Oh, my dear, you must do no such thing! cried her mother, horrified. It was extremely kind of monsieur to give us the hint. He has probably seen how unconventional you are, Dorise.
And then, as they strolled on into the farther room, the conversation dropped.
So theyve heard about Mademoiselle, it seems! remarked Brock to his friend as they walked back to the Palmiers together in the moonlight after having seen Lady Ranscomb and her daughter to their hotel.
Yes, growled the other. I wish we could get hold of that Monsieur Courtin. He might tell us a bit about her.
I doubt if he would. These French officials are always close as oysters.
At any rate, I will try and make his acquaintance at the Metropole to-morrow, Hugh said. Theres no harm in trying.
Next morning he called again at the Metropole before the ladies were about, but to his chagrin, he learnt from the blue-and-gold concierge that Monsieur Courtin, of the Ministry of Justice, had left at ten-fifteen oclock on the previous night by the rapide for Paris. He had been recalled urgently, and a special coupe-lit had been reserved for him from Ventimiglia.
That day Hugh Henfrey wandered about the well-kept palm-lined gardens with their great beds of geraniums, carnations and roses. Brock had accepted the invitation of a bald-headed London stock-broker he knew to motor over to lunch and tennis at the Beau Site, at Cannes, while Dorise and her mother had gone with some people to lunch at the Reserve at Beaulieu, one of the best and yet least pretentious restaurants in all Europe, only equalled perhaps by Capsas, in Bucharest.
Ah! If she would only tell! Hugh muttered fiercely to himself as he walked alone and self-absorbed. His footsteps led him out of Monte Carlo and up the winding road which runs to La Turbie, above the beautiful bay. Ever and anon powerful cars climbing the hill smothered him in white dust, yet he heeded them not. He was too full of thought.
Ah! he kept on repeating to himself. If she would only tell the truthif she would only tell!
Hugh Henfrey had not travelled to Monte Carlo without much careful reflection and many hours of wakefulness. He intended to clear up the mystery of his fathers deathand more, the reason of that strange incomprehensible will which was intended to wed him to Louise.
At four oclock that afternoon he entered the Rooms to gain another surreptitious look at Mademoiselle. Yes! She was there, still playing on as imperturbably as ever, with that half-suppressed sinister smile always upon her full red lips.
Sight of her aroused his fury. Was that smile really intended for himself? People said she was a sphinx, but he drew his breath, and when outside the Casino again in the warm sunshine he halted upon the broad red-carpeted steps and beneath his breath said in a hard, determined tone:
Gad! She shall tell me! She shall! Ill compel her to speakto tell me the truthoror!
That evening he wrote a note to Dorise explaining to her that he was not feeling very well and excusing himself from going round to the hotel. This he sent by hand to the Metropole.
Brock did not turn up at dinner. Indeed, he did not expect his friend back till late. So he ate his meal alone, and then went out to the Cafe de Paris, where for an hour he sat upon the terrasse smoking and listening to the weird music of the red-coated orchestra of Roumanian gipsies.
All the evening, indeed, he idled, chatting with men and women he knew. Carmen was being given at the Opera opposite, but though he loved music he had no heart to go. The one thought obsessing him was of the handsome and fascinating woman who was such a mystery to all.
At eleven oclock he returned to the cafe and took a seat on the terrasse in a dark corner, in such a position that he could see anyone who entered or left the Casino. For half an hour he watched the people passing to and fro. At last, in a long jade-green coat, Mademoiselle emerged alone, and, crossing the gardens, made her way leisurely home on foot, as was her habit. Monte Carlo is not a large place, therefore there is little use for taxis.
When she was out of sight, he called the waiter to bring him a liqueur of old cognac, which he sipped, and then lit another cigarette. When he had finished it he drained the little glass, and rising, strolled in the direction the woman of mystery had taken.
A walk of ten minutes brought him to the iron gates of a great white villa, over the high walls of which climbing roses and geraniums and jasmine ran riot. The night air was heavy with their perfume. He opened the side gate and walked up the gravelled drive to the terrace whereon stood the house, commanding a wonderful view of the moon-lit Mediterranean and the far-off mountains of Italy.
His ring at the door was answered by a staid elderly Italian manservant.
I believe Mademoiselle is at home, Hugh said in French. I desire to see her, and also to apologize for the lateness of the hour. My visit is one of urgency.
Mademoiselle sees nobody except by appointment, was the mans polite but firm reply.
I think she will see me if you give her this card, answered Hugh in a strained, unusual voice.
The man took it hesitatingly, glanced at it, placed it upon a silver salver, and, leaving the visitor standing on the mat, passed through the glass swing-doors into the house.
For some moments the servant did not reappear.
Hugh, standing there, entertained just a faint suspicion that he heard a womans shrill exclamation of surprise. And that sound emboldened him.
At last, after an age it seemed, the man returned, saying:
Mademoiselle will see you, Monsieur. Please come this way.
He left his hat and stick and followed the man along a corridor richly carpeted in red to a door on the opposite side of the house, which the servant threw open and announced the visitor.
Mademoiselle had risen to receive him. Her countenance was, Hugh saw, blanched almost to the lips. Her black dress caused her pallor to be more apparent.
Well, sir? Pray what do you mean by resorting to this ruse in order to see me? Who are you? she demanded.
Hugh was silent for a moment. Then in a hard voice he said:
I am the son of the dead man whose card is in your hands, Mademoiselle! And I am here to ask you a few questions!
The handsome woman smiled sarcastically and shrugged her half-bare shoulders, her fingers trembling with her jade beads.
Oh! Your father is deadis he? she asked with an air of indifference.
Yes. He is dead, Hugh said meaningly, as he glanced around the luxurious little room with its soft rose-shaded lights and pale-blue and gold decorations. On her right as she stood were long French windows which opened on to a balcony. One of the windows stood ajar, and it was apparent that when he had called she had been seated in the long wicker chair outside enjoying the balmy moonlight after the stifling atmosphere of the Rooms.
And, Mademoiselle, he went on, I happen to be aware that you knew my father, andthat you are cognizant of certain facts concerning his mysterious end.
I! she cried, raising her voice in sudden indignation. What on earth do you mean? She spoke in perfect English, though he had hitherto spoken in French.
I mean, Mademoiselle, that I intend to know the truth, said Hugh, fixing his eyes determinedly upon hers. I am here to learn it from your lips.
You must be mad! cried the woman. I know nothing of the affair. You are mistaken!
Do you, then, deny that you have ever met a man named Charles Benton? demanded the young fellow, raising his voice. Perhaps, however, that is a bitter memory, Mademoiselleeh?
The strikingly handsome woman pursed her lips. There was a strange look in her eyes. For several moments she did not speak. It was clear that the sudden appearance of the dead mans son had utterly unnerved her. What could he know concerning Charles Benton? How much of the affair did he suspect?
I have met many people, Mr.erMr. Henfrey, she replied quietly at last. I may have met somebody named Benton.
Ah! I see, the young man said. It is a memory that you do not wish to recall any more than that of my dead father.
Your father was a good man. Benton was not.
Ah! Then you admit knowing both of them, Mademoiselle, cried Hugh quickly.
Yes. IwellI may as well admit it! Why, indeed, should I seek to hide the truthfrom you, she said in a changed voice. Pardon me. I was very upset at receiving the card. Pardon mewill you not?
I will not, unless you tell me the truth concerning my fathers death and his iniquitous will left concerning myself. I am here to ascertain that, Mademoiselle, he said in a hard voice.
And if I tell youwhat then? she asked with knit brows.
If you tell me, then I am prepared to promise you on oath secrecy concerning yourselfprovided you allow me to punish those who are responsible. Remember, my father died by foul means. And you know it!
The woman faced him boldly, but she was very pale.
So that is a promise? she asked. You will protect meyou will be silent regarding meyou swear to be soifif I tell you something. I repeat that your father was a good man. I held him in the highest esteem, andandafter allit is but right that you, his son, should know the truth.
Thank you Mademoiselle. I will protect you if you will only reveal to me the devilish plot which resulted in his untimely end, Hugh assured her.
Again she knit her brows and reflected for a few moments. Then in a low, intense, unnatural voice she said:
Listen, Mr. Henfrey. I feel that, after all, my conscience would be relieved if I revealed to you the truth. Firstwell, it is no use denying the fact that your father was not exactly the man you and his friends believed him to be. He led a strange dual existence, and I will disclose to you one or two facts concerning his untimely end which will show you how cleverly devised and how cunning was the plothow
At that instant Hugh was startled by a bright flash outside the half-open window, a loud report, followed by a womans shrill shriek of pain.
Then, next moment, ere he could rush forward to save her, Mademoiselle, with the truth upon her lips unuttered, staggered and fell back heavily upon the carpet!
THIRD CHAPTER
IN THE NIGHT
Hugh Henfrey, startled by the sudden shot, shouted for assistance, and then threw himself upon his knees beside the prostrate woman.
From a bullet wound over the right ear blood was slowly oozing and trickling over her white cheek.
Help! Help! he shouted loudly. Mademoiselle has been shot from outside! Help!
In a few seconds the elderly manservant burst into the room in a state of intense excitement.
Quick! cried Hugh. Telephone for a doctor at once. I fear your mistress is dying!
Henfrey had placed his hand upon Mademoiselles heart, but could detect no movement. While the servant dashed to the telephone, he listened for her breathing, but could hear nothing. From the wall he tore down a small circular mirror and held it against her mouth. There was no clouding.
There was every apparent sign that the small blue wound had proved fatal.
Inform the police also! Hugh shouted to the elderly Italian who was at the telephone in the adjoining room. The murderer must be found!
By this time four female servants had entered the room where their mistress was lying huddled and motionless. All of them were in deshabille. Then all became excitement and confusion. Hugh left them to unloosen her clothing and hastened out upon the veranda whereon the assassin must have stood when firing the shot.
Outside in the brilliant Riviera moonlight the scent of a wealth of flowers greeted his nostrils. It was almost bright as day. From the veranda spread a wide, fairy-like view of the many lights of Monte Carlo and La Condamine, with the sea beyond shimmering in the moonlight.
The veranda, he saw, led by several steps down into the beautiful garden, while beyond, a distance of a hundred yards, was the main gate leading to the roadway. The assassin, after taking careful aim and firing, had, no doubt, slipped along, and out of the gate.
But why had Mademoiselle been shot just at the moment when she was about to reveal the secret of his lamented fathers death?
He descended to the garden, where he examined the bushes which cast their dark shadows. But all was silence. The assassin had escaped!
Then he hurried out into the road, but again all was silence. The only hope of discovering the identity of the criminal was by means of the police vigilance. Truth to tell, however, the police of Monte Carlo are never over anxious to arrest a criminal, because Monte Carlo attracts the higher criminal class of both sexes from all over Europe. If the police of the Principality were constantly making arrests it would be bad advertisement for the Rooms. Hence, though the Monte Carlo police are extremely vigilant and an expert body of officers, they prefer to watch and to give information to the bureaux of police of other countries, so that arrests invariably take place beyond the frontiers of the Principality of Monaco.
It was not long before Doctor Leneveu, a short, stout, bald-headed little man, well known to habitues of the Rooms, among whom he had a large practice, entered the house of Mademoiselle and was greeted by Hugh. The latter briefly explained the tragic circumstances, whereupon the little doctor at once became fussy and excited.
Having ordered everyone out of the room except Henfrey, he bent and made an examination of the prostrate woman.
Ah! msieur, he said, the unfortunate lady has certainly been shot at close quarters. The wound is, I tell you at once, extremely dangerous, he added, after a searching investigation. But she is still alive, he declared. Yesshe is still breathing.
Still alive! gasped Henfrey. Thats excellent! II feared that she was dead!
No. She still breathes, the doctor replied. But, tell me exactly what has occurred. First, however, we will get them to remove her upstairs. I will telephone to my colleague Duponteil, and we will endeavour to extract the bullet.
But will she recover, doctor? asked Hugh eagerly in French. What do you think?
The little man became serious and shook his head gravely.
Ah! msieur, that I cannot say, was his reply. She is in a very grave statevery! And the brain may be affected.
Hugh held his breath. Surely Yvonne Ferad was not to die with the secret upon her lips!
At the doctors orders the servants were about to remove their mistress to her room when two well-dressed men of official aspect entered. They were officers of the Bureau of Police.
Stop! cried the elder, who was the one in authority, a tall, lantern-jawed man with a dark brown beard and yellow teeth. Do not touch that lady! What has happened here?