all the time."
"Then get Mrs. Mellop to take you," advised her mother, waddling back into the shop; "and don't forget to call, so that I may tell you if I am to remain for the night here. Madame may arrange for me to stay next week; but now I'm in I shan't go out, lest she should refuse to give me the treatment."
When Lady Branwin vanished Audrey shook her pretty head, greatly annoyed, as she did not care very much for Mrs. Mellop. But there was nothing else for her to do, unless Madame Coralie, after examination, refused to permit Lady Branwin to remain for the night. But that could be settled when calling in on her way to the theatre, and then Mrs. Mellop would be with her. There was evidently no escape from Mrs. Mellop, although Audrey would greatly have preferred her mother's company. With a shrug she told the chauffeur to return to the house on Camden Hill, and leant back to adjust the rug over her knees; as she did so, the admiring looks of a young man caught her eye.
He was slim and undersized, puny-limbed and effeminate in a fair-haired, anæmic way, which argued poverty of blood; but being over-dressed, and wearing his straw hat at a rakish tilt, he seemed virile enough to admire a pretty woman when he saw one. In his opinion Audrey deserved his attention, and he bestowed a fascinating leer on her, of which she naturally did not take the slightest notice. The car hummed slowly down the lane, and the young man followed quickly to watch it turn into the High Street; but, for all his pains, he did not catch a second glimpse of its charming occupant.
Meanwhile Madame Coralie conducted Lady Branwin to a bedroom on the ground floor, which looked out on to a lonely court, surrounded by a high brick wall. The shop was left entirely to Zobeide and Peri Banou, and as the first was deaf and the second dumb it would not seem easy for them to converse. But they managed to do so without difficulty, as Peri Banou spoke with her fingers, and, not suffering from Zobeide's defect, could hear her replies without difficulty. She asked a question about Lady Branwin. "She's the wife of Sir Joseph Branwin, the millionaire, who made his money by building seaside towns," answered Zobeide, in the flat tones of the deaf. "As you know, she often comes here to have her looks improved, but until to-day Madame has always refused to help her."
Peri Banou asked another question, and Zobeide nodded. "Oh, yes, she can pay well, but it will cost her a lot before she can be made to look respectable. I say, did you see Madame's husband outside just now?"
Peri Banou laughed, and, smiling very prettily, explained with her fingers that the husband in question had been trying to flirt with the young lady in the motor-car, but without result.
"Lady Branwin's daughter," said Zobeide, stealing to the window and peeping through the pink curtains; "she's a pretty girl and no mistake. But Madame is frightfully jealous, and if she catches her Eddy flirting she'll make it hot for him. He depends entirely on her for his bread-and-butter, you know. Wicked man--he's followed the car. Oh"--she drew back--"here's that tiresome Mrs. Warder, who is never satisfied." And in a few minutes both the girls were attending to a faded, lean woman, who insisted upon having ten years taken from her age, and explained her wants in a querulous voice.
As the hours passed the shop filled with women of all ages and all looks and all positions. There was a babel of voices, and the assistants flew hither and thither like brightly-coloured butterflies. Madame, leaving Lady Branwin to repose in the bedroom, reappeared, and, adopting her cajoling voice, dominated the rattle of tongues, as one who speaks with authority. It was hot enough outside, being a warm June evening, but within, the atmosphere was truly stifling with the glare of the lamps and perfumes of the wares, to say nothing of the fragrant scents used by the customers. One by one they were attended to, and one by one took reluctant leave of that fascinating shop. The four girls began to look weary and fagged, and Badoura with Parizade went upstairs to the room wherein the cosmetics were prepared. Madame Coralie heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed on the last worrying customer--and they all worried--and directed Zobeide and Peri Banou to tidy up the shop.
"It's long past seven," said Madame, with a yawn. "I must return to Lady Branwin, who is to stay for the night."
When she retired the girls made the shop as neat as a new pin, and the time passed very speedily as it always does with the busy. Peri Banou lay down to rest on a divan, but Zobeide, who had to prepare some particular paste required for Lady Branwin's complexion, went up to the still-room. Here she found the effeminate young man who had leered so rakishly at Audrey, and smiled graciously. Eddy Vail--Madame Coralie in private life was Mrs. Vail--knew the finger alphabet and asked her questions.
"Where is my wife?" he demanded anxiously.
Zobeide, noting his eager looks, decided that he wanted money, and laughed. "I think she is with Lady Branwin in the lower back bedroom."
"What, at this time! Why, it's five minutes to eight." And he glanced at the clock over the still-room mantelpiece, again speaking with his fingers.
"I thought it was much later myself," said Zobeide. "Wait for her. I daresay she won't be long. Where are Badoura and Parizade?"
"Behind the curtain," said Vail, with his fingers, and pointing to a figured drapery hanging from the ceiling to the floor, and which ran along a brass rod. "Can't you hear them chattering and laughing?"
Zobeide shot an angry glance at him, as she hated to have any allusion made to her deafness.
She would have said something disagreeable, but that Madame, adjusting her yashmak, entered the room. She looked, so far as could be judged from her eyes, irritated and startled. "I wish Lady Branwin was at the bottom of the sea," she said crossly. "Zobeide, attend to your work. And what do you mean, Eddy, coming up to trouble my girls? You have no right in this room, and I won't have it."
"You never objected before," grumbled Eddy, crossly.
"Then I object now. Go away; I'm busy. Lady Branwin is in the house, and--and others." She hesitated and snapped savagely: "I wish you would go away."
"I want a fiver."
"Then you shan't get it. Come to-morrow, and I'll see what I can do. By the way, I want you to go to Brighton for me."
"I don't mind, if you pay."
"Do I ever object to pay when you go on my business?" asked his wife, crossly, for the heat seemed to have worn her nerves thin.
"What's the business?" asked Eddy, taking out a cigarette.
"I'll tell you to-morrow. Go away now."
"And you'll give me the fiver to-morrow?"
"I'll give you ten pounds."
"Oh, I say, that deserves a kiss. Do remove that beastly yashmak and let me kiss you!"
Madame Coralie pushed him back violently. "Certainly not. I have no time for frivolity. Go away."
The young man looked astonished. "You always liked being kissed before," he remarked sulkily. "Are you going back to Lady Branwin?"
"No. She has had some supper, and will now sleep. I must attend to the paste for her complexion. Zobeide? Go away, Eddy. It's getting late."
"Five minutes after eight," said the young man, and sauntered out of the door. "I'll turn up to-morrow before midday. Good-bye."
Madame Coralie nodded wearily, and stared at the clock on the mantelpiece in a vague way. "Five minutes past eight," she murmured; "well, I thought--"
Her speech
