Grier's face
clouded; she spoke more of Tarboe, and the gloom deepened. Then, with
the mask of coquetry still upon her she left Carnac's mother abashed,
sorrowful and alone.
Tarboe had called in her absence. Entering the garden, he saw Denzil at
work. At the click of the gate Denzil turned, and came forward.
"She ain't home," he said bluntly. "She's out. She ain't here. She's
up at Mr. Grier's house, bien sur."
To Tarboe Denzil's words were offensive. It was none of Denzil's
business whether he came or went in this house, or what his relations
with Junia were. Democrat though he was, he did not let democracy
transgress his personal associations. He knew that the Frenchman was
less likely to say and do the crude thing than the Britisher.
Tarboe knew of the position held by Denzil in the Shale household; and
that long years of service had given him authority. All this, however,
could not atone for the insolence of Denzil's words, but he had
controlled men too long to act rashly.
"When will Mademoiselle be back?" he asked, putting a hand on himself.
"To-night," answered Denzil, with an antipathetic eye.
"Don't be a damn fool. Tell me the hour when you think she will be at
home. Before dinner--within the next sixty minutes?"
"Ma'm'selle is under no orders. She didn't say when she would be back--
but no!"
"Do you think she'll be back for dinner?" asked Tarboe, smothering his
anger, but get to get his own way.
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