The Brother of Daphne Part 67

She saw me, and stopped, colouring.

"He is here, in the car."

She closed her eyes once more, and the colour had faded from her cheeks before she spoke again. "Where are we going?" she said.

"To the Opera House, dear. You see, I am singing there. I would take you home, but I am late now. My maid, she will make you comfortable. I have nice rooms at the theatre, quite an apartment." She turned to me.

"And you will come, too, please. There is plenty of room. Besides she is in your charge."

"Of course," said I. "Thank you very much."

As she had said, a regular little suite had been allotted to our hostess at the Opera House. As well as the dressingroom, there was a bathroom and a large sitting-room, with flowers everywhere, and beautifully furnished. Here I waited, wondering a little. The others had pa.s.sed into the dressing-room.

Presently Yvonne, the French maid, entered the room.

"Mademoiselle recovers, monsieur," she said, with a smile. "Also she dines here, and monsieur with her. It is all arranged.

"If you please," said I. It seemed about the best thing to say.

Very swiftly she laid the table for two--a cold chicken, some salad, rolls, and a bottle of champagne. Thank you.

"It is not much," said Yvonne apologetically. "Now at Madame's house--"

"Yvonne!" came from the dressing-room.

"Pardon, monsieur."

Yvonne disappeared. Five minutes later a telephone bell rang. Then the dressing-room door opened, and Madame came forth robed, and the girl with her, looking as right as rain.

"That was my call," said our hostess. "I go to sing now. By the time you have finished, I shall be back, and then, later, if you would like to sit in a box for a little while, it will be quiet for you both.

Come, Yvonne."

She swept out of the room. Yvonne closed the door behind her.

"I like her," said I.

"She's a dear," said my companion.

"I like you, too," said I.

She swept me a curtsey.

"It was silly of me to faint."

"You did it so sweetly."

"This'll teach you not to take other people's taxis."

"On the contrary--

"Would you like to give me some chicken?"

"I should like--"

"Yes?"

She looked at me straight in the eyes.

I walked to the table and took up the knife and fork.

"Yes?"

I looked at her, smiling gloriously now.

"Oh, I'd like Berry to see us now."

She came across and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"I like you, too," she said.

We had a great meal. She didn't want to drink any champagne, but I persuaded her to take a little.

"And who's Berry?" she said, pus.h.i.+ng back her chair.

"A mistake," said I. "A great mistake. That's what he is."

She laughed.

"Who made him?"

"My sister. She married him, you see."

"Of course, I shall get confused in a moment."

"Well, things have got a move on in the last hour and a quarter, haven't they? I mean to say, at five o'clock you found a stranger in your taxi. Five minutes later you were smashed up. Now you're in a prima donna's room at the Opera House, eating a cold collation.

Collation is good, isn't it?"

"Awfully? Where did you hear it?"

I frowned. "I came out top in dictation last term."

"Indeed? Genius and madness do go together, don't they? You are mad, aren't you?"

"Raving, my dear. I've been certified for two years come Ember. Out on licence under the new c.o.c.k and Bull Bill. You know, 'And your pet.i.tioners will ever Pray--'"

"I suppose you do have lucid intervals?"

"Only on third Tuesdays."