to pieces so the last few days,
I doubt if I could have faced this alone."
They came to the Casino, and Mary was challenged by one of the
doorkeepers because of her bag. He reminded her politely that no one was
allowed to go in with a parcel of any description. "Ever since a lady
tried to blow us all up with a bomb in a paper package," he added,
smiling.
"I'll leave my bag in the _vestiaire_," Mary promised; and being well
known she was allowed to pass.
The attendant in whose care she indifferently placed the locked
jewel-case had no idea that he guarded valuables worth two thousand
pounds or more. The hand-bag had a modest air of containing a few pretty
trifles for a toilet in a motor car.
Mary's heart had begun to beat fast, for Lord Dauntrey's face was so
pale and rigid that she realized his dread of an ordeal and began to
share it. It was many days since she had entered the Casino. The atrium,
once so familiar, almost dear to her eyes, looked strange. It was odd to
find there the same faces she had often seen before. She felt as if
years had passed since she was one of those who eagerly frequented this
place. What if Vanno could see her now? she thought. He would not like
to have her come to the Casino with Lord Dauntrey, yet if she could make
him understand all, she told herself that he would not be angry. Angelo
might be, and even unforgiving, but not Vanno.
"Where must we go to ask for the _viatique_?" she inquired of Dauntrey
in a low voice, looking anxiously at the different closed doors, behind
which any mystery might hide, for few ever saw them open.
"We have to go through the Salle Schmidt," he answered doggedly.
That seemed worse than she had thought, but she said nothing. She found
herself suddenly missing Hannaford, and wishing that his calm face with
its black bandage might appear among all these faces that meant nothing
to her. If he were here he would stand by them, or perhaps go alone with
Lord Dauntrey in order to spare her. He had always tried to save her
from everything disagreeable, from the very beginning of their
friendship until its end.
The mellow golden light in the great gaming room, and the somnolent
musky scent which she had called the "smell of money," seized upon
Mary's imagination with renewed vividness, even as on the first night
when as a stranger she timidly yet eagerly entered the Casino. She felt
again the powerful influence of the place, but in a different way. T
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