"That's one comfort. And it's much more convenient
for us not to go to Monte Carlo, on other people's business. Mary
Grant's jewels are nothing to us."
"Of course not," Peter agreed, pleasantly. "I hope Mary's well?"
"Then you'll be disappointed," Eve replied, her eyes very bright. "She's
far from well. My husband, an experienced doctor, has been treated
unbearably by the Prince. You can bear witness that he leaves his
patient only because he was insulted. I advise you, if you're fond of
Mary Grant, to get in some one else, or it may be too late. It's
impossible to know what she may have done, but my private opinion is
that her love troubles were too much for her, and she took
something----"
"Eve!" Dauntrey stopped his wife. "Be careful what you say."
"Well, it's no longer our affair, since the Prince has taken matters
into his own hands, and practically turned out Mary's best friends. Good
afternoon, Miss Maxwell."
They walked off quickly, without looking back, the two tall figures
marching shoulder to shoulder in the direction of Latte, the nearest
railway station.
"You oughtn't to have said what you did," Dauntrey reproached Eve.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "That girl nearly drove me mad. To think she's
got the jewels! Nothing to pay us for it all, except the money from the
cheque."
"Serves us right," Dauntrey said grimly. "I'd thank God we're out of it
at any price, if God was likely to be looking after us. Better thank
the devil.
Pages:
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574