Hetty's uncle was evidently flattered. He liked talking of his own work, for his heart was in it, and he had for audience one of the most brilliant and beautiful women in London. His voice was something high pitched and it carried easily to Hetty's ears. Apparently2, Bruce was gone, for the girl could see nothing of him anywhere. She was only too glad for a chance to sit down quietly and ponder over the disturbing events of the evening. Nobody was likely to be particularly interested in Leona Lalage's governess.
The little man with the keen restless eyes and the pince-nez did not suggest the popular idea of the novelist. He chattered3 on with frank egotism. The world made much of him, and he took it for granted that all the world was interested in his work. And he was talking eagerly to Leona Lalage about the Corner House.
Hetty caught her breath eagerly. That dark and evil place seemed to have suddenly become part and parcel of her life. Instinctively4 she half hid herself behind a great dragon vase full of palms.
"Fact is I used to know the man who lived there," Gilbert Lawrence was saying in his quick staccato way. "And I was once in the house. No, I never met the wife. A depressing, gloomy house, like Tom Hood's haunted mansion5. Just the place to plan a murder in, and never be found out. After the scandal I worked out a novel on the subject."
Leona Lalage's eyes gleamed like points of fire. They seemed to be burnt into her face. Hetty could see the restless play of the 62jeweled hands.
"Did you ever publish it?" she asked, eagerly.
"Never had the chance to write it," Lawrence cried. "But I worked it all out. Wicked woman, revenge, plot to bring hero within the grip of the law. It's pigeonholed6 in my writing desk, and labelled 'The Corner House.' But I don't suppose it will ever be written."
"Worth stealing," a Society journalist lounging by remarked. "I could write a novel, only I can never think of a plot. Your old housekeeper7 is asleep long ago. Where do you carry your latchkey?"
"Ticket pocket of my overcoat," laughed Lawrence. "But you'll be found out, Stead. Being a critic, the public would never take you seriously."
The Countess's eyes flamed again suddenly. Hetty, watching, was utterly8 puzzled. What was there in this trivial conversation that held this woman almost breathless? She had the air of one who has taken a great resolution. She seemed like a man face to face with death, who sees a way out.
A great many of the guests had by this time departed. It was growing very quiet in the streets now, the jingle9 of harness and the impatient pawing of horses had almost ceased. A soldierly-looking man came up to Leona Lalage, and held out his hand.
"But you are not going to Aldershot tonight. Captain Gifford?" Leona asked. "A cab? How extravagant10!"
"Motor car," the stolid11 dragoon replied. "I've got a fifteen horsepower Daimler that I can knock seventy miles an hour out of at a pinch. And no danger of being picked up for scorching12 on a dark night like this."
The Countess put her hand to her throat as if she had found some trouble with her breathing. Those wonderful eyes of hers were gleaming like electric flashes. Her face was white, but her lips were drawn13 narrow with resolution. She rose, and sauntered carelessly to the door.
"I dote on motors," she said. "Nothing pleases me better than to go out in my own alone. I am coming to see your steed, Captain. The rooms are so hot here that I have a great mind to run away with it."
Gifford murmured something about the honour and pleasure. There was no vehicle to be seen in the dark street besides the gleaming mass of brass14 and steel that quietly simmered by the pavement.
"A beauty!" the Countess exclaimed, "And the same action as my own. I believe I know as much about it as my chauffeur15. Captain Gifford, let me try it alone, do. Harris, give me a coat. No, one of the gentlemen's overcoats--that grey one will do. Do let me go round the square alone!"
Gifford consented with outward urbanity. Few men could say no when Leona Lalage asked for a favour. With a man's coat over her gleaming black dress and ivory shoulders she sprang into the car, and the next moment she was flying round the corner. She laughed recklessly as she passed out of sight, a laugh with a ring of insolent16 triumph in it.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes passed, whilst Gifford fidgeted with a half-chewed cigarette in his teeth. Then there was a distant whirr, two flaming eyes and the gleam of brass and steel.
"An adventure!" the Countess cried gaily17. "I have been dodging18 a couple of policemen, or I should have been back before. Beware of the high road. Goodbye, Captain, and if ever you wish to dispose of your Mercedes, give me the first offer."
She passed up the steps with a face white but smiling, a queer lingering smile that boded19 ill to some one.
A few guests of the higher Bohemian type still lingered, but with easy tact20 the hostess contrived21 to get rid of them. Her absence had not been noticed, the little escapade on the motor was not mentioned.
The took of triumph faded from her eyes, she had grown worn and weary. The roses were wilting22 on the walls, the lights were mostly down now. Hetty, looking in to see if anything was wanted, found herself driven away almost fiercely.
"I am tired, weary, worn-out," the Countess cried. "I am sick of it all, sick of the world, and sick to death of myself. Go to bed."
The house was quiet at last, there was a passing cab or two, the heavy tramp of a policeman. Up in the nursery little Mamie was still sleeping, she was flushed and uneasy and murmuring as she slept. The recreant23 nurse lay on her back snoring loudly. Well, Hetty was a light sleeper24, and her room was just opposite the nursery. Nurse would have slept through an earthquake.
Hetty returned to her room, but not to sleep. The vague shadow of some coming trouble lay upon her. She was young and healthy, and she was engaged to one of the best men on earth. And they were going to be married soon. She ought to have been superlatively happy.
Yet she was restless and uneasy. She had never known what it was to be nervous before. There was a dull booming noise somewhere, a knocking that seemed to proceed from the Corner House. Hetty heard something fall with a thud, she could have sworn to a stifled25 cry. A door opened and closed somewhere, there was a strong draught26 as if the basement had been opened. Hetty's heart was beating in some strange, unaccountable way. A little cry brought her to her feet.
But it was only Mamie whimpering and crying for her. The child was awake and sitting up in bed, whilst the nurse still slept. Mamie was hot and feverish27.
"I am so sorry," she said, "but my throat is all parched28 up. Dearest, do please get me some soda-water."
"All right, darling," Hetty whispered. "Lie down and be quiet, and I will see what I can do for you. I shan't be long."
There was everything that Hetty required in the dining-room. She crept softly down the marble staircase in her stockinged feet; down below in the hall a solitary29 point of flame in the electric corona30 made fitful shadows everywhere. There was one light also in the big, dark, dining-room, which was always left there, so that Hetty had no difficulty in finding a syphon of soda-water. She crept out into the hall again and paused.
Cigarette smoke. Smoke of a pungent31 acrid32 kind that might have been smoked in the house, but never beyond the kitchens. And it was fresh, too, for a trailing wreath of it hung heavy on the air. Without a doubt somebody was in the morning room.
Yes, Hetty could hear the chink of a glass, the fizz of something aerated33. Her heart was beating painfully, but she was not afraid. Dimly, in a mirror opposite, she could see a hand reflected. But she could not see the face. The girl deflected34 the mirror slightly, so that the head and shoulders of the intruder were dimly focused upon it.
A cry rose to her lips, but she stifled it. In a sudden, blind, unreasoning fear she fled noiselessly up the stairs. She had seen that man's features. It was the face of the man from the Corner House!
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1
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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6
pigeonholed
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| v.把…搁在分类架上( pigeonhole的过去式和过去分词 )；把…留在记忆中；缓办；把…隔成小格 | |
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7
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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8
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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10
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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13
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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14
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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15
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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16
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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19
boded
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| v.预示，预告，预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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wilting
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| 萎蔫 | |
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recreant
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| n.懦夫；adj.胆怯的 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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25
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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corona
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| n.日冕 | |
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31
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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33
aerated
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| v.使暴露于空气中，使充满气体( aerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
deflected
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| 偏离的 | |
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