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inattentive to the little lecture on antiquities and
novelties, and the cause of his restlessness was soon
apparent, and indeed approaching. Lord Bulmer's
sister, Juliet Bray, was coming slowly across the
lawn, accompanied by one gentleman
and followed by two others. The young architect was
in the illogical condition of mind in which he preferred
three to one.
The man walking with the lady was no other than
the eminent Prince Borodino, who was at least as
famous as a distinguished diplomatist ought to be, in
the interests of what is called secret diplomacy. He
had been paying a round of visits at various English
country houses, and exactly what he was doing for
diplomacy at Prior's Park was as much a secret as
any diplomatist could desire. The obvious thing to say
of his appearance was that he would have been
extremely handsome if he had not been entirely bald.
But, indeed, that would itself be a rather bald way of
putting it. Fantastic as it sounds, it would fit the case
better to say that people would have been surprised
to see hair growing on him; as surprised as if they
had found hair growing on the bust of a Roman
emperor. His tall figure was buttoned up in a tight-waisted
fashion that rather accentuated his potential
bulk, and he wore a red flower in his buttonhole. Of
the two men walking behind one was also bald, but in
a more partial and also a more premature fashion, for
his drooping mustache was still yellow, and if his eyes
were somewhat heavy it was with languor and not
with age. It was Horne Fisher, and he was talking as
easily and idly about everything as he always did. His
always did. His companion was a more striking, and even more
companion was a more striking, and even more
sinister, figure, and he had the added importance of
being Lord Bulmer's oldest and most intimate friend.
He was generally known with a severe simplicity as
Mr. Brain; but it was understood that he had been a
judge and police official in India, and that he had
enemies, who had represented his measures against
crime as themselves almost criminal. He was a
brown skeleton of a man with dark, deep, sunken
eyes and a black mustache that hid the meaning of
his mouth. Though he had the look of one wasted by
some tropical disease, his movements were much
more alert than those of his lounging companion.
"It's all settled," announced the lady, with great
animation, when they came within hailing distance.
"You've all got to put on masquerade things and very
likely skates as well, though the prince says they
don't go with it; but we don't care about that. It's
freezing already, and we don't often get such a
chance in England."
"Even in India we don't exactly skate all the year
round," observed Mr. Brain.
"And even Italy is not primarily associated with
ice," said the Italian.
"Italy is primarily associated with ices," remarked
Mr. Horne Fisher. "I mean with ice cream men.
Most people in this country imagine that Italy is
entirely populated with ice cream men and organ
grinders. There certainly are
a lot of them; perhaps they're an invading army in
disguise."
"How do you know they are not the secret
emissaries of our diplomacy?" asked the prince, with
a slightly scornful smile. "An army of organ grinders
might pick up hints, and their monkeys might pick up
all sort of things."
"The organs are organized in fact," said the
flippant Mr. Fisher. "Well, I've known it pretty cold
before now in Italy and even in India, up on the
Himalayan slopes. The ice on our own little round
pond will be quite cozy by comparison."
Juliet Bray was an attractive lady with dark hair
and eyebrows and dancing eyes, and there was a
geniality and even generosity in her rather imperious
ways. In most matters she could command her
brother, though that nobleman, like many other men of
vague ideas, was not without a touch of the bully
when he was at bay. She could certainly command
her guests, even to the extent of decking out the most
respectable and reluctant of them with her mediaeval
masquerade. And it really seemed as if she could
command the elements also, like a witch. For the
weather steadily hardened and sharpened; that night
the ice of the lake, glimmering in the moonlight, was
like a marble floor, and they had begun to dance and
skate on it before it was dark.
Prior's Park, or, more properly, the surrounding
district of Holinwall, was a country seat that had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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