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第8部分（第2页）

What　was　there　in　these　words　that　came　back　to　Katherine　with　a　faint　feeling　of　sadness　after　she　had　left　the　dressmaking　establishment。

〃Soupir　dautomne；　that　is　truly　the　dress　of　Mademoiselle。〃　Autumn；　yes；　it　was　autumn　for　her。　She　who　had　never　known　spring　or　summer；　and　would　never　know　them　now。　Something　she　had　lost　never　could　be　given　to　her　again。　These　years　of　servitude　in　St　Mary　Mead　…　and　all　the　while　life　passing　by。

〃I　am　an　idiot；〃　said　Katherine。　〃I　am　an　idiot。　What　do　I　want？　Why；　I　was　more　contented　a　month　ago　than　I　am　now。〃

She　drew　out　from　her　handbag　the　letter　she　had　received　that　morning　from　Lady　Tamplin。　Katherine　was　no　fool。　She　understood　the　nuances　of　that　letter　as　well　as　anybody　and　the　reason　of　Lady　Tamplins　sudden　show　of　affection　towards　a　long…forgotten　cousin　was　not　lost　upon　her。　It　was　for　profit　and　not　for　pleasure　that　Lady　Tamplin　was　so　anxious　for　the　pany　of　her　dear　cousin。　Well；　why　not？　There　would　be　profit　on　both　sides。

〃I　will　go；〃　said　Katherine。

She　was　walking　down　Piccadilly　at　the　moment；　and　turned　into　Cooks　to　clinch　the　matter　then　and　there。　She　had　to　wait　for　a　few　minutes。　The　man　with　whom　the　clerk　was　engaged　was　also　going　to　the　Riviera。　Everyone；　she　felt；　was　going。　Well；　for　the　first　time　in　her　life；　she；　too；　would　be　doing　what　everybody　did。

The　man　in　front　of　her　turned　abruptly；　and　she　stepped　into　his　place。　She　made　her　demand　to　the　clerk；　but　at　the　same　time　half　of　her　mind　was　busy　with　something　else。　That　mans　face　…　in　some　vague　way　it　was　familiar　to　her。　Where　had　she　seen　him　before？　Suddenly　she　remembered。　It　was　in　the　Savoy　outside　her　room　that　morning。

She　had　collided　with　him　in　the　passage。

Rather　an　odd　coincidence　that　she　should　run　into　him　twice　in　a　day。　She　glanced　over　her　shoulder；　rendered　uneasy　by　something；　she　knew　not　what。　The　man　was　standing　in　the　doorway　looking　back　at　her。　A　cold　shiver　passed　over　Katherine；　she　had　a　haunting　sense　of　tragedy；　of　doom　impending。。。

Then　she　shook　the　impression　from　her　with　her　usual　good　sense　and　turned　her　whole　attention　to　what　the　clerk　was　saying。

Chapter　9

AN　OFFER　REFUSED

It　was　rarely　that　Derek　Kettering　allowed　his　temper　to　get　the　better　of　him。　An　easygoing　insouciance　was　his　chief　characteristic　and　it　had　stood　him　in　good　stead　in　more　than　one　tight　corner。　Even　now；　by　the　time　he　had　left　Mirelles　flat；　he　had　cooled　down。　He　had　need　of　coolness。　The　corner　he　was　in　now　was　a　tighter　one　than　he　had　ever　been　in　before；　and　unforeseen　factors　had　arisen　with　which；　for　the　moment；　he　did　not　know　how　to　deal。

He　strolled　along　deep　in　thought。　His　brow　was　furrowed；　and　there　was　none　of　the　easy；　jaunty　manner　which　sat　so　well　on　him。　Various　possibilities　floated　trough　his　mind。　It　might　have　been　said　of　Derek　Kettering　that　he　was　less　of　a　fool　than　he　looked。　He　saw　several　roads　that　he　might　take　…　one　in　particular。　If　he　shrank　from　it；　it　was　for　the　moment　only。

Desperate　ills　need　desperate　remedies。　He　had　gauged　his　father…in…law　correctly。　A　war　between　Derek　Kettering　and　Rufus　Van　Aldin　could　end　only　one　way。　Derek　damned　money　and　the　power　of　money　vehemently　to　himself。　He　walked　up　St　Jamess　Street；　across　Piccadilly；　and　strolled　along　it　in　the　direction　of　Piccadilly　Circus。　As　he　passed　the　offices　of　Messrs。　Thomas　Cook　&　Sons　his　footsteps　slackened。　He　walked　on；　however；　still　turning　the　matter　over　in　his　mind。　Finally；　he　gave　a　brief　nod　of　his　head；　turned　sharply　…　so　sharply　as　to　collide　with　a　couple　of　pedestrians　who　were　following　in　his　footsteps；　and　went　back　the　way　he　had　e。　This　time　he　did　not　pass　Cooks；　but　went　in。　The　office　was　paratively　empty；　and　he　got　attended　to　at　once。

〃I　want　to　go　to　Nice　next　week。　Will　you　give　me　particulars？〃

〃What　date；　sir？〃

〃The　14th。　What　is　the　best　train？〃

〃Well；　of　course；　the　best　train　is　what　they　call　The　Blue　Train。　You　avoid　the　tiresome　Customs　business　at　Calais。〃

Derek　nodded。　He　knew　all　this；　none　better。

〃The　14th；〃　murmured　the　clerk；　〃that　is　rather　soon。　The　Blue　Train　is　nearly　always　all　booked　up。〃

〃See　if　there　is　a　berth　left；〃　said　Derek。

〃If　there　is　not　…〃　He　left　the　sentence　unfinished　with　a　curious　smile　on　his　face。

The　clerk　disappeared　for　a　few　minutes；　and　presently　returned。　〃That　is　all　right；　sir；　still　three　berths　left。　I　will　book　you　one　of　them。　What　name？〃

〃Pavett；〃　said　Derek。　He　gave　the　address　of　his　rooms　in　Jermyn　Street。

The　clerk　nodded；　finished　writing　it　down；　wished　Derek　good　morning　politely；　and　turned　his　attention　to　the　next　client。

〃I　want　to　go　to　Nice　…　on　the　14th。　Isnt　there　a　train　called　the　Blue　Train？〃

Derek　looked　round　sharply。

Coincidence　…　a　strange　coincidence。　He　remembered　his　own　half…whimsical　words　to　Mirelle；　〃Portrait　of　a　lady　with　grey　eyes。　I　dont　suppose　I　shall　ever　see　her　again。〃　But　he　had　seen　her　again；　and；　what　was　more；　she　proposed　to　travel　to　the　Riviera　on　the　same　day　as　he　did。

Just　for　a　moment　a　shiver　passed　over　him；　in　some　ways　he　was　superstitious。　He　had　said；　half…laughingly；　that　this　woman　might　bring　him　bad　luck。　Suppose　…　suppose　that　should　prove　to　be　true。　From　the　doorway　he　looked　back　at　her　as　she　stood　talking　to　the　clerk。　For　once　his　memory　had　not　played　him　false。　A　lady　…　a　lady　in　every　sense　of　the　word。　Not　very　young；　not　singularly　beautiful。　But　with　something　…　grey　eyes　that　might　perhaps　see　too　much。　He　knew　as　he　went　out　of　the　door　that　in　some　way　he　was　afraid　of　this　woman。　He　had　a　sense　of　fatality。

He　went　back　to　his　rooms　in　Jermyn　Street　and　summoned　his　man。

〃Take　this　cheque；　Pavett；　cash　it　first　thing　in　the　morning；　and　go　around　to　Cooks　in　Piccadilly。　They　will　have　some　tickets　there　booked　in　your　name；　pay　for　them；　and　bring　them　back。〃

〃Very　good；　sir。〃

Pavett　withdrew。

Derek　strolled　over　to　a　side…table　and　picked　up　a　handful　of　letters。　They　were　of　a　type　only　too　familiar。　Bills；　small　bills　and　large　bills；　one　and　all　pressing　for　payment。

The　tone　of　the　demands　was　still　polite。

Derek　knew　how　soon　that　polite　ton

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