The Spanish South American Countess was of a camelia paleness, and had almond-shaped dark eyes with brooding lashes under slender brows that met. In contrast, her hair was of a flame colour vivid as her draperies, and her lips were red. At first glance Annesley thought that the dazzling creature could not be more than thirty; but when the vision had come near enough to offer her hand, without waiting for an introduction, a hardness about the handsome face, a few lines about the eyes and mouth, and a fullness of the chin showed that she was older--forty, perhaps. Still, Annesley hoped that her lover had not asked the lady to "mother" his fiancee. She had not the air of one who would be complimented by such a request. As Annesley put her hand into that of the Countess, she noticed that this hand was as wonderful as the rest of the woman's personality. It was very long, very narrow, with curiously supple-looking fingers exquisitely manicured and wearing many rings. Even the thumb was abnormally long, which fact prevented the hand from being as beautiful as it was, somehow, unforgettable. "This is a pleasure and a surprise," began the Countess, smiling, her eyes appearing to take in the full-length portrait of Annesley Grayle with their wide, unmoving gaze. When she smiled she was still extremely handsome, but not so perfect as with lips closed, for her white teeth were too short, somewhat irregular, and set too wide apart. She spoke English perfectly, with a slight foreign accent and a roll of the letter "r." "My friend--Nelson Smith" (she turned, laughing, to him), "has told me ex-_citing_ news. We have known each other a long time. I think this is the best thing that can happen. And you will be a lucky girl. He, too, will be lucky. I see that!" with another smile. Annesley was disappointed because the beautiful woman's voice was not sweet. "Now you must engage her room," Nelson Smith said, abruptly. "It's late. You can make friends afterward." "Very well," the Countess agreed. "And you--will you come to the desk? Yet, no--it is better not. Miss Grayle and I will go together--two women alone and independent. Lucky it's not the season, or we might find nothing free at short notice. But Don--I mean Nelson--always did have luck. I hope he always will!" She flashed him a meaning look, though what the meaning was Annesley could not guess. She knew only that she did not like the Countess as she had wished to like her lover's friend. There was something secret in the dark eyes, something repellent about the long, slender thumb with its glittering nail. CHAPTER VIII THE BLUE DIAMOND RING