is like that when she sings,” Laverick remarked. “She has none of the vivacity of the Frenchwomen. Yet there was never anything so graceful in the world as the way she moves about the stage.”
“If I were a man,” Zoe sighed, “that is the sort of woman I would die for.”
“If you were a man,” he replied, “you would probably find some one whom you preferred to live for. Do you know, you are rather a morbid sort of person, Miss Zoe?”
“Ah, I like that!” she declared. “I will not be called Miss Leneveu any more by you. You must call me Miss Zoe, please,—Zoe, if you like.”
“Zoe, by all means. Under the circumstances, I think it is only fitting.”
His eyes wandered across the room again.
“Ah!” she cried softly, “you, too, are coming under the spell, then. I was reading about her only the other day. They say that so many men fall in love with her—so many men to whom she gives no encouragement at all.”
Laverick looked into his companion’s face.
“Come,” he said, “my heart is not so easily won. I can assure you that I never aspire to so mighty a personage as a Covent Garden star. Don’t you know that she gets a salary of five hundred pounds a week, and wears ropes of pearls which would represent ten times my entire income? Heaven alone knows what her gowns cost!”
“After all, though,” murmured Zoe, “she is a woman. See, your friend is coming to speak to you.”
Bellamy was indeed crossing the room. He nodded to Laverick and bowed to his companion.
“Forgive my intruding, Laverick,” he said. “You do remember me, I hope? Bellamy, you know.”
“I remember you quite well. We used to play together at Lord’s, even after we left school.”
Bellamy smiled.
“That is so,” he answered. “I see by the papers that you have kept up your cricket. Mine, alas! has had to go. I have been too much of a rolling stone lately. Do you know that I have come to ask you a favor?”
“Go ahead,” Laverick interposed.
“Mademoiselle Idiale has a fancy to meet you,” Bellamy explained. “You know, or I dare say you have heard, what a creature of whims she is. If you won’t come across and be introduced like a good fellow, she probably won’t speak a word all through supper-time, go off in a huff, and my evening will be spoiled.”
Laverick laughed heartily. A little smile played at the corner of Zoe’s lips—nevertheless, she was looking slightly anxious.
“Under those circumstances,” remarked Laverick, “perhaps I had better go. You will understand,” he added, with a glance at Zoe, “that I cannot stay for more than a second.”
“Naturally,” Bellamy answered. “If Mademoiselle really has anything to say to you, I will, if I am permitted, return for a moment.”
Laverick introduced him to Zoe.
“I am sure I have seen you at the Universal,” he declared. “You’re in the front row, aren’t you? I have seen you in that clever little step-dance and song in the second act.”
She nodded, evidently pleased.
“Does it seem clever to you?” she asked wistfully. “You see, we are all so tired of it.”
“I think it is ripping,” Bellamy declared. “I shall have the pleasure again directly,” he added, with a bow.
The two men crossed the room.
“What the dickens does Mademoiselle Idiale want with me?” Laverick demanded. “Does she know that I am a poor stockbroker, struggling against hard times?”
Bellamy shrugged his shoulders.
“She isn’t the sort to care who or what you are,” he answered. “And as for the rest, I suppose she could buy any of us up if she wanted to. Her interest in you is rather a curious one. No time to explain it now. She’ll tell you.”
Louise smiled as he paused before her. She was certainly exquisitely beautiful. Her dress, her carriage, her delicate hands, even her voice, were all perfection. She gave him the tips of her fingers as Bellamy pronounced his name.
“It is so kind of you,” she said, “to come and speak to me. And indeed you will laugh when I tell you why I thought that I would like to say one word with you.”
Laverick bowed.
“I am thankful, Mademoiselle,” he replied, “for anything which procures me such a pleasure.”
She smiled.
“Ah! you, too, are gallant,” she said. “But indeed, then, I fear you will not be flattered when I tell you why I was so interested. I read all your newspapers. I read of that terrible murder in Crooked Friars’ Alley only a few days ago,—is not that how you call the place?”
Laverick was suddenly grave. What was this that was coming?
“One of the reports,” she continued, “says that the man was a foreigner. The maker’s name upon his clothes was Austrian. I, too, come from that part of Europe—if not from Austria, from a country very near—and I am always interested in my country-people. A few moments ago I asked my friend Mr. Bellamy, ‘Where is this Crooked Friars’ Alley?’ Just then he bowed to you, and he answered me, ‘It is in the city. It is within a yard or two of the offices of the gentleman to whom I just have said good-evening.’ So I looked across at you and I thought that it was strange.”
Laverick scarcely knew what to say.
“It was a terrible affair,” he admitted, “and, as Mr. Bellamy has told you, it occurred within a few steps of my office. So far, too, the police seem completely at a loss.”
“Ah!” she went on, shaking her head, “your police, I am afraid they are not very clever. It is too bad, but I am afraid that it is so. Tell me, Mr. Laverick, is this, then, a very lonely spot where your offices are?”
“Not at all,” Laverick replied. “On the contrary, in the daytime it might be called the heart of the city—of the money-making part of the city, at any rate. Only this thing, you see, seems to have taken place very late at night.”
“When all the offices were closed,” she remarked.
“Most of them,” Laverick answered. “Mine, as it happened, was open late that night. I passed the spot within half-an-hour or so of the time when the murder must have been committed.”
“But that is terrible!” she declared, shaking her head. “Tell me, Mr. Laverick, if I drive to your office some morning you will show me this place,—yes?”
“If you are in earnest, Mademoiselle, I will certainly do so, but there is nothing there. It is just a passage.”
“You give me your address,” she insisted, “and I think that I will come. You are a stockbroker, Mr. Bellamy tells me. Well, sometimes
