paratory to
departure, she flashed another of her sudden remarks at Quarrington.

"I understand you came to my god-daughter's rescue in that bad fog last
week?"

The quiet grey eyes revealed nothing.

"I was privileged to be some little use," he replied lightly.

"I hardly gathered you regarded it as a privilege," observed her
ladyship drily.

The shaft went home. A fleeting light gleamed for a moment in the grey
eyes. Davilof was standing a few paces away, being helped into his coat
by a man-servant, and Quarrington spoke low and quickly.

"She told you?" he said. There was astonishment--resentment, almost--in
his voice.

"No, no." Lady Arabella, smiling to herself, reassured him hastily. "It
was a shot in the dark on my part. Magda never confides details. She
hands you out an unadorned slice of fact and leaves you to interpret it
as you choose. But if you know her rather well--as I do--and can add two
and two together and make five or any unlikely number of them, why, then
you can fill in some of the blanks for yourself."

She glanced at him with impish amusement as she moved towards the door.

"Come along, Davilof," she said. "I suppose you want to hear your own
music--even if Magda's dancing no longer interests you?"

Davilof gave her his arm down the steps.

"What do you mean, miladi?" he asked. "There is no more beautiful
dancing in the world."

"Then why have you jacked up your job of accompanist? Shoes beginning to
pinch a little, eh?"--shrewdly.

"You mean I grow too big for my boots? No, madame. If I were the
greatest musician in Europe, instead of being merely Antoine Davilof,
it could only be a source of pride to be asked to accompany the
Wielitzska."

Lady Arabella paused on the pavement, her foot on the step of the
limousine.

"Then how is it that Mrs. Grey accompanies her now? She was playing for
her at the Duchess of Lichbrooke's the other evening.

"Magda didn't tell you, then?"

"No, she didn't; or I'd not be wasting my breath in asking you. I asked
her, and she said you had taken to playing wrong notes."

A faint smile curved the lips above the small golden beard.

"Then it must be true. Undoubtedly I played wrong notes, miladi."

"Very careless of you, I'm sure." Under the garish light of a
neighbouring street-lamp her keen old eyes met his significantly.
"Or--very imprudent, Davilof. You need the tact of the whole Diplomatic
Service to deal with Magda. And you ought to know