She suggested an ingenue
who had been suddenly sent on in the role of the Russian
adventuress. Her slight girl's figure was draped in black lace.
Her face was shaded by a large picture hat, heavy with drooping
ostrich feathers; around her shoulders was a necklace of jade,
and on her wrists many bracelets of silver gilt. When she moved
they rattled. As the girl advanced, smiling, to greet Mr.
Hallowell, she suddenly stopped, shivered slightly, and threw
her right arm across her eyes. Her left arm she stretched over
the table.
"Give me your hand!" she commanded. Dubiously, with a watchful
glance at Vance, Mr. Hallowell leaned forward and took her hand.
"You have been ill," cried the girl; "very ill -- I see you -- I
see you in a kind of faint -- very lately." Her voice rose
excitedly. "Yes, last night."
Mr. Hallowell protested with indignation. "You read that in the
morning paper," he said.
Vera lowered her arm from her eyes and turned them reproachfully
on him.
"I don't read the Despatch," she answered.
Mr. Hallowell drew back suspiciously. "I didn't say it was the
Despatch," he returned.
Vance quickly interposed. "You don't have to say it," he
explained with glibness; "you thought it. And Vera read your
thoughts. You were thinking of the Despatch, weren't you? Well,
there you are! It's wonderful!"
"Wonderful? Nonsense!" mocked Mr. Hallowell. "She did read it in
the paper or Rainey told her."
The girl shrugged her shoulders patiently.
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