. I fancy most of the men knew the real state of the case.”
Miss Riverdale gave a little shudder. “Horrible! At a dance, too.”
“Yes. It was upsetting, even to us who did not know the truth. As we were going, a doctor bustled in, shivering in a great-coat buttoned up to hide the fact that he was only half dressed. I have often thought that great-coat in the ball-room brought home the idea of a tragedy more vividly than the sight of the dead man could have done. Ugh! Don’t let’s talk about it any more, or I shall get the blues.”
Her visitor rose. “You look, my dear Alix, as though you had them already. Come across the Park with me. I am going that way home; we are pretty sure to meet some one to enliven us.”
Alexia shook her head. “I was out all the morning and am rather tired. I feel too dull even to ask you to stay.”
Miss Riverdale scarcely needed a hint to see that she had suddenly become de trop. She wondered whether her hostess’s sudden preoccupation was not due to the letter just received; but to wonder was all that was permitted her.
Scarcely had the door closed upon her visitor when Alexia took up the note and read it through again, and this time there was no need for her to hide her disquietude. The words were few.