herself a liqueur. A most excellent dinner and choice wines had loosened tongues, and, in accordance with a prearranged plan, Madame de Vibray had directed the conversation imperceptibly into the channels she wished it to follow. Thus she learned what she had feared to know, namely, that a very serious flirtation had been going on for some time between Thomery and the Princess; that between this beautiful and wealthy young widow and the millionaire sugar refiner, the flirtation was rapidly developing into something much warmer and more lasting. So far, the final stage had evidently not been reached; nevertheless, Thomery had suggested, tentatively, that he would like to give a grand ball when he took possession of the new house which he was having built for himself in the park Monceau! … And had he not been so extremely anxious to secure a partner for the cotillion which he meant to lead! … Then Madame de Vibray had suggested that the person obviously fitted to play this important part was the Princess Sonia Danidoff! Who better!
The suggestion was welcomed by both: it was settled there and then.
"Yes," thought the Baroness, "Thomery's marriage is practically arranged, that is evident! … Well, I must resign myself to the inevitable!"
It was about half-past eleven when Sonia Danidoff rose to take leave of her hostess. Thomery, hesitating, looked first at his old friend, then at the Princess, asking himself what he ought to do. Madame de Vibray felt secretly grateful to him for this momentary hesitation. As a woman whose mourning for a dead love is over, she spoke out bravely:
"Dear friend," said she, "surely you are not going to let the Princess return alone? … I hope she will allow you to see her safely home?"
The Princess pressed the hands of her generous hostess: she was radiant:
"What a good kind friend you are!" she cried in an outburst of sincere affection. Then, with a questioning glance, in which there was a touch of uneasiness, a slight hesitation, she said:
"Ah, do let me kiss you!"
For all reply Madame de Vibray opened her arms; the two women clung together, sealing with their kiss the treaty of peace both wished to keep.
When the humming of the motor-car, which bore off the Princess and Thomery, had died away in the distance, Madame de Vibray retired to her room. A tear rolled down her cheek:
"A little bit of my heart has gone with them," she murmured. The poor woman sighed deeply: "Ah, it is my whole heart that has gone!"
There was a discreet knock at the door. She mastered her emotion. It was the dignified mistress of the house who said quietly:
"Come in!"
It was Antoine, who presented two letters on a silver salver. He explained that, believing his mistress to be anxiously awaiting some news, he had ventured to bring up the last post at this late hour.
After bidding Antoine good night, she recalled him to say:
"Please tell the maid not to come up. I shall not require her. I can manage by myself."
Madame de Vibray went towards the little writing-table, which stood in one corner of her room; in leisurely fashion she sat down and proceeded to open her letters with a wearied air.
"Why, it's from that nice Jacques Dollon!" she exclaimed, as she read the first letter she opened: "I was thinking of him at this very minute!" … "Yes," she went on, as she read, "I shall certainly pay him a visit soon!"
Madame de Vibray put Jacques Dollon's letter in her handbag, recognising on the back of the second letter the initials B. N., which she knew to be the discreet superscription on the business paper of her bankers, Messieurs Barbey-Nanteuil. It was long and closely written, in a fine, regular hand. When she began to read it her attention was wandering, for her mind was full of Sonia Danidoff and Thomery, and what she had ascertained regarding their relation to each other; but little by little she became absorbed in what she was reading, till her whole attention was taken captive. As she read on, however, her eyes opened more and more widely, there was a look of keenest anguish in them, her features contracted as if in pain, her bosom heaved, her fingers were trembling under the stress of some intense emotion:
"Oh, my God! Ah! My God!" she gasped out several times in a half-choked voice.
Silence had reigned for a long while in the smart town house of the Baroness de Vibray in the Avenue Henri-Martin. …
From without came no sound; the avenue was quiet, deserted; the night was dark. But when three o'clock struck, the bedroom of Madame de Vibray was still flooded with light. She had not left her writing-table since she had read the letter of her bankers, Messieurs Barbey-Nanteuil. She wrote on, and on, without intermission.
III
UNEXPECTED COMPLICATIONS
At nine o'clock in the morning, the staff of that great evening paper, La Capitale, were assembled in the vast editorial room, writing out their copy, in the midst of a perfect hubbub of continual comings and goings, of regular shindies, of perpetual discussions.
A stranger entering this room, which among its frequenters went by the name of "The Wild Beasts' Cage," might easily have thought he was witnessing some thirty schoolboys at play in recreation time, instead of being in the presence of famous journalists celebrated for their reports and articles.
Jérôme Fandor had no sooner appeared on the threshold than he was accorded a variety of greetings—ironical, cordial, fault-finding, sympathetic. But he ignored them all; for, like most of those who came into the editorial room at this hour, he was preoccupied with one thing only—where the caprice of his editorial secretary would send him flying for news, in the course of a few minutes? On what difficult and delicate quest would he be despatched? It depended on the exigencies of passing events, on how questions of the hour struck the editorial secretary, in relation to Fandor.
Just as he had expected, the editorial secretary called him.
"Hey! Fandor, come here a minute! I am on the make-up: what have you got for to-day?"
"I don't know. Who has charge of the landing of the King of Spain?"
"Maray. He has just left. Have you seen the last issue of l'Havas?"
"Here it is. … "
The two men ran rapidly through the night's telegrams.
"Deplorably empty!" remarked the editorial secretary. "But where am I to send you? … Ah, now I have it! That article of yours on the rue Norvins affair, yesterday evening, was interesting—it made the others squirm, I know! Isn't there anything more to be got out of that story?"
"What do you want?"
"Can't you stick in something just a little bit scandalous about the Baroness de Vibray? Or about Dollon? About no matter whom, in fact? After all, it's our one and only crime to-day, and you must put in something under that head! … "
Jérôme Fandor seemed to hesitate.
