“Those gentlemen,” she murmured, having noticed Bexley look over to them and bow—“you know them?”
“Yes. The one is Mr. Haviland, the giver of this concert.”
“And the other?”
“The other is Herbert Karne.”
“Ah!” The exclamation was short and sharp. Bexley was not sure whether it implied surprise or relief.
“I dare say you have seen his ‘Farewell to the World’ at the Academy?” he inquired. “It is a beautiful picture.”
“No,” she replied nervously. “I have not been to the Royal Academy this season. I have only just returned to town.”
She toyed absently with her long neck-chain, from which were suspended, in cheerful incongruity, a small ebony and silver crucifix, a tiny ivory death’s-head with diamonds set in the eye-holes, a miniature horse-shoe, and a diminutive champagne-bottle designed in solid gold. Bexley wondered why she wore them; they were certainly not pretty, and, as charms, he considered them out of place.
“Mr. Karne is the half-brother of Miss Celia Franks,” he informed her. “Did you hear Miss Franks sing in Paris? She made her début there.”
“Yes, I heard her sing. She sang very well. I had no idea, though, that she was Herbert Karne’s half-sister. I was not aware that he had a half-sister.”