"If he does, it'll be your fault," she snarled. "And I'll tell Adrien
all, and how you're fooling him in other ways as well."
Jasper sprang across the room, his face working with anger. There was
something so deadly in the light of his dark eyes, such murderous hate
in every line of his face, that the woman shrank back and uttered a cry
of fear, instinctively glancing at a knife which lay on the table close
to Jasper's other hand.
How far Vermont's anger might have carried him she did not know, for, to
her intense relief, the door opened and Adrien Leroy himself entered the
room. He gazed in surprise at the two occupants, and in an instant
Jasper had regained his self-control. He did not release Ada's wrist,
but, smoothing his scowl into a sleek smile, he said with a careless
laugh: "No, Ada, your arm is as slim as ever. The bracelet will just fit you."
He relaxed his grip as he spoke and turned to Leroy. "Ada has bet me
that the new bracelet you bought her is too small, Adrien," he explained
glibly. "She thought she was getting stout."
Adrien nodded indifferently; while Ada, with a little cry of relief, ran
towards him.
"Adrien, how good of you to come!" she exclaimed. "I did not expect you
so soon."
Leroy did not seem to notice her, but looked round the room with evident
displeasure. The table, with its remains of supper; the stained cloth;
above all, the undesirable odour of food and stale tobacco; all seemed
to fill him with disgust. Gently, but firmly, he put Ada from him.
"Jasper," he said, turning to Vermont, "you know why I came. Give Miss
Lester the deeds of the Casket Theatre. I am tired and am going home."
With a courteous good-night to Ada, who, without attempting to thank him
for his gift, stood scowling and sullen, he passed out of the room;
while Vermont leaned back against the table with folded arms and his
inevitable, but significant, smile on his face.