Chapter 6  MIRELLE 

Derek Kettering emerged from Van Aldin's suite so precipitantly that he collided with a lady passing across the corridor. He apologised, and she accepted his apologies with a smiling reassurance and passed on, leaving him with a pleasant 

impression of a soothing personality and rather fine grey eyes. For all his nonchalance, his interview with his father-in-law had shaken him more than he cared to show. He had a solitary lunch, and after it, frowning to himself a little, he went round to the sumptuous flat that housed the lady known as Mirelle. A trim Frenchwoman received him with smiles. 

'But enter then, Monsieur. Madame reposes herself.' 

He was ushered into the long room with its eastern setting which he knew so well. Mirelle was lying on the divan, supported by an incredible amount of cushions, all in varying shades of amber, to harmonise with the yellow ochre of her complexion. The dancer was a beautifully made woman, and if her face, beneath its mask of yellow, was in truth somewhat haggard, it had a bizarre charm of its own, and her orange lips smiled invitingly at Derek Kettering. He kissed her, and flung himself into a chair.  

'What have you been doing with yourself? Just got up, I suppose?' 

The orange mouth widened into a long smile. 

'No,' said the dancer. 'I have been at work.' 

She flung out a long, pale hand towards the piano, which was littered with untidy music scores. 

'Ambrose has been here. He has been playing me the new Opera.' 

Kettering nodded without paying much attention. He was 

profoundly uninterested in Claud Ambrose and the latter's operatic setting of Ibsen's Peer Gynt. So was Mirelle, for that matter, regarding it merely as a unique opportunity for her own presentation as Anitra. 

'It is a marvellous dance,' she murmured. 'I shall put all the passion of the desert into it. I shall dance hung over with jewels - ah! and, by the way, mon ami, there is a pearl that I saw yesterday in Bond Street - a black pearl.' 

She paused, looking at him invitingly. 

'My dear girl,' said Kettering, 'it's no use talking of black pearls to me. At the present minute, as far as I am concerned, the fat is in the fire.' 

She was quick to respond to his tone. She sat up, her big black eyes widening. 

'What did you say, Dereek? What has happened?' 

"My esteemed father-in-law," said Kettering, "is preparing to go off the deep-end." 

"Eh?" 

"In other words, he wants Ruth to divorce me." 

"How stupid!" said Mirelle. "Why should she want to divorce you?" 

Derek Kettering grinned. 

"Mainly because of you, cherie!" he said. 

Mirelle shrugged her shoulders. 

"That is foolish," she observed in a matter-of-fact voice. 

"Very foolish," agreed Derek. 

"What are you going to do about it?" demanded Mirelle. 

"My dear girl, what can I do? On the one side, the man with unlimited money; on the other side, the man with unlimited debts. There is no question as to who will come out on top." 

"They are extraordinary, these Americans," commented Mirelle. 

"It is not as though your wife were fond of you." 

"Well," said Derek, "what are we going to do about it?" 

She looked at him inquiringly. He came over and took both her hands in his. 

"Are you going to stick to me?" 

"What do you mean? After -" 

"Yes," said Kettering. "After, when the creditors come down like wolves on the fold. I am damned fond of you, Mirelle; are you going to let me down?" 

She pulled her hands away from him. 

"You know I adore you, Dereek." 

He caught the note of evasion in her voice. 

"So that's that, is it? The rats will leave the sinking ship." 

"Ah, Dereek!" 

"Out with it," he said violently. "You will fling me over; is that it?" 

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"I am fond of you, mon ami - indeed I am fond of you. You are very charming - un beau gar?on, but ce n'est pas pratique." 

"You are a rich man's luxury, eh? Is that it?" 

"If you like to put it that way." 

She leaned back on the cushions, her head flung back. 

"All the same, I am fond of you, Dereek." 

He went over to the window and stood there some time looking out, with his back to her. Presently the dancer raised herself on her elbow and stared at him curiously. 

"What are you thinking of, mon ami?" 

He grinned at her over his shoulder, a curious grin that made her vaguely uneasy. 

"As it happened, I was thinking of a woman, my dear." 

"A woman, eh?" 

Mirelle pounced on something that she could understand. 

"You are thinking of some other woman, is that it?" 

"Oh, you needn't worry, it is purely a fancy portrait. 'Portrait of a lady with grey eyes.'" 

Mirelle said sharply, "When did you meet her?" 

Derek Kettering laughed, and his laughter had a mocking, ironical sound. 

"I ran into the lady in the corridor of the Savoy Hotel." 

"Well! what did she say?" 

"As far as I can remember, I said, 'I beg your pardon,' and she said, 'It doesn't matter,' or words to that effect." 

"And then?" persisted the dancer. 

Kettering shrugged his shoulders. 

"And then - nothing. That was the end of the incident." 

"I don't understand a word of what you are talking about," declared the dancer. 

"Portrait of a lady with grey eyes," murmured Derek reflectively. 

"Just as well I am never likely to meet her again." 

"Why?" 

"She might bring me bad luck. Women do." 

Mirelle slipped quickly from her couch, and came across to him, laying one long, snake-like arm round his neck. 

"You are foolish, Dereek," she murmured. "You are very foolish. You are beau gar?on, and I adore you, but I am not made to be poor - no, decidedly I am not made to be poor. Now listen to me; everything is very simple. You must make it up with your wife." 

"I am afraid that's not going to be actually in the sphere of practical politics," said Derek drily. 

"How do you say? I do not understand." 

"Van Aldin, my dear, is not taking any. He is the kind of man who makes up his mind and sticks to it." 

"I have heard of him," nodded the dancer. "He is very rich, is he not? Almost the richest man in America. A few days ago, in Paris, he bought the most wonderful ruby in the world - 'Heart of Fire' it is called." 

Kettering did not answer. The dancer went on musingly: 

"It is a wonderful stone - a stone that should belong to a woman like me. I love jewels, Dereek, they say something to me. Ah! to wear a ruby like 'Heart of Fire.'" 

She gave a little sigh, and then became practical once more. 

"You don't understand these things, Dereek, you are only a man. Van Aldin will give these rubies to his daughter, I suppose. Is she his only child?" 

"Yes." 

"Then when he dies, she will inherit all his money. She will be a rich woman." 

"She is a rich woman already," said Kettering drily. "He settled a couple of millions on her at her marriage." 

"A couple of millions! But that is immense. And if she died suddenly, eh? That would all come to you?" 

"As things stand at present," said Kettering slowly, "it would. As far as I know she has not made a will." 

"Mon Dieu!" said the dancer. "If she were to die, what a solution that would be." 

There was a moment's pause, and then Derek Kettering laughed outright. 

"I like your simple, practical mind, Mirelle, but I am afraid what you desire won't come to pass. My wife is an extremely healthy person." 

"Eh, bien!" said Mirelle, "there are accidents." 

He looked at her sharply but did not answer. 

She went on. 

"But you are right, mon ami, we must not dwell on possibilities. See now, my little Dereek, there must be no more talk of this divorce. Your wife must give up the idea." 

"And if she won't?" 

The dancer's eyes widened to slits. 

"I think she will, my friend. She is one of those who would not like the publicity. There are one or two pretty stories that she would not like her friends to read in the newspapers." 

"What do you mean?" asked Kettering sharply. 

Mirelle laughed, her head thrown back. 

"Parbleu! I mean the gentleman who calls himself the Comte de la Roche. I know all about him. I am Parisienne, you remember. He was her lover before she married you, was he not?" 

Kettering took her sharply by the shoulders. 

"That is a damned lie," he said, "and please remember that, after all, you are speaking of my wife." 

Mirelle was a little sobered. 

"You are extraordinary, you English," she complained. "All the same, I dare say that you may be right. The Americans are so cold, are they not? But you will permit me to say, mon ami, that she was in love with him before she married you, and her father stepped in and sent the Comte about his business. And the little Mademoiselle, she wept many tears! But she obeyed. Still, you must know as well as I do, Dereek, that it is a very different story now. She sees him nearly every day, and on the fourteenth she goes to Paris to meet him." 

"How do you know all this?" demanded Kettering. 

"Me? I have friends in Paris, my dear Dereek, who know the Comte intimately. It is all arranged. She is going to the Riviera, so she says, but in reality the Comte meets her in Paris and - who knows! 

Yes, yes, you can take my word for it, it is all arranged." 

Derek Kettering stood motionless. 

"You see," purred the dancer, "if you are clever, you have her in the hollow of your hand. You can make things very awkward for her." 

"Oh, for God's sake be quiet," cried Kettering. "Shut your cursed mouth!" 

Mirelle flung herself down again on the divan with a laugh. Kettering caught up his hat and coat and left the flat, banging the door violently. And still the dancer sat on the divan and laughed softly to herself. She was not displeased with her work. 

第六章 米蕾

    德里克·凯特林从冯·阿尔丁的住宅里跑出来之后，在走廊里遇到了一位女士。他俩撞了一个满怀，女士说了一声“抱歉”，甜蜜地莞尔一笑。一对美丽的盈盈的大眼睛给他留下了很深刻的印象。

    他同岳父谈话后，表面上很安静，内心却很矛盾。吃过午饭，他来到一所豪华的住宅，女主人是舞女米蕾。一个衣着整洁的俏皮的法国侍女笑容满面地接待了他。

    “您请进好了，先生！女士只休息一会儿。”

    侍女把他引到一个有着东方陈设的房间里，这里的一切他都很熟悉。米蕾躺在沙发上，周围塞满了很多枕头，枕头都嵌着各种五颜六色的琥珀，同她那赭石色的皮肤十分相称。

    舞女长得非常娇媚动人，尽管黄色的面罩使她的脸孔显得有些细长，却有一种迷人的诱惑力。

    凯特林吻了她一下，坐在椅子上。

    “你刚刚起床，宝贝？”

    她那桔红色的嘴唇现出一丝微笑。

    “不，”舞女回答道，“我在工作呢。”

    她把长长的胳膊伸向一架钢琴，钢琴上杂乱无章地堆着很多乐谱。

    “阿姆布罗泽在这儿呆过了。他弹了弹新歌剧的曲子”。凯特林点了一下头，不十分感兴趣。

    哥劳德·阿姆布罗泽及其舞剧《贵族琼特》对他来说倒无所谓。而米蕾对此的兴趣也只限于她演这个剧的主角安妮。

    “舞蹈太美了。”她自言自语地说，“我将倾注全部的精力跳这个舞。我要是跳好这个舞，就能得到很多宝石。我的朋友！我昨天在奔德大街看到一颗珍珠，颜色是黑色的，真是迷人透了。”

    她很逗人喜爱地看着他，停住了嘴。

    “好宝贝，”凯特林说，“同我谈什么黑色的珍珠，完全没有意义。我的钱库已是空空如也了。”

    她坐了起来，用一双黑黑的大眼睛看着他。

    “发生了什么事，德里克？发生了什么事？”

    “我那尊敬的岳父大人下了狠心，要掐断我的生活来源！”

    “你说些什么呀。”

    “换句话说，我那忠诚的老婆要同我离婚。”

    “多傻，”米蕾说，“为什么会这样？”

    德里克讥笑地说道：“多半是为了你，我的心肝儿。”

    米蕾耸了一下肩膀。

    “她真是太蠢了！”

    “实际上也的确太傻。”德里克压低了声音说。

    “你准备怎么对付这件事呢？”

    “我能说什么呢？我的心上人儿？一方是占有万贯家财的他、冯·阿尔丁；另一方面是债台高筑的我；因此也就不必问强大的一方是谁了。”

    “这些美国人真不可靠。”米蕾说，“要是这个女人能够听你的就好了。”

    “看来，”德里克说，“我们毕竟得采取点措施。可是什么措施呢？”

    她满腹疑团地看着他。他凑近她，抓住她的双手。

    “如果那些债主象一群恶狼一样向我扑来，你不会离开我吧？我爱你爱的要命，你不会离开我吧？”

    她把手从他的手中抽出。

    “你知道，德里克，我对你的感情有多么强烈。”

    从说话的声音就可以听出她是在撒谎。

    “事情就是这样，”德里克慢悠悠地说，“老鼠就要离开沉没的船了。”

    “你怎么能这样想呢？德里克。”

    “少来这一套！”他愤怒地说。“你要抛弃我，对吗？”

    她耸了一下肩。

    “我对你很感兴趣，我的朋友……，差不多可以说，我是爱你的！你的确很迷人，可爱的小伙子，但不切实际。”

    “你是不是想说：你是男子的受用之物，是他们的玩物。对吗？”

    “天啊！假如你硬要这样说的话！”她又靠在枕头上，把头向后一仰。

    “我发誓，我是爱你的。”

    “算了吧！”他走到窗前望着外边，背朝着这个舞女。米蕾马上站了起来，看着他，投以不理解的目光。

    “你在想什么？我的朋友。”

    他越过她的肩膀凝视着远方，撇嘴一笑，使她觉得很不舒服。

    “说真的。我正在想另一个女人，亲爱的。“

    “想另一个女人！你在想另一个女人？”

    “不要激动，我的脑海里出现了一位长着蓝眼睛的女人的肖像。”

    米蕾严厉地问道：“你是什么时候遇到她的？”

    德里克·凯特林嘲弄地一笑。

    “我在萨沃旅馆的楼梯上和她打了个对面。”

    “怎么，她同你说过什么吗？”

    “根据我的记忆，我说：‘对不起’，她说：‘没什么’。就是这些。”

    “然后呢？”舞女步步紧逼地问道。

    “然后就什么也没有了，谈话结束了。”

    “我对你所的一切，感到莫明其妙。”米蕾说道。

    “一位长着蓝眼睛的女人的肖像，”德里克深思着说道，“但愿今后不要再和她相遇。”

    “为什么？”

    “她会给我带来不幸，女人给我带来的总是不幸。”

    米蕾从沙发上跳起来，用长长的手臂搂住他的脖子。

    “你是头驴，德里克！”她喃喃地说，“你是头大蠢驴。你是个漂亮的小伙子，我非常爱你。但是，我不想使自己变得两手空空，真的。现在你听我的，事情很简单，你应该同你老婆和好。”

    “和好，但是事实上行不通。”德里克无可奈何地说道。

    “为什么？”

    “因为同冯·阿尔丁是开不得玩笑的，一旦他拿定了主意，你就别想阻止他。”

    “我听说过他，”舞女点头说道。“他是美国最大的富翁之一，对吗？前几天他在巴黎买了一颗世界上最好的宝石，‘火心宝石’。”

    凯特林不回答。舞女继续说道：“绝妙的好宝石，它应该属于象我这样的人，为了宝石我是不惜生命的。除了我以外，谁还能配戴这样的宝石呢！”

    她叹了一口气，较为实际地说着。

    “你不懂这些事，德里克，你是个男人。冯·阿尔丁很可能把这块宝石给了他女儿。

他就这么一个宝贝女儿嘛。”

    “嗯。”

    “如果冯·阿尔丁死了，她就会成为一个非常富有的女人。”

    “她现在就很有钱。结婚的时候他爸爸给了她几百万美元。”

    “几百万？数目真是可观。如果有朝一日她突然死去，你不就可以继承这笔财产了吗？”

    “如果目前这种情况继续下去，当然由我继承。”凯特林慢悠悠地说道。“据我所知，她还没有立遗嘱。”

    “我的上帝！”舞女说道，“这是一个多么好的解脱机会啊！”

    一阵沉寂降临在他们之间，凯特林大笑起来。

    “你真是个比较实际的人。但是我担心你的愿望难到实现。我老婆身体很好，非常健康。”

    “那好啊，”米蕾说，“可是她总会遇到意外事故。”

    他死盯着她一句话也不说。她继续说道：“你是对的，人们不应该想这些不切实际的事情。但是，我的孩子，你不能离婚。你的老婆应该放弃这种想法。”

    “她要是不放弃呢？”

    舞女睁大了眼睛。

    “她会的。她那种女人特别害怕把事情弄得满城风雨，有一两件事她肯定不愿意让她的熟人在报纸上看到。”

    “你指的是什么？”凯特林严肃地问道。米蕾仰面大笑起来。

    “我亲爱的！我说的是罗歇伯爵。我很了解这个人。请你不要忘记，我是个巴黎人。

她结婚之前，那人可是她的情人。”

    凯特林气愤地抓住了她的双肩。

    “你完全是无耻的捏造！你不要忘记，她毕竟还是我的妻子！”

    米蕾显然有点吃惊。

    “你们英国人都是些怪物。”她抱怨地说。“也可能你是对的。人们都说，美国人天性冷淡，是吗？尽管这样，她还是在同你结婚之前爱上了他。然后她的父亲插了一脚进来。这位可怜的小姐不知流了多少眼泪，但是最终还是屈从了父亲的意志。现在，事情有了一些变化。他们几乎每天碰头，本月十四日她和他在巴黎还有一个约会。”

    “这一切你是从哪里知道的？”

    “我？我在巴黎有些朋友，亲爱的德里克，他们认识这位伯爵。一切都安排好了。

她借口去利维埃拉，但实际上是去巴黎看伯爵，以后……天知道！请你相信我，一点都不会错！”德里克·凯特林呆若木鸡似的站在那里。

    “懂了吗？”米蕾多情地说，“如果你离了婚，那你可以搞点小动作，使她非常狼狈。”

    “怎么能那样搞？住口！”凯特林叫道：“闭上你那该死的嘴！”

    米蕾大笑着坐到了沙发上。凯特林拿起帽子和大衣，砰的一声关上了门。舞女坐在沙发上还在暗自发笑。她对自己的行为感到满意。