<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER XVI</h2>
<p class="pch">PURPLE—AND FINE LINEN</p>
<p class="drop-cap04">THAT Lucinda had once got the better of
Nina had been the thing about her which
most stirred Godfrey’s curiosity; that Lucinda
now laughed at Nina evidently aroused in him
an almost incredulous wonder. Perhaps it was calculated
to surprise any one; to a Frost it must have
seemed portentous; for Frosts, father, daughter,
and nephew, judged by what you did and, consequently,
had, not by what you were. Judged by their
standards, Lucinda’s laughter was ridiculous, but in
Godfrey’s fascinated eyes also sublime: such a sublime
audacity as only a supremely attractive woman
dare and can carry. The needlewoman, the <i>midinette</i>,
the showcase girl, laughing at Lady Dundrannan!
But there it was. I think that it shook to
its foundations something that was very deeply set
in Godfrey Frost.</p>
<p>“Well, I suppose Lucinda knew that you were
seeing her on the sly,” I suggested.</p>
<p>He flushed a little. “I don’t particularly like that
way of putting it. I’m not responsible to Nina for
my actions.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>I shrugged my shoulders. He lit another cigarette,
and suddenly resumed his story.</p>
<p>“Well, this is what happened. Arsenio didn’t
come back; I suppose he won a bit, or kept his head
above water somehow. I stayed in Nice, seeing a lot
of Lucinda, for about another week. I used to go
up to that hotel for lunch or tea, and put in the
time somehow till she knocked off work. Then we
had our walk; once or twice she dined with me, but
she was rather difficult about that. She always
kept just the same as she was at the beginning,
except that, as I say, she liked to hear about Nina,
and seemed a lot amused at what I told her—Nina’s
sort of managing ways, and—and dignity, and so
on. By the way, she asked about you too sometimes;
what you’d been doing since she last heard
from you, and so on. Apparently you used to write
to her?”</p>
<p>“Just occasionally—when I was on my travels.
I hope she spoke kindly of me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, that was all right,” he assured me carelessly.
“Well, then came her weekly afternoon off;
it was on a Friday she had it; she got off at half-past twelve.
I had managed to persuade her to
lunch with me, and I went up to the hotel to fetch
her. I was a bit early, and I walked up and down
just outside the hotel gardens, waiting for her. Nobody
was further from my thoughts at that moment
than Nina, but just at a quarter past twelve—I’d
looked at my watch the moment before—I saw<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</SPAN></span>
a big car come up the road. I recognized it directly.
It was Nina’s.”</p>
<p>“Rather odd! How did she find out that——?”</p>
<p>“This is what must have happened, so far as I’ve
been able to piece it together. Those two women—Mrs.
Forrester, you know, and Eunice Unthank—went
back to Villa San Carlo with their three hundred
francs’ worth of stuff, and told Nina about
Mademoiselle Lucie; described her, I suppose, as
something out of the common; they naturally
would, finding a girl of her appearance, obviously
English, and a lady, doing that job. Nina’s as
sharp as a needle, and it’s quite possible that the
description by itself was enough to put her on
the scent; though, for my own part, I’ve always had
my doubts whether she didn’t know more about the
Valdez’s than she chose to admit; something in her
manner when I brought the conversation round to
them—and I did sometimes—always gave me that
impression. Anyhow, there she was, and Eunice
Unthank with her.”</p>
<p>“That must have been a week—or nearly—since
she’d heard about Mademoiselle Lucie from the
two women. Had you heard anything from her
in the interval?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’d had two letters from her, addressed
to our works and forwarded on—I had to leave an
address at the works—saying they missed me at
the Villa and asking when I expected to be back;
but I hadn’t answered them. I didn’t exactly know<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</SPAN></span>
what to say, you see, so I said nothing. As a matter
of fact, I felt bored at the idea of going back;
but I couldn’t have said that, could I?”</p>
<p>“Certainly not. And so—at last—she had to
come?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean by ‘at last’? And why had
she to come?”</p>
<p>There was in my mind a vivid imagining of what
that week had been to Lady Dundrannan; a week of
irresolution and indecision, of pride struggling
against her old jealousy, her old memory of defeat
and shame. To seem to take any interest in the
woman was beneath her; yet her interest in the
woman was intense. And if an encounter could
seem quite accidental——? Why shouldn’t it? Just
the two women’s report—no hasty appearance after
it—quite a natural thing to motor over to Cimiez
for lunch! And, given that the encounter was quite
accidental, it admitted no interest; it would satisfy
curiosity; she had the power of turning it into a
triumph. And Godfrey—her <i>protégé</i>, her property—had
been missing a week and had left two letters
unanswered. My own talk with her—just before
I came away—returned to my mind.</p>
<p>“I suppose that Lady Eunice—or Mrs. Forrester—kept
on worrying her. Was that it?” My attempt
to explain away the form of my question was
not very convincing. Godfrey disposed of it unceremoniously.</p>
<p>“If you were really such a damned fool as you’re<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</SPAN></span>
trying to appear, I shouldn’t be here talking to you,”
he remarked. “There was more in it than that of
course.”</p>
<p>“Well, tell me what happened. We can discuss
it afterwards,” I suggested.</p>
<p>“Just what happened? All right—and soon told.
Nina saw me walking up and down, smoking. She
smiled what they call brightly; so did Lady Eunice.
One or other of them pulled the string, I suppose;
the car stopped; the chauffeur lay back in his seat
in the resigned sort of way those chaps have when
they’re stopped for some silly reason or other—most
reasons do seem to appear silly to them, don’t
they? Really superior chauffeurs, I mean, such as
Nina’s bound to have. I took off my hat and went
up to the car. ‘Why, it’s Mr. Frost!’ said Eunice,
just as surprised as you’d have expected her to be.”</p>
<p>“I certainly acquit Lady Eunice of malice aforethought,”
said I.</p>
<p>“‘And who’d have thought of meeting him
here?’ said Nina. You know that smile of hers?”</p>
<p>“Have I found thee, O my enemy?”</p>
<p>“Exactly. I must say that you do know a thing
or two about Nina. ‘I thought you were in Nice
all the time!’ she went on—oh, quite pleasantly.
‘We’ll take him in to lunch and make him give
an account of himself, won’t we, Eunice? He’s
deserted us disgracefully!’ You never saw anybody
more amiable. And Lady Eunice was awfully cordial
too—‘Oh, yes, you must lunch with us, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</SPAN></span>
Frost, and tell us what you’ve been doing. We’ve
been very dull, haven’t we, Lady Dundrannan?’
The thing seemed going so well”—here Godfrey
gave one of the reflective smiles which witnessed
to the humor that lay in him, though it was deeply
hidden under other and more serviceable qualities—“that
the chauffeur, after a yawn, got down from
his seat and opened the door of the car for me to
get in. And I was just going to get in—hypnotized
or something, I suppose—when down the drive from
the hotel came Donna Lucinda. She came along with
that free swinging walk of hers, as independent and
unconcerned as you please, in her neat, plain, black
frock, and carrying one of those big, round, shiny
black boxes that you see the <i>midinettes</i> with. Only
her stockings looked a shade smarter than most of
them run to. Of course she didn’t know the car by
sight as I did—some people think that yellow too
showy, but I like it myself, provided you’ve got a
good car to show it off on—and I suppose I was
hidden, or half hidden by it. At any rate, she came
sailing down the hotel drive all serene. And I don’t
think I’ve ever seen her looking more splendid in
all my life!”</p>
<p>“You’d known her for just about a week.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, damn it, in all the week that I had
known her. I do wish you wouldn’t interrupt me,
Julius!”</p>
<p>“I don’t interrupt you half as much as you interrupt
yourself. I want to know what happened.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</SPAN></span>
What’s the good of gassing about the chauffeur and
the color of the car?”</p>
<p>“Well, to me that’s all part of the picture—I
suppose I can’t make it for you. The big yellow
car—a three thousand wouldn’t nearly cover it nowadays,
you know—and Jefferson, a tall, slim chap,
dark; been a company sergeant-major—oh, damned
genteel!—Lady Eunice quite out of the situation—as
she would be—but—what do you call it?—a
little patrician all over—and Nina—at her most
stately! Over against all that—and it was rather
overpowering; I can tell you I felt it—the <i>midinette</i>
with her box walking down the drive. That girl—she
didn’t look more than a girl, I swear, though
I suppose she’s five-and-twenty——”</p>
<p>“And who were you going to lunch with?” I interrupted
again. I could not help it. I think that
I laughed, shortly and rather harshly. A ridiculous
little <i>impasse</i> it seemed for him. He had told his
story clumsily, but somehow he had brought the
scene before my eyes. Memory helped me, I imagine;
it put more into the figure swinging down
the drive, more into her stately ladyship seated in
that challenging, possibly too showy, yellow car.
“Which of them did you lunch with?” I laughed
on the question, but I was rather excited.</p>
<p>He had stopped smoking; he sat in a rather odd
attitude—upright, with his legs so close together
that they left only just room for him to thrust
his hands, held together as if he were saying<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</SPAN></span>
his prayers, between them just above the knees.</p>
<p>“After all—was it a matter of so much importance?
A lunch!” I mocked.</p>
<p>He didn’t pay attention to that, and he did not
change his position. “Then Nina saw her. Things
are funny. She’d come on purpose to see her, of
course. Still, when she did, her mouth suddenly
went stiff—you know what I mean? She didn’t
move, though; it was just her mouth. And I stood
there like a fool—actually with one foot on the
ground and one on the step of the car, I believe;
and Jefferson stifling another yawn beside me!</p>
<p>“Donna Lucinda came through the gate of the
drive and up to where the car was standing; it
was sideways on to the gate; Lady Eunice sat on
the side near the gate, I was on the other side,
with Nina between us. Lucinda seemed to see Eunice
first, and to recognize her; she made a very
slight formal little bow—as she would to a customer.
The next second her eyes fell on Nina and
on me. She stopped short, just by the car. Her
cheeks flushed a little, and she gave a little low
exclamation—‘Oh!’ or ‘Ah!’—I hardly heard it.
Then, ‘It’s Nina!’ That was hardly louder. I just
heard it. Eunice, of course, must have and Nina;
I doubt whether Jefferson could. Then she gave a
queer little laugh—what you’d call a chuckle coming
from an ordinary person—as if she were laughing
to herself, inwardly amused, but not expecting
anybody else to share her amusement. She didn’t<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</SPAN></span>
look a bit put out or awkward. But the next moment
she smiled directly at me—across the other
two—and shook her head—sympathizing with me
in my predicament, I think.</p>
<p>“Nina made her a stately bow. She was very dignified,
but a little flushed too. She looked somehow
disturbed and puzzled. It seemed as if she
really were shocked and upset to see Lucinda like
that. The next moment she leant right across
Eunice, throwing out her hand towards the bandbox
that Lucinda was carrying.</p>
<p>“‘Surely there’s no need for you to do that?’ she
said, speaking very low. ‘And—I hope you’re
better?’</p>
<p>“Lucinda spoke up quite loud. ‘I like it, thank
you. There’s every need for me to earn my living;
and I’ve never been better in my life, thank you.’</p>
<p>“Nina turned her head round to the chauffeur.
‘I’ll call you, Jefferson.’ He touched his hat and
strolled off along the road, taking out a cigarette
case. Nina turned back to Lucinda, leaning again
across Lady Eunice, who was sitting back in her seat,
looking rather frightened; I don’t know whether she
knew who Lucinda was; I don’t think so; but it
must have been pretty evident to her that there was
thunder in the air.</p>
<p>“‘How long have you been doing this? Does
your husband know you’re doing it?’</p>
<p>“Her questions sounded sharp and peremptory;
Lucinda might well have resented them.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Of course he knows; he’s known it for three
months. It’s just that I like to be independent.’
She gave a little bow with that, as if she meant to
end the conversation, but before she could walk on—if
that was what she meant to do—Nina flung
herself back on the cushions, exclaiming in a low
voice, but passionately, ‘How dare he tell me lies
like that!’</p>
<p>“‘What do you mean——?’ Lucinda began. But
Nina would not wait for her. ‘Call Jefferson,’ she
told me. ‘Are you coming with us, Godfrey?’</p>
<p>“I called Jefferson, and then answered her question.
‘Thanks awfully, but I’m afraid I can’t. I’m
engaged to lunch.’ And I shut the door of the car
which Jefferson had left still open.</p>
<p>“She looked from me to Lucinda, and back again
to me. It <i>was</i> a look that I got, I can tell you! But
if you’re going to stand up to Nina, you must do
it thoroughly. I looked her full in the eye; of course
she saw that I meant I was going to lunch with
Lucinda. ‘Drive on—to the hotel, Jefferson,’ she
said in that dry voice of hers that means she’s furiously
angry. Off the car went, in at the gates—and
I was left standing on the road opposite Donna
Lucinda.”</p>
<p>Godfrey got up from his seat and walked across
to the fireplace; he appeared to have exhausted his
matches, for he searched for a box there, and found
one at last, hidden under a newspaper on the mantelpiece.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“So, in the end, you lunched with Lucinda, after
all?” I asked.</p>
<p>“No,” he answered, “I didn’t lunch with Lucinda,
as it happened. When I took a step up to
her, she seemed absolutely lost in her own thoughts,
hardly aware of my being there, at least realizing
that I was there with a sort of effort; her eyes didn’t
look as if they saw me at all. ‘You must let me
off to-day, Mr. Frost,’ she said in a hurried murmur.
‘I—I’ve got something to do—something I
must think about.’ Her cheeks were still rather
red; otherwise she was calm enough, but obviously
entirely preoccupied. It would have been silly to
press her; I mean, it would have been an intrusion.
‘All right, of course,’ I said. ‘But when are we to
meet again, Donna Lucinda?’</p>
<p>“‘I don’t know. In a few days, I hope. Not
till I send you word to the hotel.’</p>
<p>“‘Try to make it Sunday.’ I smiled as I added,
‘Then I shall see you in the blue frock; that’s the
one I like best.’</p>
<p>“‘The blue frock!’ she repeated after me. Then
she suddenly raised her free arm—she’d been holding
that infernal bandbox all the time, you know—clenched
her fist and gave it a little shake in the
air. ‘If he’s really done that, I’ll have no more
to do with him in this world again!’ she said. And
off she went down the road, without another word
to me or a glance back. I believe she’d forgotten
my very existence.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Did she turn up on Sunday—in the blue frock?”</p>
<p>“I’ve never set eyes on her since—nor on Arsenio
either. They both appear to have vanished
into space—together or separately, Heaven only
knows! I hunted for Valdez in all the likely places.
I tried for her at the hotel at Cimiez, at her shop,
at her lodgings. I’ve drawn blank everywhere. I
got thoroughly sick and out of heart. So I thought
I’d run up here and see what you thought about it.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know why I should make any mystery
about it,” said I. “Anything that puzzles you will
be quite plain in the light of that letter.”</p>
<p>I took the letter from Arsenio Valdez, which Nina
had given me, out of my pocket, and flung it down
on the table. “Read it—and you’ll understand why
she repeated after you ‘The blue frock!’ That was
what gave her the clew to Nina’s meaning!”</p>
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