"Be silent!" said van Heerden angrily. "Have you no decency? Do you not realize I am with a lady?"
"Pardon." The man called Jackson leapt up from the chair into which he had fallen and bowed extravagantly in the direction of the girl. "I cannot see your face because of your hat, my dear lady," he said gallantly, "but I am sure my friend van Heerden, whose taste"
"Will you be quiet?" said van Heerden. "Go to your room and I will come up to you."
"Go to my room!" scoffed the other. "By Jove! I like that! That any whipper-snapper of a sawbones should tell me to go to my room. After what I have been, after the position I have held in society. I have had ambassadors' carriages at my door, my dear fellow, princes of the royal blood, and to be told to go to my room like a naughty little boy! It's too much!"
"Then behave yourself," said van Heerden, "and at least wait until I am free before you approach me again."
But the man showed no inclination to move; rather did this rebuff stimulate his power of reminiscence.
"Ignore me, miss—I have not your name, but I am sure it is a noble one," he said. "You see before you one who in his time has been a squire of dames, by Jove! I can't remember 'em. They must number thousands and only one of them was worth two sous. Yes," he shook his head in melancholy, "only one of 'em. By Jove! The rest were"—he snapped his fingers—"that for 'em!"
The girl listened against her will.
"Jackson!"—and van Heerden's voice trembled with passion—"will you go or must I force you to go?"
Jackson rose with a loud laugh.
"Evidently I am de trop," he said with heavy sarcasm.
He held out a swollen hand which van Heerden ignored.
"Farewell, mademoiselle." He thrust the hand forward, so that she could not miss it.
She took it, a cold flabby thing which sent a shudder of loathing through her frame, and raised her face to his for the first time.
He let the hand drop. He was staring at her with open mouth and features distorted with horror.
