But there
were pictures of them both everywhere. I expect she got the photographs
in, for he doesn't seem a man to like that sort of thing. Lord Dauntrey
was out in South Africa for years, trying to make his fortune, but it
didn't appear to come off. Friends of mine I knew at Brighton, who took
me there, a rich Jew and his wife who'd lived in Africa, said when the
Dauntreys turned up at the Metropole that he'd been at a pretty low ebb
out there. I believe he studied for a doctor, but I don't know if he
ever practised. Nobody can say exactly who Lady Dauntrey was originally,
but she was a widow when he married her, and supposed to have money. He
doesn't seem to care for society, but she's ambitious to be some one.
She's so good-looking she's sure to succeed. I expect to know everybody
smart at Monte. That's what I've been promised, and Lady Dauntrey'll
entertain a good deal. If that doesn't amuse her husband he can shoot
pigeons, and gamble at the Casino. He's got a system at roulette that
works splendidly on his little wheel. We were playing it this evening.
But I expect I'm boring you. You look sleepy. I'll turn in, and go
bye-bye with Diablette."
For the rest of the night all was silence in the compartment, save for
the gobbling noises made in her sleep by the griffon Diablette. Mary lay
awake in her upper berth, longing to look out, and thrilling to musical
cries of big baritone voices at the few stops the train made: "Di-jon-n,
cinq minutes d'arret! Ma-con-n, cinq minutes d'ar-ret! Ly-on, dix
minutes d'a-rr-et!"
It was wonderful to hear the names ring like bells out of the mystery
and darkness of night, names she had known all her life since she had
been old enough to study history or read romance.
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