The Red House Mystery. Duchess

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      "Late as usual, and all your partners in hysterics!" said a quick voice—a voice a little sharp, perhaps, and decided, but clear as a bell. Agatha, who had just entered the dancing-room with her chaperon, turned quickly round and smiled at Miss Firs-Robinson.

      "I couldn't help it. Aunt Hilda was afraid to come out, and so Mrs. Poynter has kindly brought me."

      "Oh, if it is Mrs. Poynter, thank Heaven you are here at all! Her wild determination to be 'fashionable,' as she calls it, makes her slow in many ways. But here you are, anyway."

      "What a charming gown!" said Agatha, looking at her friend.

      Certainly the gown was not more charming than its wearer. Miss Firs-Robinson was looking her very best to-night—small, fairy-like, refined, in spite of her parentage, which, indeed, was not all it might have been. Her grandfather had been a store boy in America, had got on, and become the head of a store himself.

      Anyway, Miss Firs-Robinson was as delicately formed as though the blood of all the Howards had run through her veins. A little thing—small—vivacious. Her father, the moment he felt himself above the whims of Fortune's vilest efforts, came to England and died.

      That was five years ago. Elfrida, who had been sent home at an early age for educational purposes, and who remembered but slightly her American experiences, had lived all these years with her father's sister, the elder Miss Firs-Robinson. She was a most estimable woman, and full of prejudices.

      Elfrida was as lovely as the dawning day. Her pretty fair hair covered in tiny curls a head as patrician in shape as though its owner had been the daughter of a hundred earls. And in this head to-night some diamond stars were glittering, sparkling gaily as its owner moved and spoke. Her mouth was small, but not too small. And her nose was not Greek. It was pretty and very lovable, for all that. Her eyes were blue, and so easy to read, said the tyro; so difficult, said the expert.

      "If you hadn't come," said Miss Firs-Robinson, "there would have been murder presently. Dr.—"

      Agatha's face changed and whitened; she made an impulsive movement.

      "Dr. Dillwyn has been wandering round aimlessly for the last hour, seeking whom he may devour, I suppose. Certainly he has not been seeking a partner. Now you have come—"

      "Well? Now I have come?" Agatha repeated her words. "How can you be so stupid!" said she.

      "Stupid! Stupid! I like that. Well I have news for you. Who do you think is—"

      "Our dance, I believe," said some one to Elfrida at that moment. It was Elfrida's shadow during the past two months—Lord Ambert. He bowed to Agatha over Miss Firs-Robinson's head.

      "Is it? Yes, of course," said Elfrida, glancing at her card. "But I have just one word to say to Miss Nesbitt." She smiled again at Ambert, very prettily.

      "Do you know who has come to-night to stay with us for a month? Dicky—Dicky Browne. He met auntie and me last season in town. And auntie asked him to run down to us for a bit. He's a nuisance, certainly," shrugging her shoulders. "We all know that, in spite of everything; but I do love Dicky more than any one else, I think."

      "I wish I could believe that," said Agatha, in a low tone. Lord Ambert was standing near, waiting for Elfrida. "Better love him than—"

      "Pouf! What a suggestion! Why should I love any one?" Elfrida's piquant face was now alight with mischief. "Do you think I am such a one as thyself? I tell you, Agatha, that I, for one, have no heart! I can't afford one."

      "I should think you could afford anything," said Agatha. "You could, at all events, afford to marry the man who loved you."

      "And where does he live?" asked Elfrida, laughing.

      "You know," said Agatha slowly, earnestly.

      "You're lovely; you're a perfect delight!" said Miss Firs-Robinson, her amusement now growing more apparent; "but really I don't. I know only that I—want to be—"

      "Happy?" said Agatha, answering.

      "No; a countess," said the pretty little fairy, with a gay grimace. She looked over Agatha's shoulder and beckoned to Lord Ambert, who was still "in waiting," to come to her.

      He came. A middle-sized, well-set-up man of about forty, with a rather supercilious mouth and small eyes. He looked quite a gentleman, however; which a great many earls do not, and, of course, there he scored. He was a poor man for his rank in life, and was desirous of impounding the numerous thousands in which Miss Firs-Robinson lay, as it were, enwrapped. He never forgot his dignity, however, when with her. He gave her quite to understand that she was by birth many degrees below zero, and that he was a star in her firmament.

      In the meantime Elfrida, who had a very acute mind of her own, saw straight through him. In a sense he amused her, and, after all, she knew very well who would be mistress and master after her marriage with him. Not Ambert, anyway. Her money should be securely settled on herself; she was quite decided about that. She was quite decided also about her marriage with him. She had lived some little time in America, as has been said, and had learned the value of our English lords; so she had arranged with herself very early in life never to die until she could have a title carved upon her tombstone. Ambert had come in quite handy. He was the only unmarried earl within a radius of a tremendous number of miles, so, of course, he would have to do. It was a pity he was so old—that he was a little bald—that his expression was so unpleasant. СКАЧАТЬ