"So I believe," said Random, still stiffly; "but you see I was anxious
to come and see you."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Jasher equably, "you heard that I was ill. Yes; I have
been in bed ever since yesterday afternoon, until a couple of hours
ago. But I am now better. My dinner has done me good. Pass me that fan,
please. The fire is so hot."
Sir Frank did as he was told, and she held the feather fan between her
face and the fire, while he stared at her, wondering what to say.
"Don't you find this atmosphere very stuffy?" he remarked at length. "It
would be a good thing to have the windows open."
Mrs. Jasher shrieked.
"My dear boy, are you mad? I have a touch of the influenza, and an
open window would bring about my death. Why, this room is delightfully
comfortable."
"There is such a strong perfume about it," sniffed Random pointedly.
"I should think you knew that scent by this time, Sir Frank. I use no
other and never have done. Smell!" and she passed a flimsy handkerchief
of lace.
Random took the handkerchief and placed it to his nostrils. As he did so
a strange expression of triumph crept into his eyes.
"I think you told me once that it was a Chinese perfume," he said,
returning the handkerchief.
Mrs. Jasher nodded, well pleased.
"I get it from a friend of my late husband who is in the British Embassy
at Pekin. No one uses it but me."
"But surely some other person uses it?"
"Not in England; and I do not know why you should say so. It is a
specialty of mine. Why," she added playfully, "if you met me in the dark
you should know me, by this scent."
"Can you swear that no one else has ever used this perfume?" asked
Random.
Mrs. Jasher lifted her penciled eyebrows.
"I do not know why you should ask me to swear," she said quietly, "but
I assure you that I keep this perfume which comes from China to myself.
Not even Lucy Kendal has it, although she greatly desired some. We women
are selfish in some things, my dear man. It's a most delicious perfume."
"Yes," said Sir Frank, staring at her, "and very strong."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing. Only I should think that such a perfume would be good for the
cold you contracted by going to London last night."
Mrs. Jasher turned suddenly pale under her rouge, and her hand clenched
the fan so tightly as to break the handle.
"I have not been to London for quite a month," she faltered. "What a
strange remark!"
"A true one," said the baronet, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket.
"You went to London last night by the seven o'clock train to post this,"
and he held out the anonymous letter.