Alias the Lone Wolf Part 19

"Never in my life!"

"How then?"

"As anybody's wife." Perplexity knitted a little pucker in her delicately lined brows.

"Paul! you couldn't speak French so well and be an Englishman!"

"I a.s.sure you, Athenais, I am--mentally--a native of France."

She sighed luxuriously. "What an amusing prospect! And this is the sort of man at whose commands I am required to place myself."

"Not required, Athenais, requested--begged, besought!"

"I like that better. And," she enquired demurely, "may one ask what are monsieur's commands?"

"First: you will continue to flirt with me as at present--outrageously."

"Even when you make it so difficult?"

"And then, to waste an evening in my society."

"Must it be wasted?"

"That will be as it falls out."

"And what do we do with this evening of such questionable value?"

"We finish dinner here at our leisure; we smoke and chat a while in the lounge, if you like, or if nothing better offers we go to a play; and then you will take me by the hand, if you please, mademoiselle..."

"In the maternal manner appropriate to mature charms, I presume?"

"Precisely."

"What then?"

"You will--always remembering that my interest in such things is merely academic--you will then lead me hither and yon, as your whim lists, and show me how Paris amuses itself in these days of its nocturnal decadence. You will dutifully pretend to drink much more champagne than is good for you and to be enjoying yourself as you seldom have before.

If I discover an interest in people I may chance to see, you will be good enough to tell me who they are and--other details concerning their ways of life."

"If I know."

"But I am sure you know everyone worth knowing in Paris, Athenais."

"Then--if I am right in a.s.suming you are looking for some person in particular--"

"You have reason, mademoiselle."

"I run the risk of losing an entertaining evening."

"Not necessarily. Besides, there are many evenings. Are you not at my commands for the duration of my stay in Paris?"

"True. So I will have to chance my perilous question.... I presume one can't help being true to the traditions of one's s.e.x."

"Inquisitive, you mean? But what else is every thinking creature, male or female? What are men of science? What--?"

"But it was Eve who first--"

"Ah! raking up old scandal, eh? But I'll wager something it was really Adam who--taking a purely scientific interest in the business--egged Eve on to try a bite of apple, a.s.serting that the domestic menu lacked variety, telling himself if she died of it, it would only cost him another rib to replace her, and cheap at the price."

"Paul: you are too gallant. Wait till I try to find out something about you, directly or indirectly, and see what you will then have to say about the curiosity of women."

"But I shouldn't mind, it would be too flattering. So dig away."

"I will. Who is it you're looking for in Paris after midnight?"

"Anyone of several people." "Perhaps I know them. It might save time if you would give me their names."

"Now it is you who ask me to risk losing an enjoyable evening. But so be it. Le Comte de Lorgnes?"

Mademoiselle Reneaux looked blank.

"Madame la Comtesse de Lorgnes?"

The young woman shook her head.

"Both of a cla.s.s sure to be conspicuous in such places as Maxim's,"

Lanyard explained. "The names, then, are probably fict.i.tious."

"If you could describe them, perhaps--?"

"Useless, I am afraid; neither is an uncommon type. Any word picture of either would probably fit anyone of a score of people of the same life.

Are you then acquainted with a man named Phinuit--given name unknown--an American?"

"No."

"Mr. Whitaker Monk, of New York?"

"The millionaire?"

"That is quite possible."

"He made his money in munitions, I believe," the girl reflected--"or perhaps it was oil."

"Then you do know him?"

"I met him one night, or rather one morning several weeks ago, with a gay party that joined ours at breakfast at Pre-Catelan."

"And do we still drive out to Pre-Catelan to milk the cows after an adventurous night, mademoiselle?" She nodded; and Lanyard sighed: "It is true, then: man ages, his follies never."