Picardet, padded. When Lady Tresco brought her four
plain daughters to an "At Home" one night, Medhurst, in evening
dress, disguised as a waiter, followed them each round the room with
obtrusive ices, to satisfy himself just how much of their complexion
was real, and how much was patent rouge and Bloom of Ninon. He
doubted whether Simpson, Sir Charles's valet, was not Colonel Clay
in plain clothes; and he had half an idea that Cesarine herself was
our saucy White Heather in an alternative avatar. We pointed out
to him in vain that Simpson had often been present in the very
same room with David Granton, and that Cesarine had dressed Mrs.
Brabazon's hair at Lucerne: this partially satisfied him, but only
partially. He remarked that Simpson might double both parts with
somebody else unknown; and that as for Cesarine, she might well
have a twin sister who took her place when she was Mme. Picardet.
Still, in spite of all his care--or because of all his care--Colonel
Clay stopped away for whole weeks together. An explanation occurred
to us. Was it possible he knew we were guarded and watched? Was he
afraid of measuring swords with this trained detective?
If so, how had he found it out? I had an inkling, myself--but, under
all the circumstances, I did not mention it to Charles.
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