c had seen her in the dim hour before
dawn. Again the rows of bracelets were weighting her slim arms. And
she wore the Medici boots, the amethyst tips peeping beneath her
shining dress.

John, ever ready for gay clowning, arose and bowed low. "Hail,
Empress! A-ah, the dress you got in Florence on our honeymoon, isn't
it? And those darned Medici boots!"

Suzanne unsmilingly extended her hand for him to kiss.

John arched an eyebrow, comically. "What's the matter, honey? Going
regal on me?" And retaining her hand, he kissed each of her fingers.

Suzanne snatched away her hand, and the glance she gave her husband
was one of venomous hauteur. To Eric she turned a look that was an
open caress, leaning toward him, putting a hand on his arm, as he
stood beside his chair, stern-lipped, with eyes that would not look at
John's hurt bewilderment.

The three sat down then, in the low wicker chairs, and waited for
dinner--three people with oddly different emotions. John was hurt,
slightly impatient with his bride; Eric was furious with Suzanne,
though there was in his heart the almost certain knowledge that the
Suzanne beside them on the terrace was not the Suzanne they knew, but
a cruelly strange woman, the product of a sinister force, unknown and
compelling.

No one, looking on Suzanne's red-lipped and heavy-lidded beauty, could
miss the knowledge that here was a woman dangerously subtle, carrying
a power more devastating than the darting lightning that now and then
showed itself over the tree-tops of the garden. Eric began to feel
something of this, and there shaped in his mind a wariness, a defense
against this woman who was not Suzanne.

"No _al fresco_ dining tonight," said John, as the darkening sky was
veined by a sudden spray of blue-green light. "Rain on the way. Pretty
good storm, I'd say."

"I like it," replied Suzanne, drawing in a deep breath of the sultry
air.

John laughed. "Since when, sweet-heart? You usually shake and shiver
through a thunderstorm."

Suzanne ignored him. She smiled at Eric and said in a low tone, "And
if I should lose my bravery, you would take care of me, wouldn't you,
Eric?"

Before Eric could reply, dinner was announced, and he felt a relief
and also a dread. This dinner was going to be difficult.

John offered his arm to his wife, smiling at her, hoping for a smile
in return, but Suzanne shrugged and said in a caressing voice, "Eric?"

* * * * *