Patricia glanced at her with curiosity.
“You are making a great mystery of it,” she remarked. “Whom does it concern?”
Lady Chesterwood’s fingers pressed the keys once more. There was a peculiar expression on her face, and a new gleam seemed to come into her eyes. She was a pretty woman, and possessed the indefinable charm which generally associates itself with young widows. She turned round slowly on the music-stool, and faced Patricia with a glance which almost betrayed a touch of defiance.
“The secret concerns myself and a man,” she replied slowly. “A great man.”
CHAPTER VIII
LADY CHESTERWOOD’S SECRET
Patricia’s interest deepened. “A great man?” she repeated. “In what way is he great?”
The Countess rose with an air of mystery, and closed the door, which had been left ajar. Then she established herself comfortably in one of the beautifully carved chairs, and assumed a look of importance.
“First of all, dear,” she said impressively, “you must promise absolute secrecy. I must have your word of honour that you won’t tell a living soul, not even Lionel Montella.”
“I will readily promise not to tell any of my friends,” Patricia answered, “but I have no secrets from Lionel. Is this necessary?”
“Absolutely. I would not have Montella know for worlds. Perhaps I am foolish in telling you, Pat, but I know I can trust you if you promise.”