“Nothing to worry about there!” she said, smilingly and encouragingly.
“I just ran into him before I met you.
Besides, how many years has it been since I last saw you?”
“Oh, quite a few.
But whose fault is that?
And what about your yacht?”
“Only my regular skipper, I swear!
How would you like to take a cruise?”
Tollifer was nonplussed.
Here was one of those opportunities of which he had been dreaming. And obviously now he could not take advantage of it. He must go on with what he had agreed to do, or there would be an end to all this.
“Well,” he said, laughingly, “you’re not sailing tomorrow?”
“Oh, no!”
“If you’re serious, be careful!”
“Never more serious in my life,” she replied.
“That remains to be seen.
Anyway, will you have luncheon with me one day this week?
We’ll walk in the Tuileries afterward.”
A little later he paid the bill and they left.
Sabinal’s. Midnight.
The customary swarm of people.
Gambling.
Dancing.
Intimate groups in brisk or lazy conversation.
Sabinal himself coming forward to greet Tollifer and his party, and suggesting they adjourn to his apartment until one o’clock, when a popular troupe of Russian singers and dancers would perform.
Sabinal was the possessor of notable jewels, medieval Italian glass and silver, Asiatic fabrics of rare texture and color, but even more impressive than his collection—which he exhibited in the most casual manner—was his own elusive and Mephistophelean self, a shadowy and yet intriguing force which affected all as might an opiate.
He knew so many people, and such interesting places.
In the fall, he was planning a trip, he said; closing up his place for a while. He was off to the Orient to collect fine objects which later he would sell to private collectors.
Indeed, his income from this sort of quest was considerable.
Aileen, as well as the others, was enchanted.
She was delighted with the place.
All the more so because Tollifer was careful not to explain to any of them the commercial basis on which it was conducted.
He intended sending his personal check to Sabinal, but preferred them to take away the impression that Sabinal was a friend of his.
Chapter 35
The importance of Tollifer’s job was impressed on him by the receipt, on the third day after Aileen’s arrival, of an additional $2,000 in cash from the Paris fiscal agent of the Central Trust of New York, which, before his leaving, had notified him to keep their London and Paris offices advised of his address.
There was no doubt of Aileen’s compliant mood in regard to him.
Telephoning her some five hours after their visit to Sabinal’s, and suggesting they have lunch together, he could tell from the tone of her voice that she was glad to hear from him again.
It was the feeling of companionship with someone who seemed to take a personal interest in her that made her happy.
In some respects, he was so like the Cowperwood of old, energetic, cordial, and not a little managerial.
He left the telephone whistling.
His attitude toward her was more kindly than it had been when he first considered the task.
For in studying her so far, he was fully able to grasp what the favor and affection of Cowperwood must have meant to her, and what its complete loss must spell to her now.
Often moody himself, and for not dissimilar reasons, he could sympathize with her.
The night before, at Sabinal’s when Marigold and Mrs. Thorne had at times so casually and indifferently excluded her from their conversation, he had noticed a neglected and helpless look on her face.
It had moved him to take her away from the group for a few minutes’ play at the roulette wheel.
Unquestionably, she was going to prove a difficult protegee. But that was his job, and on the success of it rested his future.
But, my God, he said to himself: she ought to take off at least twenty pounds!
And she needs the right clothes, and a few attractive mannerisms.
She’s too tame.
She needs to be made to respect herself, and then these other people will respect her.
If I can’t do that for her, she’ll do me more harm than good, money or no money!