"Just a snack, Judson. Don't put yourselves out for me, I'm off again directly."

While the estimable Judson went off to get this snack--which resolved itself into an exquisitely-laid lunch--Mr. Vermont dropped into a chair, and surveyed the scene through the open window. Strange to say, his thoughts seemed to run similarly to those of Lady Constance, earlier in the day; for he exclaimed under his breath:

"It's a large stake, worth playing for. Awkward my missing him." He smoothed out a pile of deeds and doc.u.ments and replaced them in his leather bag. "He would have signed these without a word here; at his chambers, he'll amuse himself by reading them, confound it!"

A rustle of silken skirts attracted his attention; the scowl vanished, and he readjusted his smiling mask as the door opened and Lady Constance entered the room.

She had been informed of his sudden arrival; and, though heartily disliking him, she was yet bound to play the part of hostess while her aunt was resting.

Mr. Vermont bowed low over her extended hand, as over that of an empress.

"I hope your ladyship is well?" he asked.

"Quite, thank you, Mr. Vermont," she said with cold indifference. "I suppose you have come down to see Adrien? He started for London before breakfast this very morning."

"So I have just heard," he returned sweetly.

"I am not greatly surprised, as Lady Merivale was asking after him last night. I expect she summoned him."

The girl's face paled ever so slightly, though she strove to give no sign that his shaft had hit home. Adrien had received a letter that morning, as she knew, one having been brought up to her by mistake.

"Very likely," she said imperturbably. "I daresay he had to attend to some business too."

"Adrien is very changeable," Vermont said reflectively, "one can never count on his movements; following him is like wild duck shooting, down the river on Monday, and up the Fens on Tuesday. I'm sorry I missed him, though, for I have several papers which he must see."

Lady Constance tried to appear sympathetic.

"It is a pity you weren't earlier," she said with a smile. "Still, I daresay you know where to find him."

"Oh, yes," returned Mr. Vermont, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, as he aimed his second shaft. "He will be either with Miss Lester or her ladyship; he fluctuates between these two points of happiness as a rule."

Lady Constance did not appear perturbed in any way by this news.

"Lady Merivale is a charming woman," she said briefly. "But who is Miss Lester?"

"She is also a charming woman," was the smooth reply; "but with the difference that she is unattached--save to the theatre."

"Oh! an actress!" exclaimed his companion with patrician contempt. "That reminds me," she continued. "What is your last success at the Casket?"

"_My_ success," echoed Mr. Vermont, with an air of pained astonishment.

"Yes, are you not the manager of that building?" she asked simply.

He bowed and smiled.

"No, Lady Constance," he said. "I fear the world gives me too much credit. I have nothing to do with this whim of Adrien's save to pay out the salaries for the company. The management is his--or rather, perhaps, I should say, Miss Lester's; and I am not answerable for its failure or its successes. I believe, too, he is about to give the whole place to Miss Lester."

Lady Constance started almost unconsciously, and Jasper knew that his words had hit home at last.

"I am sure you do your best to help him," she said, after a moment's pause.

"You are most kind," he returned with a bow and an ironic smile. "I trust you will let me prove my friendship both to Adrien and yourself."

CHAPTER XV

It was the night on which Adrien had returned to town. Jessica, ignorant that he had ever left it, had found her way to his chambers, and waited there patiently and hungrily in the hope of once more seeing him. As the clock struck eight she decided that it was useless to remain any longer, and accordingly retraced her steps through the crowded thoroughfares.

Anything would be better than waiting like this, she thought despairingly.

After the silence of the deserted street, the crowds, pushing and jostling her, brought her almost a feeling of satisfaction. Even if she were alone, at least she could not be solitary while the world rushed past her, in its eager search for pleasure.

At one point near Charing Cross a few curious loafers had collected on either side of the brilliantly-lit facade of a theatre, over which, in coloured lights, was the name, "The Casket."

As Jessica stood watching listlessly, indeed almost unconsciously, a handsome motor rolled up before the imposing entrance. The little group surged back before the white-gloved commissionaire, who hurried forward, but the door of the car had already been thrown open by the chauffeur, and a gentleman and lady stepped out.

At the sight of one of them, Jessica's indifference became changed to a feverish eagerness. The colour left her face, her eyes dilated, her lips parted. She swayed back, half fearful, half desirous that he should see her; for it was he, the man for whom she had waited so long, the man she had enshrined within her heart.

Adrien, all his doubts as to the possibility of winning Constance's love returning to him in full force once he had left her presence, had come down to the theatre with two objects. One to distract his thoughts from his hopes and fears, the other to arrange with Jasper for the entire transfer of the theatre to Ada. He meant this to be the last night as far as the Casket and Ada Lester were concerned.

Absorbed in his own reflections, he hardly saw the group of humble spectators, and did not appear to hear their murmurs of recognition, but turned and held out his hand to a.s.sist the lady who accompanied him.

Jessica's eyes flashed fiercely as they wandered from his face to that of the woman beside him.

"She is beautiful," she murmured beneath her breath. "She is beautiful, and with him!"

All the love which had been aroused in her pa.s.sionate heart surged up, and, for the minute, almost turned to jealous hate. "Beautiful, and with him." It was agony to her to see him as he bent down to catch some light words of his companion, whose perfumed satin cloak swept by the crouching girl, as the pair pa.s.sed into the theatre.

Full well she knew that she herself could never hope to hear his voice, or feel the pressure of his hand; yet it was with the bitterness of death that she saw him pa.s.s her by in the company of this beautiful woman. Mingled also with her jealousy was another feeling, that of partial recognition. For the moment--she could not remember where--but at some time in the past, she fancied she had seen that dark, highly-coloured face, and heard the harsh vulgar voice.

As Leroy turned from the motor, she heard him say to the chauffeur:

"Be here at eleven."

"At eleven," she thought, "then I will be here too, and see him once more."

She hung on the outskirts of the group and listened with greedy ears for any chance word that might arise about her idol.

"A reg'lar beauty, I should just think so," said a man, addressing another who had pa.s.sed a remark on the lady in question. "She's the biggest star on the stage, you bet! Ada Lester knows her value, and ain't likely to forget it neither."

The other man ventured a remark concerning the lady's escort.

"Him? That's Leroy--son of Lord Barminster--the richest of 'em all. She belongs to him, she does; so does the whole theatre. Costs him a pretty penny, you bet. But lor' bless yer, he don't mind! Can't spend his money fast enough. My brother's one of the shifters; and the things he cud tell yer about 'er, and 'er temper, 'ud make yer 'air stand on end."

Jessica moved away, while members of the group aired their knowledge of the rapidly entering, smartly-dressed audience.