CHAPTER XV
CHECKMATE!
Henry Blaine was allowed scant opportunity for reflection, in the hour which intervened between his telephone message to Anita and the time of his appointment with her. Scarcely had he hung up the receiver once more when his secretary announced the arrival of Fifine Déchaussée.
Had not Blaine been already aware of her success with Paddington, as the scene in the park an evening or two previously denoted, he would have been instantly apprised by her manner that something of vital import had occurred. There was an indefinable change, a subtle metamorphosis, which was conveyed even in her appearance. Her delicate, Madonna-like face had lost its wax-like pallor and was flushed with a faint, exquisite rose; the wooden, slightly vacant expression was gone; she walked with a lissome, conscious grace which he had not before observed, and the slow, enigmatic smile with which she greeted him held much that was significant behind it.
“You did not keep your appointment with me yesterday––why, mademoiselle?” asked Blaine, quietly.
“Because it was impossible, m’sieu,” she returned. “I could not get away. Madame––the wife of M’sieu Franklin––would not allow me to leave the children. This is the first opportunity I have had to come.”
“And what have you to report?” he asked, watching her narrowly.
She shrugged her shoulders.