Yet with all Mr. Vermont's charm of manner, he could resent, smiling
still, an impertinence or a snub, and deal back a tongue thrust that
would effectually put his opponent hors de combat. Truly of him might be
quoted, "I smile, and murder while I smile."
To-night he was apparently enjoying the gay scene before him. His sharp
black eyes were like little snakes, darting here, there, and everywhere,
while he wagged his smooth head to the time of the music, as if in keen
enjoyment.
Mortimer Shelton noticed him; "gloating over his future victims," he
commented, almost audibly, as he and his partner passed close to where
he was standing. Vermont, however, apparently did not hear him, but
continued to smile, amiably as the dancers whirled by.
It was nearly daybreak when the carriages drew up outside the great
house to take the guests to their respective homes; and, having
successfully steered a young marchioness into her electric brougham,
Leroy found himself standing close to Vermont, not far from where his
own motor awaited him.
"They call this pleasure, Jasper," he said, almost scornfully, watching
the struggling, aristocratic crowd with a half-contemptuous smile on his
lips. "Why, it's hard work. They fight and push for the sake of a few
hours spent in a crowded, poisoned room; and there's no prophet to rise
up and proclaim it madness."
"No," laughed Vermont cynically; "prophets nowadays have no liking for
being stoned; and, after all, life would be unendurable, were it not for
its pleasures. Let me remind you that it is nearly four o'clock, and you
are due at Lord Standon's rooms."
With a sigh Leroy turned and jumped into the motor, followed by his
faithful squire; and the powerful car hooted its way through the
twilight of the dawn.
They reached Lord Standon's chambers, to find the finish of a theatre
party. The room was filled with beautiful women, mostly stars of the
musical comedy stage, including Ada Lester, who was evidently on her
best behaviour.
Here, amidst light and laughter, the goddess of pleasure was being feted
by her youthful worshippers, and none appeared a more eager votary than
Adrien Leroy. Yet, as he stood, champagne glass in hand, propounding the
toast of the evening--or rather morning, for the dawn was breaking in
the sky--there was none to tell him of the impending cloud of treachery
that hung over his head. None who dare warn him to beware of the
friendship of--Mr. Jasper Vermont.