"Mr. Errington was with them also," she added.
"He usually is," commented Miss Lermontof disagreeably.
"He's a remarkably fine pianist," said Diana. "Do you know him
personally at all?"
"I've met him," replied Olga. Her green eyes narrowed suddenly, and she
regarded Diana with a rather curious expression on her face.
"Is he a professional pianist?" pursued Diana. She was conscious of an
intense curiosity concerning Errington, quite apart from the personal
episodes which had linked them together. The man of mystery invariably
exerts a peculiar fascination over the feminine mind. Hence the
unmerited popularity not infrequently enjoyed by the dark, saturnine,
brooding individual whose conversation savours of the tensely
monosyllabic.
Olga Lermontof paused a moment before replying to Diana's query. The she
said briefly:--
"No. He's a dramatist. I shouldn't allow myself to become too
interested in him if I were you."
She smiled a trifle grimly at Diana's sudden flush, and her manner
indicated that, as far as she was concerned, the subject was closed.
Diana felt an inward conviction that Miss Lermontof knew much more
concerning Max Errington than she chose to admit, and when she fell
asleep that night it was to dream that she and Errington were trying to
find each other through the gloom of a thick fog, whilst all the time the
dark-browed, sinister face of Olga Lermontof kept appearing and
disappearing between them, smiling tauntingly at their efforts.
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