‘I am expecting her every moment,’ Isodore replied. ‘She promised me to come to-day and let me have her report.’
They sat in silence for a few moments, when Lucrece entered. She was quietly, almost plainly dressed, and wore an air of extreme meekness.
‘You look the character,’ Isodore said approvingly. ‘You might have been a menial all your lifetime.—I am all impatience. Begin!’
‘In the first place,’ Lucrece began without further preamble, ‘I like my situation; and as to my new mistress, to know her is to love her. You have no idea how gentle and thoughtful she is. Now, to begin with her. The dear Hector has a rival, and a powerful one; his name is Frederick Maxwell, and he is an artist. From what I can see, they are engaged.—Isodore, this Maxwell has joined the League, and will be introduced by Salvarini.’
‘Frederick Maxwell! Carlo’s old friend! Poor fool! Le Gautier has tools enough.’
‘He is a fine handsome Englishman; honour and honesty stamped in every line of his face; just the sort of man to be made useful.—But to continue. Le Gautier is l’ami de la famille. He has a wonderful influence over Sir Geoffrey, and has succeeded in fascinating Enid—and she hates him notwithstanding. Isodore, Le Gautier is at his old spiritualistic tricks again.’
‘Ah!—Tell me something of Sir Geoffrey.’
‘I am coming to that. Last night, my mistress was out very late, not getting home till past one. It has been my habit to wait for her in the back dining-room, and last night I was sitting there in the dark, dozing. I was awakened by the entrance of Sir Geoffrey. I could see his face was ghastly pale, and he kept muttering to himself, and some words at intervals I caught. “I wonder if it was jugglery,” I heard him say—“if it was some trick of Le Gautier’s?—No; it could not be; and yet, if I am to have any peace, I must fulfil the compact—I must join this Brotherhood. And Enid, what will she say, when she knows? What will Maxwell think of me?—But perhaps Le Gautier is already married.” I could not catch any more. What do you think of it?’
Isodore was following the speaker so intently, and so engrossed in her thoughts, that she did not reply for a moment. ‘You can help us here, Valerie. Tell us what you think.’
‘Lucrece is perfectly right,’ Valerie replied. ‘I have hitherto told you that my husband used to dabble in such things; nay, more, as a conjurer he was probably without a rival. He made a great reputation at Rome before the thing exploded; and indeed, to a weak mind, some of the séances were awe-inspiring.’