He had the
deep, caressing touch that lies in fingers of steel worked by a real
passion for tone. Gyp sat on the divan and listened. She was out of his
sight there; and she looked at him, wondering. He was playing Schumann's
Child Music. How could one who produced such fresh idyllic sounds have
sinister intentions? And presently she said:
"Count Rosek!"
"Madame?"
"Will you please tell me why you sent Daphne Wing here yesterday?"
"I send her?"
"Yes."
But instantly she regretted having asked that question. He had swung
round on the music-stool and was looking full at her. His face had
changed.
"Since you ask me, I thought you should know that Gustav is seeing a
good deal of her."
He had given the exact answer she had divined.
"Do you think I mind that?"
A flicker passed over his face. He got up and said quietly:
"I am glad that you do not."
"Why glad?"
She, too, had risen. Though he was little taller than herself, she was
conscious suddenly of how thick and steely he was beneath his dapper
garments, and of a kind of snaky will-power in his face. Her heart beat
faster.
He came toward her and said:
"I am glad you understand that it is over with Gustav--finished--" He
stopped dead, seeing at once that he had gone wrong, and not knowing
quite where. Gyp had simply smiled. A flush coloured his cheeks, and he
said:
"He is a volcano soon extinguished.
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