John Manners was not the messenger bringing the pearls. Even if he had been asked to bring them, he would not have accepted the responsibility of escorting Claremanagh\'s "ewe lamb" across the Atlantic. He knew more about those pearls than he wanted to know, for he had been in love with Juliet Phayre before he began to like Claremanagh—to like him in spite of himself, in spite of natural jealousy, and in spite of prejudice. It was a mere coincidence that he should be on the same ship with Monsieur Mayen\'s messenger, for with the return of Mayen from Russia, Manners\' friendly services for the Duke came to an end.
His services for France were ended also; and he was keenly interested in his own emotions as he touched the bell on the front door of the Phayre house. How would it feel to meet Juliet married—and married to a man with whom fate had queerly forced him into friendship?
The front door was a very elaborate door. It was mostly composed of old wrought iron so delicately carved as to be like iron lacework. Silas Phayre had imported it from an ancient palazzo in Florence and, characteristically, had it backed with modern plate glass. The inner side of this crystal screen was curtained with creamy silk tissue, thus forming a sort of mirror for any one waiting to enter. Manners gazed vaguely at his reflection behind the pattern of wrought iron, and his sense of humour noted that thwarted love had not made of him a haggard wreck. Fighting in France had browned and hardened him. He was lean, but far from frail. The dark tan on his face caused his yellowish hair to seem straw-coloured in contrast, and his eyes boyishly blue. This, and the khaki uniform he still wore, gave him an air of being younger than he was—twenty-eight: and the man and his image were exchanging an amused grin when a new reflection appeared in the glass. Mechanically Manners turned, and found himself face to face with a woman. She had paused at the foot of the marble steps, and hesitated, as if the sight of someone on the threshold had upset her calculations. But at this instant the door was thrown open—not by one of the imported English footmen whom Manners knew of old, but by an elderly Japanese. The yellow face gave Jack a shock, but he realized that British and American youths had been better employed than as footmen since he himself had gone to France.
The Japanese looked past the officer in khaki to the lady, whom he appeared to recognize and even to be expecting. This look settled matters for her. She decided to keep to her original plan. With a slight inclination of the head to Manners, she stepped briskly into the vestibule. Behind her, she left a faint trail of alluring fragrance. Even Jack Manners, who disliked artificial perfumes, breathed it in with pleasure. He had never smelled anything quite like it before; but he thought of an eastern garden in moonlight, and the thrill of that picture mingled with another thrill. He had recognized the woman. He had seen her before, but only on the stage, and now she was veiled with one of those patterned veils almost as concealing for an ordinary woman as a mask. But this was not an ordinary woman. It was Pavoya, the Polish dancer; the "divine Pavoya," the "diabolic Pavoya," according to the point of view. Even lacking the green glint of slanted eyes, the fiery glow of close-banded hair through the veil, that figure in the plain black dress would have been unmistakable. Portrait painters, photographers, post-impressionists, and caricaturists had rendered it familiar, in all lands, to those who had not seen the dancer herself. Manners could hardly believe in the truth of his swift impression. It was almost incredible that she should come as a guest to this house. Could she have made friends with Juliet? Juliet\'s cousin wondered.
The thing that happened next was still more strange. The slim siren in black did not wait to be ushered in by the servant. She flitted from vestibule to hall beyond, then vanished as if she knew where to go and was in haste to get there. The Japanese did not turn his head to look after her, but gave his attention to the man on the doorstep.
"I\'m Captain Manners," said Jack. "I\'ve come to see my cousin, the Duchess. I suppose she is at home?" He supposed this, not only because Juliet knew that he was due on the Britannia, and had cabled her desire to see him at once, but also because Mademoiselle Pavoya must have gone in by appointment. Even before the servant answered, however, he read in the troubled dark face that something had gone wrong.
"Please to walk in, sir," said the Japanese, in stiff, correct English. "I have a note for you from Her Grace the Duchess. She was unfortunately obliged to go out; but I think she hopes to be back early. If you will kindly walk into the Persian room, sir, I will give you the letter."
Well did Jack remember the Persian room! It had been Silas Phayre\'s great fad and favourite, and during his life had been used as a smoking room. Jack half expected to find Lyda Pavoya there, perhaps reading another note from Juliet; but the wonderful room, with its rare tiles and priceless rugs and exquisite old tapestries, was unoccupied. The servant placed an envelope on an antique tray of Persian enamel, and presented it with a bow. Then he went out unobtrusively, leaving Manners to study with some interest the seal Juliet had used.
It seemed superfluous that she should use any at all, as the scrawled address showed that the writer had been in haste; but the interesting thing was the seal itself. It was Claremanagh\'s own seal, which he kept for his private correspondence, and the ring with which he made it had been given by the Tsarina of the Pearls to his great-great-grandfather. Jack happened to know this, because the Duke had ordered a copy made for Louis Mayen, with which to seal the box containing the pledged pearls. Claremanagh had told Jack this story before leaving France, and had pointed out the ring, which he invariably wore. The design was an eye; and the motto underneath was, "Je te regard."
"Must have given the ring to Juliet," Manners thought, as he opened the envelope. He read:
DEAR OLD BOY:
Don\'t think me a beast to be out. I really couldn\'t help it. I was dragged into accepting for a tiresome lunch party, given by a tiresome female, in my honour: Emmy West\'s sister-in-law. Some story has been started that I was jealous of Emmy (among other women!) with Pat. Nonsense! But I knew, if I refused, what the creatures would say. Besides, I couldn\'t be sure just when you\'d turn up. And above all, I wanted a chance to see you quite, quite alone. I\'ve got lots of things to tell you, that I couldn\'t tell any one else. If you call while I\'m away, as I expect, stop and see Pat, who is to lunch at home, as he\'s got a bad cold. Then say you must go, as you have an engagement. That will be true, because I now invite you to make an engagement with me. But if he insists on your visiting us, before you go home to Long Island, as he\'s sure to, do accept. You were horrid to answer my cable with a refusal, and say you had to go at once to your own place to decide on some silly old improvements you want to make. That\'s only an excuse, Jack, because you didn\'t quite see yourself staying in the house with Pat and me. But you are much too strong a man to mind a little thing like that. I don\'t believe you were ever in love with me, really. You just thought you were, that\'s all, from knowing me when I was a wee kid, and always being my bestest pal whom I could count on without fail.
Oh, Jack, I do count on you now, as I never did before. So you won\'t fail me for the first time in your life, will you? I suppose this is selfish of me, and "exactly like a woman" (as Uncle Henry used to say, whenever I wanted to do anything he didn\'t want me to do), but I can\'t help it. You\'ll see, when I tell you, why nobody else can be of any use to me in this trouble.
I have to write all this, though I hope to meet you so soon; because if I didn\'t, you might refuse Pat\'s most pressing invitation. And where should I be then? Don\'t think for an instant that I\'m tired of Pat, and want a divorce or anything. It isn\'t that at all. I adore him as much as ever. That\'s where the trouble comes in! But we\'ve had a row, and every day it will get worse. Why, even the seal ring, which I\'m using for this letter, has become a bone of contention—among other things. This does need a seal, if ever a letter did, for it\'s dreadfully indiscreet and unwifely, I suppose.
Already I\'ve eased my mind a little by pouring out my woes to you, as in old times. And now for that engagement with me, which I trust you to keep. I am supposed to go to an "At Home," which I\'m not sure isn\'t given for me. All I am sure about is that I shan\'t be there. Instead, I\'ll be in the Palm Room of the Hotel Lorne (where no one we know ever goes for tea) at five o\'clock. And I shall wait for you, so you\'ll have to come. Afterward, if you haven\'t done it before, you can see to sending all your things to our house for a visit of at least a week. But we\'ll talk of that!
Ever your affectionate cousin,
JEWEL.
P. S. You see, I haven\'t forgotten your old name for me. No one except you ever called me his "Jewel."
When Manners had read this letter through, he sat with it for some moments in his hand. Then, suddenly, he roused himself to realize that it was not a document to flaunt in the open. He replaced it in the envelope, which he slipped into an inner pocket of his khaki coat. Had the Japanese told Claremanagh of his arrival, he wondered? Or had there been some secret understanding between the Duchess and her servant that Captain Manners should be left long enough in the Persian room to read and put out of sight her sealed letter? Claremanagh had his own confidential man, Nickson (known as "Old Nick"); why should not Juliet have hers? There was no reason. Yet Jack hated to think that the girl should be driven to a rather sordid expedient, and somehow this thought dragged into his head another.
"By George!" he exploded aloud. Then he bit his lip. But the thought could not be pushed away. Since Juliet was out, to whom was the visit of Lyda Pavoya being made?
The Japanese seemed to be in the confidence of more than one person in this house!