"Is there a new cruiser being commissioned at ----?" inquired John, sliding into the conversation. He was so apparently interested that Lady Rachel looked at him with a pleased expression on her somewhat foolish face.
"I am afraid, Mr. Treves, I ought not to chatter about it. But being behind the scenes, and knowing so many people one naturally picks up little bits of news here and there. It is quite easy to piece the bits together. I have not heard anything actually about the new cruiser," she said, "the _Malta_, I mean, but from things Commander Loyson said to Derrick, and from other things I have heard, I can assure you it is something wonderful."
John, listening to her chatter, wondered how much of this information she had, out of sheer vanity, passed on to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth.
Lady Rachel Marvin certainly knew a great number of people, and her social position gave her many chances to pick up exclusive information. Her silly, butterfly existence consisted in flitting from one drawing-room to another. Here she exchanged such gossip as she had been able to collect from her equally frivolous friends. As John listened to her he realised that such women as Lady Rachel are a real source of danger to the nation.
When dinner was at an end Lady Rachel went to speak to some friends at another table, and the minute she had gone Mrs. Beecher Monmouth turned her attention solely to John, ignoring Mrs. Pomfret Bond and the "Ogre."
"Naughty boy," said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth under her breath. "Why have you never been to see me?"
"I have been in the Isle of Wight visiting my father," answered John promptly.
"I know that," answered she; "therefore, and because you sent me those Russian cigarettes, I intend to forgive you! Now, you must come and see me soon," she went on, "there are many things I want to talk to you about."
"I should like to talk to you about quite a number of things," responded John in the same intimate tone.
"Not to-morrow, the 'Ogre' will be at home then," she said, in a voice too low for Mr. Beecher Monmouth to catch. "Don't you think he is looking very old and worn?"
John glanced at Beecher Monmouth's glazed countenance and tired eyes, and even at that moment the elderly politician was looking adoringly at his wife, admiring the richness of her hair, the fine contour of her shoulders, and the brilliance of her complexion. John felt almost sorry for the befooled and weary Member of Parliament, who had sold his old age and his happiness into the bondage of this woman.