She hesitated a little, and he turned his hand and pinched her fingers somewhat mercilessly. "Noel of course--he's too handsome to refuse, isn't he? And the rest of the boys will expect their share, doubtless.

But remember--the supper-dances are mine."

She started a little. "Oh, Nick dear, I'm afraid I've promised those already."

"To whom?" said Nick swiftly.

"Major Hunt-Goring." Her voice was low; she did not look at him as she uttered the name.

Nick's eyebrows shot upwards with lightning rapidity; then drew into a frown. He was silent for a moment before he said very decidedly, "I'm not going to let you dance with Hunt-Goring, so you may as well pa.s.s his dances on to me. If he wants to know the reason, he can ask me--and I shall be delighted to tell him."

He spoke in a fighting tone; there was fight in the grip of his hand.

Olga noted it, and foresaw trouble.

"I'm afraid it's too late now, Nick," she said rather wearily. "I must keep my engagements."

Nick turned and sent one of his keen glances over her. "You won't keep this one," he told her. "I am simply not going to allow it. Those supper-dances are mine, so make up your mind to that!"

He spoke with a finality that made protest seem futile. It seemed to Olga that the yellow face had never looked so grim. She made no further effort to withstand him, aware that to do so would entail a battle of wills which could only end in her defeat. Perhaps deep in the heart of her she was even thankful for this brief reprieve.

She said nothing therefore, and Sir Reginald considerately turned the subject by asking Nick what disguise he intended to a.s.sume.

"I?" said Nick. "I haven't absolutely decided, sir. I've got a fool's dress somewhere that might serve."

He turned, releasing Olga's hand, to take a screw of paper from a salver with which Kasur at that moment approached him.

He glanced at Sir Reginald as he did so, muttered a word of excuse, and deftly opened it. The next instant he crumpled it again in his hand, and spoke over his shoulder to the waiting native.

"Say I will see the moonstone before it is sent away!"

The man departed, and Nick rose. "Afraid I shall have to go to the Palace, sir. Olga, you must take care of Sir Reginald in my absence."

"What! Now, Nick?" Olga looked up in swift surprise.

"Yes, now, my child. Good-bye!" He stooped and lightly kissed her. "I daresay I shan't be late back. If I am, you must go to the Ball without me, and get Sir Reginald to take care of you. I shall turn up some time, you may be sure."

"Important, is it?" asked Sir Reginald.

Nick nodded. "I ought to go, sir. Don't wait for me. I shall follow on if I'm late. In any case," he turned to Olga, "I shall be in time for those supper-dances."

His look flashed over her with a species of quizzical tenderness. "And you are not to give any dances to Hunt-Goring, mind, whatever the bounder says."

He was gone. Free, careless, upright, he strode humming along the verandah and swung round the corner out of sight.

A brief silence descended upon the two who were left. Olga glanced once or twice at Sir Reginald, whose brows were drawn in deep thought.

At length, with slight hesitation she spoke, voicing the anxiety that had been growing within her for many days. "Sir Reginald, do you think he is in any danger when he goes to the city?"

The old soldier came out of his reverie, and met her eyes. He smiled at her, albeit his own were grave. "He is extremely shrewd and capable," he said. "I do not think there is much likelihood of his being taken unawares."

"But it is dangerous?" Olga insisted.

"There is a certain amount of risk certainly." Gravely he admitted the fact. "But I think you need not be over-anxious," he added, with a kindly smile. "Nick is one of those clever people who always manage to win through somehow. They always used to say of him on the Frontier that he bore a charmed life. He has a positive genius for wriggling out of tight corners."

He wished to rea.s.sure her, she saw; but somehow she did not feel rea.s.sured. The conviction was growing upon her that Nick was exposing himself to a danger that would have appalled her had she realized it to its fullest extent.

She said no more to Sir Reginald, but her heart sank. The clouds were gathering thicker and ever thicker on her horizon. She did not dare to look forward any more.

CHAPTER XXII

THE REPRIEVE

"I say, you're magnificent!" said Noel. His hand closed tightly upon Olga's with the words. He looked her up and down with a free admiration too boyish to be offensive. "You're an absolute darling in that get-up!"

he told her with enthusiasm.

It was impossible to be indignant. Olga tried and failed. She had not been aware till that moment that she was making a particularly brave show in her eighteenth-century costume, with her pink satin finery and powdered hair. But there was no mistaking the adulation in the boy's eyes, and even in the midst of her misery she felt a little glow of gratification. He was looking alluringly disreputable in his highwayman's dress, and the dark eyes shone upon her with fascinating audacity as he lifted her hand to his lips.

"So you haven't brought Nick with you?" he said, speaking with laughing haste to cut short her half-hearted rebuke.

"No, Nick was called away," she said. "He'll come later if he can."

"Called away, was he?" Noel paused, with her programme in his hand. "Is that what you are looking so worried about?"

She tried to laugh. "Yes, I am rather worried about him. I am afraid he is taking--big risks."

"Little idiot!" said Noel. "When he's got you to look after. But what do you mean by risks? Where has he gone?"

"I don't know," she said, with a shake of the head. "I don't know anything, Noel. He said something about going to see a moonstone, but I think that was only a blind. He can be rather subtle, you know, when he likes."

"Confound him!" said Noel. "Why doesn't he turn his attention to taking care of you? I've been wanting to have a talk to you for days, but I couldn't work it somehow."

Olga held out her hand for her programme; it shook ever so slightly. "I don't think we have anything very important to talk about," she said.

"But we have!" he said impetuously. "At least I have. Oh, d.a.m.n!--a million apologies! I couldn't help it!--here's that brute Hunt-Goring.

You're not going to dance with him? Say you're full up!"

Hunt-Goring, attired as a Turk, was crossing the room towards them. Olga cast a single glance over her shoulder, and turned to Noel with panic in her eyes.

"I've forgotten something," she said in a palpitating whisper. "I must run back to the cloak-room. Wait for me!"

She was gone with the words, fleeing like a hunted creature, till the gathering crowd hid her from sight.

Hunt-Goring smiled, and turned aside. He had no pressing desire for a public meeting. His turn was coming,--the very fact of her flight proclaimed it,--and he could very well afford to wait. He would make her pay full measure for that same waiting.

He pa.s.sed Noel's scowl with a lazy sneer. The young man would pay also, and that reflection was nectar to his soul. Carelessly he betook himself to the verandah. The dancing did not attract him--so he had told Daisy Musgrave earlier in the day, a remark of which she had been swift to take advantage. For her weariness of her guest was very nearly apparent by that time, and it was a relief to be able to relax her duties as hostess for that evening at least.