in dining at the club, was to hear what the world said of the
Countess Narona.





CHAPTER III


There was a time when a man in search of the pleasures of gossip
sought the society of ladies. The man knows better now.
He goes to the smoking-room of his club.

Doctor Wybrow lit his cigar, and looked round him at his brethren
in social conclave assembled. The room was well filled;
but the flow of talk was still languid. The Doctor innocently
applied the stimulant that was wanted. When he inquired if
anybody knew the Countess Narona, he was answered by something
like a shout of astonishment. Never (the conclave agreed)
had such an absurd question been asked before! Every human creature,
with the slightest claim to a place in society, knew the Countess Narona.
An adventuress with a European reputation of the blackest possible colour--
such was the general description of the woman with the deathlike
complexion and the glittering eyes.

Descending to particulars, each member of the club contributed
his own little stock of scandal to the memoirs of the Countess.
It was doubtful whether she was really, what she called herself,
a Dalmatian lady. It was doubtful whether she had ever