Mrs. Monteagle began to be seriously mystified. This sudden interest in M. de Kerbec’s view of the situation did not deceive her. Mr. Kingspring evidently had turned off the conversation from Col. Redacre on purpose. And why? She was not a meddling person or touchy, but really it was enough to set her wondering, this odd behavior of the Redacres. They were distinctly keeping her out of the way while Mr. Kingspring was allowed to come in! And then Mrs. Redacre writing to Mme. Léopold to chaperone the girls to-night! What did it all mean?
Suddenly it flashed on her that they were anxious to bring about a marriage between Pearl and Léon, and had seized on the ball to-night as an opportunity for suggesting the same idea to the Léopolds. On the other hand, this was such a thoroughly un-English way of proceeding that it was hardly fair to suspect the Redacres of adopting it. Pearl, too, was the last girl she knew who would be likely to fall in with such French manœuvring. Altogether it was puzzling. Mrs. Monteagle was angry with Mr. Kingspring, turned her back on him, and began to converse with a French lady near her. People were dropping in in ones and twos, and Mme. de Kerbec was in high delight, sweeping her glittering train behind her as she rose to greet each new-comer. Mrs. Monteagle took advantage of one of these triumphant moments to say good-by, and, without casting a glance on the offending Kingspring, made her exit.
Just as she reached her own porte cochère Mr. Kingspring overtook her.
“Are you going in to see the Redacres?” he said.
“No; Mrs. Redacre sent me word that she hoped I would go to-morrow, which meant evidently that I was not to go to-day.”
“If I were you I would not mind that; I would go at once. You are their oldest friend here; they will be the better for seeing you.”
“There is something amiss, then?” And Mrs. Monteagle forgot her grievance in real concern.
“There is. I can’t tell you any more. They will tell you themselves; you had better go in and see them.”
He shook hands and hurried away, fearing to say more if he loitered with her. Mrs. Monteagle went slowly up to the entresol, and, after an interval of hesitation, she pulled the bell. “The idea of my being nervous at pulling Alice Redacre’s bell!” she said to herself.
It was answered quickly.