"You will be famous when the name of Adrienne de Gervais is known no longer," she said at last.

Diana stared at her in surprise.

"But why? Even if I should succeed, within the next few years, you will still be Adrienne de Gervais, the famous actress."

Adrienne smiled across at her.

"Ah, I cannot tell you why," she said lightly. "But--I think it will be like that."

Her eyes gazed dreamily into s.p.a.ce, as though she perceived some vision of the future, but whether that future were of rose and gold or only of a dull grey, Diana could not tell.

Of Max Errington she saw very little. It seemed as though he were determined to avoid her, for she frequently saw him leaving Adrienne's house on a day when she was expected there--hurrying away just as she herself was approaching from the opposite end of the street.

Only once or twice, when she had chanced to pay an unexpected visit, had he come in and found her there. On these occasions his manner had been studiously cold and indifferent, and any effort on her part towards establishing a more friendly footing had been invariably checked by some cruelly ironical remark, which had brought the blood to her cheeks and, almost, the tears to her eyes. She reflected grimly that Olga Lermontof's warning words had proved decidedly superfluous.

Meanwhile, she had struck up a friendship with Errington's private secretary, a young man of the name of Jerry Leigh, who was a frequent visitor at Adrienne's house. Jerry was, in truth, the sort of person with whom it was impossible to be otherwise than friendly. He was of a delightful ugliness, twenty-five years of age, penniless except for the salary he received from Errington, and he possessed a talent for friendship much as other folk possess a talent for music or art or dancing.

Diana's first meeting with him had occurred quite by chance. Both Adrienne and Mrs. Adams happened to be out one afternoon when she called, and she was awaiting their return when the door of the drawing-room suddenly opened to admit a remarkably plain young man, who, on seeing her ensconced in one of the big arm-chairs, stood hesitating as though undecided whether to remain or to take refuge in instant flight.

Adrienne had talked so much about Jerry--of whom she was exceedingly fond--and had so often described his charming ugliness to Diana that the latter was in no doubt at all as to whom the newcomer might be.

She nodded to him rea.s.suringly.

"Don't run away," she said calmly, "I don't bite."

The young man promptly closed the door and advanced into the room.

"Don't you?" he said in relieved tones. "Thank you for telling me.

One never knows."

"If you've come to see Miss de Gervais, I'm afraid you can't at present, as she's out," pursued Diana. "I'm waiting for her."

"Then we can wait together," returned Mr. Leigh, with an engaging smile. "It will be much more amusing than waiting in solitude, won't it?"

"That I can't tell you--yet," replied Diana demurely.

"I'll ask you again in half an hour," he returned undaunted. "I'm Leigh, you know. Jerry Leigh, Errington's secretary."

"I suppose, then, you're a very busy person?"

"Well, pretty much so in the mornings and sometimes up till late at night, but Errington's a rattling good 'boss' and very often gives me an 'afternoon out.' That's why I'm here now. I'm off duty and Miss de Gervais told me I might come to tea whenever I'm free. You see"--confidentially--"I've very few friends in London."

"Same here," responded Diana shortly.

"No, not really?"--with obvious satisfaction. "Then we ought to pal up together, oughtn't we?"

"Don't you want my credentials?" asked Diana, smiling,

"Lord, no! One has only to look at you."

Diana laughed outright.

"That's quite the nicest compliment I've ever received, Mr. Leigh," she said.

(It was odd that while Errington always made her feel rather small and depressingly young, with Jerry Leigh she felt herself to be quite a woman of the world.)

"It isn't a compliment," protested Jerry stoutly. "It's just the plain, unvarnished truth."

"I'm afraid your 'boss' wouldn't agree with you."

"Oh, nonsense!"

"Indeed it isn't. He always treats me as though I were a hot potato, and he were afraid of burning his fingers."

Jerry roared.

"Well, perhaps he's got good reason."

Diana shook; her head smilingly.

"Oh, no. It's not that. Mr. Errington doesn't like me."

Jerry stared at her reflectively.

"That couldn't be true," he said at last, with conviction.

"I don't know that I like him--very much--either," pursued Diana.

"You would if you really knew him," said the boy eagerly. "He's one of the very best."

"He's rather a mysterious person, don't you think?"

Jerry regarded her very straightly.

"Oh, well," he returned bluntly, "every man's a right to have his own private affairs."

Then there _was_ something!

Diana felt her heart beat a little faster. She had thrown out the remark as the merest feeler, and now his own secretary, the man who must be nearer to him than any other, had given what was tantamount to an acknowledgment of the fact that Errington's life held some secret.

"Anyway"--Jerry was speaking again--"_I've_ got good reason to be grateful to him. I was on my uppers when he happened along--and without any prospect of re-soling. I'd played the fool at Monte Carlo, and, like a brick, he offered me the job of private secretary, and I've been with him ever since. I'd no references, either--he just took me on trust."

"That was very kind of him," said Diana slowly.

"Kind! There isn't one man in a hundred who'll give a chance like that to a young a.s.s that's played the goat as I did."

"No," agreed Diana. "But," she added, rather low, "he isn't always kind."