"What?"
"Does Chu-Chu know that Countess Rosalie is a friend of mine?"
She dropped her eyes. "How should I know?" she asked suddenly, and looked as sulky as a lioness that refuses to perform.
I could feel that ugly, venomous, wild-beast anger that I have been told is peculiar to the criminal starting to ferment inside me. There was something going on here that I couldn't get the feel of, and the strangeness and danger of it made me bristle like a dog that smells the scent of a timber wolf for the first time. What was up, anyway? Why should Chu-Chu have come into the basement on a faked errand, then go out, get into Rosalie's taxi and drive off? Why should Victor have announced him and Léontine have sent him about his business? What the deuce was behind it all?—and was Rosalie in danger? That was the main thing. I chucked all thought of my own position at the bare idea. Chu-Chu, Ivan, Léontine—blight 'em all, so far as I was concerned; but where had Chu-Chu gone with Rosalie?
The devils began to dance and I looked across at Léontine through lids that were half shut and things showing red between. She saw what was going on and her eyes began to blaze. We were a nice young pair of savages; and the Lord knows what might have come of it if at that moment the bell had not rung.
"Ivan," said Léontine quietly; and a moment later Victor showed him in.
