Servants came in to clear the tables, but
the count harshly ordered them to wait until the guests had departed.
"It is the dearest thing I have seen," said Beverly, holding a rare old
candlestick at arm's length and looking at it in as many ways as the
wrist could turn. Her loose sleeves ended just below the elbows. The
count's eyes followed the graceful curves of her white forearm with an
eagerness that was annoying.
"I prize it more dearly than any other piece in my collection," he
said. "It came from Rome; it has a history which I shall try to tell you
some day, and which makes it almost invaluable. A German nobleman
offered me a small fortune if I would part with it."
"And you wouldn't sell it?"
"I was saving it for an occasion, your highness," he said, his steely
eyes glittering. "The glad hour has come when I can part with it for a
recompense far greater than the baron's gold."
"Oh, isn't it lucky you kept it?" she cried. Then she turned her eyes
away quickly, for his gaze seemed greedily endeavoring to pierce through
the lace insertion covering her neck and shoulders. Outside the window
the steady tramp of the tall guard went on monotonously.
"The recompense of a sweet smile, a tender blush and the unguarded
thanks of a pretty woman. The candlestick is yours, Miss Calhoun,--if
you will repay me for my sacrifice by accepting it without reservation.
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