Mead, who went on his push-bike every evening along the Hogs Back to Guildford, was never tired of singing the praises of his generous mistress.
Shes a real good sort, he would tell his friends in the bar of the Lion or the Angel. She knows how to treat a man. Shes a widow, and good-looking. I suppose shell marry again. Nearly all the best people about here have called on her within the last week or two. Magistrates and their wives, retired generals, and lots of the gentry. Yes, my job isnt to be sneezed at, I can tell you. Its better than driving a lorry outside Ypres!
Mrs. Bond treated Mead extremely well, and paid him well. She knew that by so doing she would secure a good advertisement. She had done so before, when four or five years ago she had lived at Keswick.
Do you know, Charles, she said presently, Im really very apprehensive regarding the present situation. Yvonne is, no doubt, keeping a watchful eye upon the young fellow. But what can she do if he has followed the Ranscomb girl and is with her each day? Each day, indeed, must bring the pair closer together, and
Thats what we must prevent, my dear Molly! exclaimed the ladys visitor. Think of all it means to us. You are quite safe hereas safe as I am to-day. But we cant last out without moneyeither of us. We must have cash-moneyand cash-money always.
Yes. Thats so. But Yvonne is wonderfulamazing.
She hasnt the same stake in the affair as we have.
Why not? asked the woman for whom the European police were in search.
Well, because she is richshes won pots of money at the tablesand wewell, both of us have only limited means. Yours, Molly, are larger than minethanks to Frank. But I must have money soon. My expenses in town are mounting up daily.
But your rooms dont cost you very much! Old Mrs. Evans looks after things as she has always done.
Yes. But everything is going up in price, and remember, I dare not cross the Channel just now. At Calais, Boulogne, Cherbourg, and other places, they have my photograph, and they are waiting for me to fall into the trap. But the rat, once encaged, is shy! And I am very shy just now, he added with a light laugh.
Youll stay and have dinner, wont you? urged his hostess.
Benton hesitated.
If I do Louise may return, and just now I dont want to meet her. It is better not.
But she wont be back till the last train to Guildford. Mead is meeting her. Yesstay.
I must get a car to take me back to town. I have to go to Glasgow by the early train in the morning.
Well, were order one from one of the garages in Guildford. You really must stay, Charles. Theres lots we have to talk overa lot of things that are of vital consequence to us both.
At that moment there came a rap at the door and the young manservant entered, saying:
Youre wanted on the telephone, maam.
Mrs. Bond rose from the settee and went to the telephone in the library, where she heard the voice of a female telephone operator.
Is that Shapley Manor? she asked. I have a telegram for Mrs. Bond. Handed in at Nice at two twenty-five, received here at four twenty-eight. To Bond, Shapley Manor, near Guildford. Yvonne shot by some unknown person while with Hugh. In grave danger.S. That is the message. Have you got it please?
Mrs. Bond held her breath.
Yes, she gasped. Anything else?
No, madam, replied the telephone operator at the Guildford Post Office. Nothing else. I will forward the duplicate by post.
And she switched off.
SIXTH CHAPTER
FACING THE UNKNOWN
That the police were convinced that Hugh Henfrey had shot Mademoiselle was plain.
Wherever he went an agent of detective police followed him. At the Cafe de Paris as he took his aperitif on the terrasse the man sat at a table near, idly smoking a cigarette and glancing at an illustrated paper on a wooden holder. In the gardens, in the Rooms, in the Galerie, everywhere the same insignificant little man haunted him.
Soon after luncheon he met Dorise and her mother in the Rooms. With them were the Comte dAutun, an elegant young Frenchman, well known at the tables, and Madame Tavera, a very chic person who was one of the most admired visitors of that season. They were only idling and watching the players at the end table, where a stout, bearded Russian was making some sensational coups en plein.
Presently Hugh succeeded in getting Dorise alone.
Its awfully stuffy here, he said. Lets go outsideeh?
Together they descended the red-carpeted steps and out into the palm-lined Place, at that hour thronged by the smartest crowd in Europe. Indeed, the war seemed to have led to increased extravagance and daring in the dress of those gay Parisiennes, those butterflies of fashion who were everywhere along the Cote dAzur.
They turned the corner by the Palais des Beaux Arts into the Boulevard Peirara.
Lets walk out of the town, he suggested to the girl. Im tired of the place.
So am I, Hugh, Dorise admitted. For the first fortnight the unceasing round of gaiety and the novelty of the Rooms are most fascinating, but, after that, one seems cooped up in an atmosphere of vicious unreality. One longs for the open air and open country after this enervating, exotic life.
So when they arrived at the little church of Ste. Devote, the patron saint of Monaco, that little building which everyone knows standing at the entrance to that deep gorge the Vallon des Gaumates, they descended the steep, narrow path which runs beside the mountain torrent and were soon alone in the beautiful little valley where the grey-green olives overhang the rippling stream. The little valley was delightfully quiet and rural after the garish scenes in Monte Carlo, the cosmopolitan chatter, and the vulgar display of the war-rich. The old habitue of pre-war days lifts his hands as he watches the post-war life around the Casino and listens to the loud uneducated chatter of the profiteers womenfolk.
As the pair went along in the welcome shadows, for the sun fell strong upon the tumbling stream, Hugh was remarking upon it.
He had been at Monte Carlo with his father before the war, and realized the change.
I only wish mother would move on, Dorise exclaimed as they strolled slowly together.
She presented a dainty figure in cream gabardine and a broad-brimmed straw hat which suited her admirably. Her clothes were made by a certain famous couturiere in Hanover Square, for Lady Ranscomb had the art of dressing her daughter as well as she did herself. Gowns make the lady nowadays, or the fashionable dressmakers dare not make their exorbitant charges.
Then you also are tired of the place? asked Hugh, as he strolled slowly at her side in a dark-blue suit and straw hat. They made a handsome pair, and were indeed well suited to each other. Lady Ranscomb liked Hugh, but she had no idea that the young people had fallen so violently in love with each other.
Yes, said the girl. Mother promised to spend Easter in Florence. Ive never been there and am looking forward to it so much. The Marchesa Ruggeri, whom we met at Harrogate last summer, has a villa there, and has invited us for Easter. But mother said this morning that she preferred to remain here.
Why?
Oh! Somebody in the hotel has put her off. An old Englishwoman who lives in Florence told her that theres nothing to see beyond the Galleries, and that the place is very catty.
Hugh laughed and replied:
All British colonies in Continental cities are catty, my dear Dorise. They say that for scandal Florence takes the palm. I went there for two seasons in succession before the war, and found the place delightful.
The Marchesa is a charming woman. Her husband was an attache at the Italian Embassy in Paris. But he has been transferred to Washington, so she has gone back to Florence. I like her immensely, and I do so want to visit her.
Oh, you must persuade your mother to take you, he said. Shell be easily persuaded.
I dont know. She doesnt like travelling in Italy. She once had her dressing-case stolen from the train between Milan and Genoa, so shes always horribly bitter against all Italians.
There are thieves also on English railways, Dorise, Hugh remarked. People are far too prone to exaggerate the shortcomings of foreigners, and close their eyes to the faults of the British.
But everybody is not so cosmopolitan as you are, Hugh, the girl laughed, raising her eyes to those of her lover.
No, he replied with a sigh.
Why do you sigh? asked the girl, having noticed a change in her companion ever since they had met in the Rooms. He seemed strangely thoughtful and preoccupied.
Did I? he asked, suddenly pulling himself together. I didnt know, he added with a forced laugh.
You dont look yourself to-day, Hugh, she said.
Ive been told that once before, he replied. The weatherI think! Are you going over to the bal blanc at Nice to-night?
Of course. And you are coming also. Hasnt mother asked you? she inquired in surprise.
No.
How silly! She must have forgotten. She told me she intended to ask you to have a seat in the car. The Comte dAutun is coming with us.
Ah! He admires you, Dorise, hence I dont like him, Hugh blurted forth.
But, surely, youre not jealous, you dear old thing! laughed the girl, tantalizing him. Perhaps she would not have uttered those words which cut deeply into his heart had she known the truth concerning the tragedy at the Villa Amette.
I dont like him because he seems to live by gambling, Hugh declared. I know your mother likes him very muchof course!
And she likes you, too, dear.
She may like me, but I fear she begins to suspect that we love each other, dearest, he said in a hard tone. If she does, she will take care in future to keep us apart, and II shall lose you, Dorise!
Nono, you wont.
Ah! But I shall! Your mother will never allow you to marry a man who has only just sufficient to rub along with, and who is already in debt to his tailor. What hope is there that we can ever marry?
My dear Hugh, you are awfully pessimistic to-day, the girl cried. What is up with you? Have you lost heavily at the tablesor what?
No. I have been thinking of the future, he said in a hard voice so very unusual to him. I am thinking of your mothers choice of a husband for youGeorge Sherrard.
I hate himthe egotistical puppy! exclaimed the girl, her fine eyes flashing with anger. Ill never marry himnever!
But Hugh Henfrey made no reply, and they went on together in silence.
Cannot you trust me, Hugh? asked the girl at last in a low earnest tone.
Yes, dearest. I trust you, of course. But I feel certain that your mother, when she knows our secret, will forbid your seeing me, and press on your marriage with Sherrard. Remember, hes a rich man, and your mother adores the Golden Calf.
I know she does. If people have money she wants to know them. Her first inquiry is whether they have money.
It was on the tip of Hughs tongue to remark with sarcasm that such ideals might well be expected of the wife of a jerry-builder in Golders green. But he hesitated. Lady Ranscomb was always well disposed towards him, and he had had many good times at her house and on the grouse moor she rented in Scotland each year for the benefit of her intimate friends. Though she had been the wife of a small builder and had commenced her married life in an eight-roomed house on the fringe of Hampstead Heath, yet she had picked up society manners marvellously well, being a woman of quick intelligence and considerable wit. Nevertheless, she had no soul above money, and gaiety was as life to her. She could not live without it. Dorise had been given an excellent education, and after three years at Versailles was now voted one of the prettiest and most charming girls in London society. Hence mother and daughter were sought after everywhere, and their doings were constantly being chronicled in the newspapers.
Yes, he said. Your mother has not asked me over to Nice to-night because she believes you and I have been too much together of late.
No, declared Dorise. Im sure its not that, HughIm quite sure! Its simply an oversight. Ill see about it when we get back. We leave the hotel at half-past nine. It is the great White Ball of the Nice season.
Please dont mention it to her on any account, Dorise, Hugh urged. If you did it would at once show her that you preferred my company to that of the Count. Go with him. I shant be jealous! Besides, in view of my financial circumstances, what right have I to be jealous? You cant marry a fellow like myself, Dorise. It wouldnt be fair to you.
The girl halted. In her eyes shone the light of unshed tears.
Hugh! What do you mean? What are you saying? she asked in a low, faltering voice. Have I not told you that whatever happens I shall never love another man but yourself?
He drew a long breath, and without replying placed his strong arms around her and, drawing her to him, kissed her passionately upon the lips.
Thank you, my darling, he murmured. Thank you for those words. They put into me a fresh hope, a fresh determination, and a fearlessnessoh! youyou dont know! he added in a low, earnest voice.
All I know, Hugh, is that you love me, was the simple response as she reciprocated his fierce caress.
Love you, darling! he cried. Yes. You are minemine!
True, Hugh. I love no other man. I hate that tailors dummy, George Sherrard, and as for the Countwell, hes an idiotic Frenchmanthe hardy annual of Monte Carlo I heard him called the other day. No, Hugh, I assure you that you have no cause for jealousy.
And she smiled sweetly into his eyes.
They were standing together beneath a twisted old olive tree through the dark foliage of which the sun shone in patches, while by their feet the mountain torrent from the high, snow-clad Alps rippled and splashed over the great grey boulders towards the sea.
I know it, darling! I know it, Hugh said in a stifled voice. He was thinking of the tragedy of that night, but dare not disclose to her his connexion with it, because he knew the police suspected him of making that murderous attack upon the famous Mademoiselle.
Forgive me, Hugh, exclaimed the girl, still clasped in her lovers arms. But somehow you dont seem your old self to-day. What is the matter? Cant you tell me?
He drew a long breath.
No, darling. Excuse me. IIm a bit upset thats all.
Why?
Im upset because for the last day or two I have begun to realize that our secret must very soon come out, and thenwell, your mother will forbid me the house because I have no money. You know that she worships Mammon alwaysjust as your father didforgive me for my words.