back smoothly from her face. Her attitude toward Castro suggested that he meant little to her, except maybe the publicity which contact with him might bring her. Turning to Aileen and Tollifer, she proceeded to relate that only recently she and Castro had made a tour of the Balkans, an admission—and coming so soon after Tollifer’s explanation to Aileen that the two were merely good friends—which somewhat startled Aileen, since always, and regardless of her personal and private transgressions, she was a little overawed by convention. Yet this woman •was so suave and assured as practically to laugh at the demands of organized society. Aileen was fascinated.
“You see, in the East,” said Madame Rezstadt, commenting on her trip, “the women are slaves. Truly, only the gypsies appear to be free, and they, of course, have no position. The wives of most of the officials and men of title are really slaves, living in fear of their husbands.”
Aileen smiled wanly at this. “That is probably not true of the East alone,” she said.
Madame Rezstadt smiled wisely. “No,” she said, “not exactly. We have slaves here, too. In Ahmayreecah, too, yaays?” She showed her even white teeth.
Aileen laughed, thinking of her emotional enslavement to Cowperwood. How was it that a woman like this could be so wholly emancipated, caring apparently for no man, at least not deeply or torturingly, whereas she . . . At once she wished that she might know her better, perhaps by contact gather some of her emotional calm and social indifference.
Curiously enough, Madame Rezstadt appeared to show more than a casual interest in her. She asked Aileen about her life in America. How long was she to be in Paris? Where was she staying? She suggested they have lunch together on the following day, to which Aileen agreed with alacrity.
At the same time, her head was swimming with all of the practical business of the afternoon, and Tollifer’s part in it. For most certainly, and by the pleasant indirection of shopping, there had been conveyed to her a sense of her personal lacks, which, at the same time, she had been convinced could be remedied. There was to be a doctor, a masseuse, a diet, and a new method of facial massage. She was to be changed, and by Tollifer. But for what purpose? And to what end? Plainly, he was not attempting familiarities. There was only this platonic relationship. She was puzzled. Yet what difference? Cowperwood was not interested, and she must find some way to go on with her life.
Back in her hotel suite, Aileen felt a sudden and poignant longing for one person, in all the world, to whom she could confide her troubles, one person with whom she could relax and be natural. She would like a friend whose criticism she need not fear, whose confidence she could trust. There was something about Maria Rezstadt, as she had pressed Aileen’s hand in parting, that made her feel that in her she might find these things or a semblance of them.
But the original ten days which she had planned for this visit passed swiftly enough. In fact, when they were gone, she was by no means ready to return to London. For, as she suddenly sensed, Tollifer, with his advice and his array of skilled workers, had launched a campaign which meant a physical as well as aesthetic improvement which would require time, and might even result in a change of attitude on the part of Cowperwood. She was not old, she now said to herself, and now that he was involved in this engrossing commercial struggle, he might be willing to accept her on an affectionate, if not a sensual, basis. He would, in England, she fancied, require a stabilization of his social life and might find it advisable as well as agreeable to live with her more constantly, to make a more open and public profession of his interest and satisfaction in so doing.
And so, eagerly, she began to scan herself in the mirror, to take painstaking care to obey the dietary and beautifying instructions given to her daily by Sarah Schimmel. She began to recognize the effectiveness of the unique costumes being chosen for her. And so, rapidly, as she gained in self-confidence, and accordingly in poise, she began to think constantly of Cowperwood, so much so that she was quite gay in her anticipation of what must be his surprise and, she hoped, pleasure, when he saw her again. For that reason she decided to remain in Paris until she had lost at least twenty pounds in weight, and so could wear the creations which Monsieur Richard so enthusiastically planned for her. And she wished also to test the new coiffures that were being suggested by her hairdresser. Ah, if only this might not be all in vain!
In consequence, she wrote Cowperwood that her Paris visit was proving so interesting—thanks to Mr. Tollifer—that she was staying on three or four weeks longer. “For once in my life,” she added, with a trace of gaiety, “I’m getting along very well without you, and am well looked after.”
When Cowperwood read this, it had a strangely saddening effect on him. For he had so slyly arranged it all. At the same time there flashed into his mind the thought that Berenice had also had a part in it. Primarily, it had been her suggestion. He had seized upon it as the only way to happiness with her, and so it was. Still, what of a mind that could think so shrewdly and ruthlessly? Might it not one day be turned on him? And then, what, since he cared so much? The idea was irritating. To dismiss it, he reasoned that as he had met all things, so, when the time came, he would meet that.
Chapter 36
As a result of his talk with Cowperwood in Brown’s Hotel, Johnson decided that a meeting between Cowperwood and Lord Stane was the next logical step in arriving at a decision as to the part they might play in future negotiations.
“You wouldn’t risk anything by talking to him,” was the way he put it to Stane. “Of course, we’ll make it plain that if we go in with him, our services in helping him get control of the loop will cost him 50 per cent of whatever that control is. Then we might arrange with some of the shareholders of the Metropolitan and the District to come in and help make up the 51 per cent and so keep control.”
Lord Stane nodded. “Go on,” he said.
“That would fix it, you see,” continued Johnson, “so that whatever else happened, we, with some others— Colvay, Jeems, and maybe Dighton—would be in control, and he would have to deal with us as joint owners of this central service.”
“That certainly sounds all right to me,” said Stane, surveying him calmly. “Anyway, I should like to meet the fellow. You may ask him to my home whenever you wish. Just let me know when it is to be. I can tell more about it after I meet him.”
Accordingly, on a certain warm June day, Cowperwood climbed into a carriage with Johnson and together they drove through pleasant London streets to the home of Lord Stane.
Cowperwood was doubtful as to how much of his intricate and secret plan he should reveal in this forthcoming interview. In fact, he had been playing with the thought that however successful he might be with Stane and Johnson, it would be well to sound out Abington Scarr. He might let him in on his Baker Street & Waterloo act. Possessing that, and such other acts as he could pick up through Haddonfield and possibly Lord Ettinge, he would be in a position to dictate even to this loop organization.
As they drew up to Stane’s house in Berkeley Square, he was impressed by its square, dignified solidity. It seemed to breathe a security which certainly had nothing to do with trade. Inside, the liveried footman, the silence of the large salon of the first floor, created an atmosphere pleasing to him and yet not sufficient to disturb his personal sense of values. It was quite right for this man to be as secure as he could be. It was quite right for himself, if he could, to involve him and make him richer, or use him, and skill failing him, sweep all away.
But now Johnson suggested that it might interest him to look at some of Lord Stane’s paintings, since the butler had just informed him that Stane had telephoned to say that he would be a few minutes late. The attitude of the solicitor in his role of temporary host was anxious. Cowperwood said he would indeed enjoy passing the time in that way, and Johnson led him to an extensive gallery in the main entrance.
As they walked through the gallery, pausing to examine several rare portraits by Romney and Gainsborough, Johnson launched upon a brief history of the House of Stane. The late Earl had been a cautious and studious person, interested principally in Hittite excavations and translations, and had expended a great deal of money, for which historians, so it was said, were duly grateful. Young Stane, rather more than less alienated by his father’s antiquarian interests, had turned to society and finance for diversion and development. He was very popular, a distinguished fashion figure as well as financier. And in season this house was the scene of many social functions. His country seat in Tregasal was one of the show places of England. There was also a charming summer cottage at Pryor’s Cove, near Marlowe on the Thames, and a wine farm in France.
