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diff --git a/77836-h/77836-h.htm b/77836-h/77836-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..985a54e --- /dev/null +++ b/77836-h/77836-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11869 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + The mystery road | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.tiny {width: 5%; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} +h3.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td {padding-left: 1em;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { + margin-left: 7.5%; + margin-right: 7.5%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph3 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +.xxlarge {font-size: 175%;} +.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} + +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } +.x-ebookmaker .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} + +.gap {padding-left: 1em;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + +.x-ebookmaker .transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77836 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1>THE MYSTERY ROAD</h1> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> + <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="450" height="696" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="caption">Gerald looked him over for a moment, unmoved but + intensely curious. <span class="gap"><span class="allsmcap">FRONTISPIECE.</span></span><span class="gap"> <i>See page <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</i></span></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="title page"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="titlepage"> +<p><span class="xxlarge">THE MYSTERY ROAD</span></p> + +<p>By<br> +<span class="xlarge">E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</span></p> + +<p>WITH FRONTISPIECE BY<br> +<span class="large">F. VAUX WILSON</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepagelogo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></div> + +<p>BOSTON<br> +<span class="large">LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY</span><br> +1923</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1923</i>,<br> +<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.</p> +<hr class="tiny"> +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i><br> +<br> +Published May, 1923</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Printed in the United States of America</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +<i>To<br> +the memory of</i><br> + +<span class="large"><i>WINIFRED TOLTON</i></span><br> + +<i>the most wonderful secretary and<br> +dearest friend of my life I dedicate<br> +this story which I dictated to her<br> +and which she loved</i></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> +<p class="ph2">BOOK ONE</p> +</div> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> +<p class="ph2">THE MYSTERY ROAD</p> +<hr class="tiny"> +<h2 class="nobreak">BOOK ONE</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I</h3> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Myrtile</span> stood upon the crazy verandah, her eyes +shaded by her hand, gazing down the straight, narrow +footpath, a sundering line across the freshly ploughed +field, which led to the village in the hollow below. The +mouldering white stone cottage from which she had +issued was set in a cleft of the pine-covered hills; it +seemed to struggle against its inborn ugliness and to +succeed only because of the beauty of its setting,—in +the foreground the brown earth, with its neatly trained +vines and its quarter of an acre of fragrant violets; the +orchard, pink and white with masses of cherry blossom; +beyond, a level stretch of freshly turned brown earth, +soon to become a delicate carpet of tender green, and, +by the time the vines should sprout, a sea of deep gold. +It was the typical homestead of the small French +peasant proprietor. Even the goat was not absent, +the goat which came at that moment with clanking +chain to rub his nose against the girl’s knee.</p> + +<p>Myrtile’s hand dropped to her side. The three +figures were plainly visible now. She remained quiescent, +watching them with a mute tragedy in her face +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>which, to any one ignorant of the inner significance of +this approaching procession, must have seemed a little +puzzling. For there was nothing tragic about Jean +Sargot—middle-aged, a typical peasant of the district, +with coarsened face and weather-beaten skin—or +about the companion who hung on his arm,—a +plump, dark woman, with black hair and eyes, vociferous +and fluent of gesture, with a high-pitched voice and +apparently much to say. The third person, who walked +in the rear, seemed even less likely to incite apprehension. +He was more corpulent than his neighbour Jean +Sargot, and he wore clothes of a holiday type, ill suited +to this quiet country promenade. His coat was black +and long, a garment, it appeared, of earlier years, for +it left a very broad gap to display a fancy waistcoat +adorned by a heavy gold chain. He wore a silk hat +which had done duty at every christening, marriage and +funeral in the neighbourhood for the last twenty years, +and his whole appearance was one of discomfort. Yet +the girl’s eyes, as they rested upon him, were filled with +terror.</p> + +<p>They were near enough now for speech, and her stepfather, +waving his hand, called out to her:</p> + +<p>“It is the Widow Dumay, little one, and our friend +and neighbour, Pierre Leschamps, who come to drink a +glass of wine with us. Hurry with the table and some +chairs, and bring one—two bottles of last year’s +vintage. It is not so bad, that wine, neighbour Pierre, +I can promise you.”</p> + +<p>“Any wine will be good after such a walk,” the +widow declared, panting. “Either the village lies too +low, friend Jean, or your house too high. It will be +good to rest.”</p> + +<p>They sank into the chairs which Myrtile had already +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>placed upon the verandah, Pierre Leschamps laying his +hat upon a handkerchief in a safe corner. There were +beads of perspiration upon his forehead, for, unlike his +friend and host, he was unused to exercise. He kept +the little café in the village, and the strip of land which +went with it he let to others. His pale cheeks and +flabby limbs told their own story. Jean Sargot looked +about him with the pride of the proprietor.</p> + +<p>“Not so bad, this little dwelling, eh?” he exclaimed. +“Four rooms, all well-furnished, a bed such as one seldom +sees, and a wardrobe made by my own grandfather, +Jacques Sargot, the carpenter. It pleases thee, +Marie?”</p> + +<p>The widow looked around her with a little sniff.</p> + +<p>“It might be worse,” she conceded, “but there are +the children.”</p> + +<p>“Three only,” Sargot replied, “and in a year or so +they will all be in the fields. Think what that may +mean. We can sell the timber from the strip behind +and plant more vines. Children are not so bad when +they are strong.”</p> + +<p>“The little ones are well enough,” Madame Dumay +admitted, “but thy eldest—Myrtile—she has not the +air of health.”</p> + +<p>They all looked up at the girl, who was approaching +them at this moment with wine and glasses. She was +of medium height and slim. Her complexion was +creamily pale; even the skin about her neck and arms +had little of the peasant’s brown. Her neatly braided +hair was of the darkest shade of brown, with here and +there some glints of a lighter colour. Her eyes, silkily +fringed, were of a wonderful shade of deep blue, her +mouth tremulous and beautiful. There was something +a little exotic about her appearance, although no actual +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>indication of ill health. The widow looked at her critically; +Pierre, the innkeeper, with unpleasant things in +his black, beady eyes.</p> + +<p>“Pooh! she is well enough,” her stepfather declared. +“Never a doctor has crossed this threshold since her +mother died many years ago.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile welcomed her father’s guests pleasantly but +timidly. Then, after she had filled the glasses, she +would have slipped back into the house but Jean Sargot +grasped her by the arm.</p> + +<p>“To-night, my child,” he insisted, “you must leave +your books alone. You must drink a glass of wine with +us. It is an occasion, this.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile looked from one to the other of the two +visitors. She had for a moment the air of a trapped +animal. Madame Dumay made a little grimace, but +Pierre only laughed. She was a flower, this Myrtile, +not like other girls. Even the young men complained +of her aloofness. He knew well how to deal with such +modesty.</p> + +<p>“Behold,” her stepfather continued, “our two best +friends! Here is good Madame Dumay. A nice little +income she makes at the shop, and a tidy sum in her +stocking.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, là, là!” the widow interrupted. “What has +that to do with thee, my friend?”</p> + +<p>“And also,” Jean Sargot went on, without taking +heed of the interruption, “the brave Pierre Leschamps. +Oh, a gay dog, that Leschamps! A man of property, +mark you, child. And listen! Why do you think these +friends of mine are here?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot tell,” Myrtile faltered.</p> + +<p>“Madame Dumay will become my wife. It is what +we need here. And Pierre Leschamps—hear this, little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>one—he seeks a wife. He has chosen you. I have +given my consent.”</p> + +<p>Leschamps had risen to his feet. Myrtile shrank +back against the wall. The terror had leaped now into +life.</p> + +<p>“I will not marry Monsieur Leschamps,” she declared. +“The other—is your affair. But as for me, +I will not marry!”</p> + +<p>Jean Sargot leaned back in his chair and drank his +wine. His two guests followed his example.</p> + +<p>“Ho, ho!” he laughed. “Come, that is good! You +were always a shy child, Myrtile. Pierre shall woo you +into a different humour.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, indeed!” the innkeeper assented, leering across +at the girl with covetous eyes. “We shall understand +one another presently, little one. You need have no +fear. Marriage is a pleasant thing. You will find it +so like all the others.”</p> + +<p>“It is an institution to be toasted,” Jean Sargot declared, +filling the glasses and glancing amorously towards +the widow. “Trouble not about Myrtile, my +friend Pierre. She is thine. We shall drink this glass +of wine to Marriage. It will be a festival, that, eh, +Marie?”</p> + +<p>Myrtile slipped through the open doorway. Her +prospective husband looked after her for a moment and +half rose. Then he looked back at the wine, flowing +into his glass. Myrtile would keep,—wine by the side +of Jean Sargot, never! He resumed his seat. In a +minute or two he would follow her,—as soon as the +second bottle was empty.</p> + +<p>Across the stone-flagged floor, out through the little +garden and along the cypress avenue to the road, +Myrtile fled. She was like a terrified young fawn in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>the half-light, her hair flying behind her, her large eyes +filled with fear. Her feet seemed scarcely to touch the +grass-grown track. She fled as one who leaves behind +evil things. Only once she looked over her shoulder. +No one was stirring, no one seemed to have thought of +pursuit. She reached the gate which led out on to the +road and clung to it for a moment, as though for protection. +On the other side was freedom. Her eyes +filled with passionate desire. If only she knew how to +gain it!</p> + +<p>They were singing now down at the cottage. She +heard Jean Sargot’s strident voice in some country +song of harvest and vintage and what they called love. +As she stood there in the quiet of the evening, there +seemed suddenly to leap into life a very furnace of revolt. +She was weary of her monotonous tasks,—the +abuse of her stepfather, generally at night the worse +for sour wine and fiery brandy; the care of those motherless +children, not of her own stock yet dependent upon +her; the grey tedium of a life unbeautiful and hopeless. +And now this fresh terror! Her fingers tore at the +rough splinters of the gate. Her eyes travelled +hungrily along that great stretch of road, passing here +and there through the forests, rising in the far distance +to the top of the brown hillside, and disappearing in +mystery. At the other end of the road one might find +happiness!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> two young men adopted characteristic attitudes +when confronted with the slight misadventure of a burst +tyre and a delay of half an hour. Christopher Bent +deliberately filled and lit a pipe, and, seating himself +on the top of a low, grey, stone wall, gave himself up +to the joy of a wonderful view and the pleasure of unusual +surroundings. His companion, Gerald Dombey, +stood peevishly in the middle of the road, with his hands +in his pockets, cursing the flint-strewn road, the rottenness +of all motor tyres, and the evil chance which led +to this mishap in the last lap of their journey.</p> + +<p>“We’ll be on the road again in twenty minutes, your +lordship,” the chauffeur promised, as he paused for a +moment to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. +“It’s been cruel going all the way from Brignolles, and +you’ve kept her at well past the forty, all the time.”</p> + +<p>His master nodded with some signs of returning +equanimity.</p> + +<p>“Don’t distress yourself, John,” he said. “There’s +no real hurry so long as we get into Monte Carlo before +dark. Come on, Christopher,” he added, turning to his +companion. “Get off that wall and let us explore.”</p> + +<p>The two young men strolled off together. On their +right was a thickly planted forest of pine trees, fragrantly +aromatic after the warm sunshine of the April +day. On their left was a stretch of very wonderful +country, a country of vineyards and pastures, of +wooded knolls and fruitful valleys. And in the background, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>the sombre outline of the mountains. Gerald +paused to point to the little, discoloured house of Jean +Sargot.</p> + +<p>“Are they real people who live in these quaint cottages?” +he speculated. “That place, for instance, +looks like a toy farm, with its patch of violets, its tiny +vineyard, its belt of ploughed land and this little grove +of cypresses. It is just as though some child had taken +them all from his play box and laid them out there.”</p> + +<p>Christopher withdrew the pipe from his mouth for a +moment. He was looking at the opening in the little +grove of cypresses.</p> + +<p>“And there,” he murmured, “must be the child to +whom they all belong. I think you are right, Gerald. +There is something unreal about the place.”</p> + +<p>Gerald, too, was suddenly conscious of the girl who +stood clutching the top of the wooden gate, her face +turned a little away from them, absorbed in the contemplation +of that distant spot where the road vanished +in a faint haze of blue mist.</p> + +<p>“We will talk to her,” he declared. “You shall +practise your French upon this little rustic, Chris. +She probably won’t be able to understand a word you +say.”</p> + +<p>At the sound of their voices, Myrtile turned her head, +and, at the things which they saw in her face, there was +no longer any thought of frivolous conversation on the +part of the two young men. They stood for a moment +indeed, speechless, Christopher spellbound, Gerald, of +quicker sensibility, carried for a moment into the world +from which she seemed to have fallen. Then his old +habits asserted themselves. She was as beautiful as an +angel, but her feet were on the ground, and she was +obviously in distress.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>“Are you alive, mademoiselle?” he asked, raising his +cap.</p> + +<p>“But certainly, monsieur,” she answered gravely. +“I am alive but very unhappy.”</p> + +<p>“You can tell us, perhaps, the way to Cannes?” +Christopher enquired.</p> + +<p>She pointed to where the thin ribbon of road in +the distance seemed to melt into the bosom of the +clouds.</p> + +<p>“Cannes is over there, monsieur,” she said, “and +there is no other road save this one.”</p> + +<p>“You go there often, perhaps?” Christopher ventured.</p> + +<p>“I have never been there, monsieur,” she answered, +with her eyes fixed upon Gerald. “Night after night, +when my work is done, I come here and I watch the road +just where it fades away, but I have never travelled +along it. I have never been further than the first village, +down in the hollow.”</p> + +<p>Gerald came a step nearer to her. He leaned against +the gate post. His tone and manner became unconsciously +caressing. It was generally so when he spoke +with women.</p> + +<p>“You are in trouble, mademoiselle,” he said. “Sometimes +even a stranger may help.”</p> + +<p>She looked down the road towards where the automobile +was jacked up.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she admitted, “I am in great trouble. No +one but a stranger could help me because I have no +friends.”</p> + +<p>“Be brave, then, and speak on,” Gerald enjoined.</p> + +<p>There had been no previous time in her life when +Myrtile had been required to marshal her thoughts and +speak unaccustomed words, yet, at that moment, clearly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>and unfalteringly she told her story. She pointed to +the weather-stained cottage behind.</p> + +<p>“I live there,” she said, “with three half-brothers +and sisters and a stepfather. My mother was the village +schoolmistress. She married for the second time a +bad man, and she died. I have taken care of those +children. I have kept the house clean and tidy. I +have done what the curé told me was my duty, and all +the time I have hated it.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” Christopher asked simply.</p> + +<p>She looked across as though surprised at his intervention.</p> + +<p>“Because the children are coarse and greedy and ill-mannered,” +she explained. “I wear myself out trying +to make them different, but it is useless. It is in their +blood, because my stepfather—is worse. Often he +drinks too much brandy, he is quarrelsome, he is never +kind. There is not one little joy in life, only when I +escape for a little time and come here, and look down +the road which leads to liberty, and wonder what may +lie at the other side of the hills there. You see, I have +read books—many books. My mother and father +were both well-educated. I know and feel that the life +I am leading is terrible.”</p> + +<p>“There is something beyond all this,” Gerald +said. “There is something of instant trouble in your +face.”</p> + +<p>Again for a moment she was voiceless, a white, dumb +thing stricken nerveless with horror. It was that look +which had surprised the two men. Her breath, as she +spoke, seemed choked with unuttered sobs.</p> + +<p>“My stepfather brought home from the village to-night—the +Widow Dumay. He is to marry her—to +bring her to the farm. He brought, too, Pierre Leschamps, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>the keeper of the Café.—Horrible!—horrible!”</p> + +<p>“Pierre Leschamps,” Gerald murmured softly. +“Go on.”</p> + +<p>The girl opened her lips but the words seemed to +stick in her throat.</p> + +<p>“They propose, perhaps, to betroth you?” he asked, +with quick understanding.</p> + +<p>Her assent was mirrored in the agony of her eyes.</p> + +<p>“He is fat and old and he drinks,” she cried. “I +would sooner die than have him come near me!”</p> + +<p>The two young men turned their heads and looked +down at the little farmhouse. The very abode of peace, +it seemed, with its thin thread of smoke curling up to +the sky, its thatched roof, its reposeful atmosphere. +Just then, however, they caught the murmur of discordant +voices, a shrill shriek of laughter. The men +were singing.</p> + +<p>“Look upon us as two friends,” Gerald begged. +“What would you have us do?”</p> + +<p>The girl pointed once more to where the road disappeared +amongst the hills.</p> + +<p>“If you leave me here,” she declared, “I shall walk +and run and crawl until I pass out of sight there, and +perhaps they may borrow the widow’s cart and catch +me, and then I shall kill myself. Take me with you as +far as you are going—somewhere where I can hide.”</p> + +<p>The car glided slowly up to where they were standing. +Gerald did not hesitate for a moment. He stepped into +his place at the driving wheel and motioned to the seat +by his side.</p> + +<p>“Agreed,” he said. “We will start you, little one—tell +me, how are you called?”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” she murmured.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>“We will start you off on the great adventure of life. +It seems to me that there can be nothing worse in store +for you than what you leave behind.”</p> + +<p>The girl pushed open the gate and sprang into the +car like a frightened thing. Gerald turned his head. +Around the corner of the farm three unsteady figures +showed themselves; three voices—two raucous and one +shrill—called for Myrtile. There were threats, gesticulations. +The girl cowered by Gerald’s side.</p> + +<p>“Start!” she implored. “Start, please!”</p> + +<p>Christopher, however, still hesitated.</p> + +<p>“I think,” he said, “we should first hear what these +people have to say. They have, after all, some claim +upon the girl. It might be possible to aid her without +bringing her away from home.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile clung to Gerald. Her eyes were swimming +pools of passionate entreaty.</p> + +<p>“Start, monsieur,” she pleaded. “There is nothing +for me but escape. Why does the other gentleman +mind?”</p> + +<p>“Get in, there’s a good fellow,” Gerald begged impatiently. +“We don’t want to have a row with these +yokels.”</p> + +<p>The chauffeur was already in the dickey behind. +Myrtile’s eyes implored Christopher to take the place +by her side. With his feet still on the road, however, +he leaned across her to Gerald.</p> + +<p>“Gerald,” he said, “this is a more serious affair than +you seem to think. Who is going to look after the child +when we get to Monte Carlo?”</p> + +<p>“You can, if you like,” was the careless reply. “I’m +not thinking of playing the Lothario, if that is what +you mean.”</p> + +<p>“Word of honour?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>“Word of honour. Don’t be an ass, old chap. It’s +up to us to give the girl a chance.”</p> + +<p>Christopher stripped off his coat and wrapped it +around Myrtile. Then he took the place by her side. +Gerald slipped in the clutch and they glided off.</p> + +<p>The twilight overtook them swiftly. The lights of +Monte Carlo, as they commenced the long descent, were +like pin pricks of fire thrust through a deep blue carpet. +Out in the bay, the yacht of an American millionaire +was illuminated from bow to stern. From the back of +the twin range of hills on their left, the golden horn of +the moon was beginning to show itself. Myrtile, whose +eyes had been fixed upon the flying milestones, leaned +forward now with a little exclamation of wonder.</p> + +<p>“It is fairyland!” she cried.</p> + +<p>Gerald looked down at her indulgently.</p> + +<p>“You live so near and you have never been even as +far as this?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“It is as I have told you,” she answered. “I have +never travelled ten kilometres from the farm in my +life.”</p> + +<p>Christopher was almost incredulous. Gerald, however, +nodded sympathetically. Both young men had +taken it for granted from the first that their charge +understood no English.</p> + +<p>“In France they are like that,” Gerald remarked. +“It is the sous that count. But this child—isn’t she +amazing, Christopher? Except for her clothes, there +isn’t a thing about her that suggests the peasant. She +is like a child Madonna—an angel—who has stolen +into the clothes of a girl gone for her first communion.”</p> + +<p>“I should still like to know what you are going to do +with her when we arrive?” Christopher asked bluntly. +“Are you going to take her to the Villa?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>“Later on, perhaps,” was the careless reply. “Certainly +not this evening.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” Christopher persisted. “Your sister +is very kind-hearted. It seems to me, as long as we +have the girl on our hands, that she is the proper person +to look after her.”</p> + +<p>Gerald smiled slightly.</p> + +<p>“My dear Chris,” he said, “you and Mary are pals, +I know, but I am not sure that you altogether understand +her. She doesn’t like surprises. We must pave +the way a little before we ask for her help.”</p> + +<p>“And in the meantime?”</p> + +<p>Gerald yawned.</p> + +<p>“What a persistent fellow you are!” he observed.</p> + +<p>“You can’t imagine that they will take her in +at the hotel, without any luggage and in our company?”</p> + +<p>Myrtile had been looking from one to the other of her +two companions with a sense of growing trouble in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Messieurs,” she interrupted, “it was wrong of me +not to tell you before. I speak a little English. I understand +very well.”</p> + +<p>“You are a most amazing child!” Gerald exclaimed, +looking down at her in genuine astonishment. “You +have never been ten kilometres from your homestead, +and you speak a foreign language! That comes of +having a schoolmistress for a mother, I suppose. However, +have no fear. We shall dispose of you pleasantly.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow,” she said timidly, “I can find work.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow be hanged!” Gerald replied. “Look +about you, little one. We are entering the town. If +your story is true—and we know that it is,” he added +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>hastily, “you see for the first time shops, villas, hotels. +The building in front of us is the Casino. Now you see +the lights that fringe the bay.”</p> + +<p>“It is amazing,” Myrtile murmured.</p> + +<p>They drew up at the side door of the hotel where the +two young men were to stay. Gerald descended.</p> + +<p>“Take care of the child for a few minutes, Chris,” +he begged. “I am going to interview one of the housekeepers.”</p> + +<p>He disappeared into the hotel. Myrtile watched his +tall, slim figure until he was lost to sight. Then the +fear seemed to return. She shivered.</p> + +<p>“I am a trouble to him,” she faltered. “He will +hate me for it. I only meant that you should drive me +somewhere where I could lose myself. Perhaps I had +better go, monsieur. Can I not slip away before he +returns?”</p> + +<p>“He would be very angry if you did,” Christopher +assured her. “He has gone to arrange for some one +to look after you for the night. To-morrow I think +you will do well if you try to find some work. If you +wish it, I will help you.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes still devoured the door through which Gerald +had passed.</p> + +<p>“Tell me his name?” she begged.</p> + +<p>“His name,” Christopher replied, “is Gerald Annesley +Dombey.”</p> + +<p>She repeated it after him, a little hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>“I shall always think of him as Gerald,” she said. +“It is a very pretty name. Tell me, why did the chauffeur +say ‘your lordship’?”</p> + +<p>“Because he is the eldest son of an earl and he is entitled +to be called Lord Dombey.”</p> + +<p>“He is noble, then? I am not surprised. He seemed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>like that to me.—And you, monsieur? May I know +your name?”</p> + +<p>“My name is Christopher Bent,” he replied, “plain +Christopher Bent.”</p> + +<p>“‘Christopher’ is a very nice name,” she said, with +a trifle of unconscious condescension, “but of course it +is not like ‘Gerald.’”</p> + +<p>She looked longingly back towards the crowded doorway, +and the young man who stood by her side was +aware of a curious and altogether inexplicable sensation. +He suddenly found himself envying Gerald’s +careless but fascinating manners, his good looks, his +light, debonair manner of speech. Even this little waif +picked up at the roadside was already under his spell. +Then Christopher remembered other things about his +friend, and his face grew stern.</p> + +<p>Gerald returned presently with a neatly dressed +young woman. He held out his hands to Myrtile and +assisted her to alight.</p> + +<p>“It is all arranged, child,” he announced. “Annette +is a chambermaid here, and the niece of one of the housekeepers, +whom I know well. She will take you to some +rooms close at hand, where you will be made comfortable. +To-morrow morning early, Christopher and I +will come and see you.”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle will be entirely well suited,” the young +woman declared. “It is but a few yards away.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile, still wrapped in Christopher’s coat, looked a +little pathetic as she stood upon the pavement by Annette’s +side.</p> + +<p>“I shall not see you again to-night, then, Monsieur +Lord Dombey?” she asked shyly.</p> + +<p>“Not to-night,” he laughed. “And ‘Monsieur Gerald’ +is quite enough from you, petite. To-morrow we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>will have a long talk. Have no fear—you shall not +return to the farm unless it is your wish.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile stooped and with a sudden, passionate gesture +raised his hand to her lips. Then she dragged +Annette off, without looking behind. Gerald laughed a +little consciously.</p> + +<p>“Our village maiden is somewhat demonstrative,” he +remarked lightly. “Come on, Chris. A cocktail whilst +they unpack our clothes. I’ve telephoned to the Villa. +We must do a duty dinner there first, but afterwards I +will show you the land where the pleasure-seekers of the +world have built their Temple.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Mary Dombey</span> was a young woman of very +pleasing appearance, but there were occasions upon +which she could look stern. This was one of them.</p> + +<p>“I am never surprised at anything that Gerald +does,” she told Christopher, who was seated next her at +the dinner table, “but I must say that I should never +have expected you to have been mixed up in one of his +escapades. What are you going to do with the girl?”</p> + +<p>“We rather hoped for some advice from you,” was +the somewhat rueful reply.</p> + +<p>“You are welcome to it. Send her home.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t talk like that if you’d seen the state +of terror she was in when we found her, Mary,” Gerald +remarked from the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>“Is she very beautiful?” his sister enquired.</p> + +<p>“Wonderfully,” Christopher pronounced.</p> + +<p>Gerald shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“She is of an age when all girls are beautiful,” he +observed. “Perfectly filthy time she seems to have +been having, though.”</p> + +<p>“We hoped,” Christopher ventured, a little doubtfully, +“that you might be able to make use of her as a +kind of under sewing maid, or something of that sort.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” Lady Mary replied, without enthusiasm, +“I am perfectly satisfied with the services of my +own maid. Besides, the servants’ quarters here are ridiculously +cramped. They are all complaining, as it is.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>Lord Hinterleys, who had taken only a languid interest +in the conversation, intervened for the first time.</p> + +<p>“Where is the young person now?” he enquired.</p> + +<p>“In some rooms one of the housekeepers at the hotel +found for me, sir,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the housekeeper can find her some employment,” +his father suggested.</p> + +<p>“We’ll dispose of her all right,” Gerald declared confidently. +“She may wake up in the morning and feel +homesick, and, if so, we’ll send her back.”</p> + +<p>“You know very well that she won’t do anything of +the sort,” Christopher protested.</p> + +<p>Lady Mary rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>“I can’t quite decide,” she said, “which of you two +has lost his heart to this paragon of village loveliness. +However, I feel sure that my advice is the best. Send +her back to her people.”</p> + +<p>Gerald strolled to the door with his sister and +returned to his place, fingering his cigarette case irritably.</p> + +<p>“I have always thought,” he remarked, with mild +sarcasm, “that a barrister should be a person of infinite +tact and perceptions. It appears that I was +wrong. I never dreamed that any one could be such a +blithering ass as you, Chris.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Gerald,” his friend replied, helping himself +from the decanter which Lord Hinterleys had +passed around. “In what respect have I merited this +severe criticism?”</p> + +<p>“Why, by talking about the girl as though she were +something unusual! Mary’s a good sort, and all that, +but no girl likes the man who is sitting next her at dinner +time to rave about his latest discovery of violet +eyes. You’d probably have had those violet eyes to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>look at every time you came down to stay at Hinterleys, +if you hadn’t made such an ass of yourself.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys sipped his wine thoughtfully. Gerald, +who was longing to smoke, watched its leisurely disappearance +with impatience.</p> + +<p>“I am not suggesting for a single moment,” the former +observed, “that your attitude towards this young +woman is not and will not always be entirely irreproachable, +but at the same time you must remember that we +are in a country where such adventures are likely to be +misunderstood. I feel inclined, therefore, to endorse +your sister’s advice. It is very possible that the young +woman, at the time you discovered her, was indulging +in a passing fit of petulance. I should do all that I +could to encourage her to return to her people.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll talk to her in the morning, sir,” Gerald promised. +“Wonderfully this port has travelled.”</p> + +<p>“We brought it out six years ago,” his father remarked. +“Martin laid it down himself, and it has not +been disturbed since.—There, I have finished my two +glasses. I shall retire to the drawing-room and persuade +Mary to sing to me, and you two young fellows +can smoke to your hearts’ content. Give me your arm, +Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t think we shall stop long, if you’ll excuse us, +sir,” Gerald confided, as he rose to his feet. “It’s +Christopher’s first night in Monte Carlo and I want to +show him the ropes. Come along, old chap, and make +your adieux,” he added, turning to his friend.</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys nodded as he leaned on his ivory-topped +stick.</p> + +<p>“You young men choose weird games at which to lose +your money, nowadays,” he observed. “Filthy places, +all Casinos—no ventilation, foul atmosphere, reeking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>of scent and tobacco, and, to say the least of it, a very +dubious company. Still, if I were your age I suppose +I shouldn’t notice these things.—Did you do any good +with those two hunters you bought from Loxley, Gerald? +One of them I thought was good enough for some of +these country steeplechases.”</p> + +<p>Father and son became temporarily absorbed in a +subject of common interest. Lady Mary made room +for Christopher by her side. She was scarcely possessed +of her brother’s good looks, but her complexion +was good, her features unexceptionable, her eyes clear +and as a rule sympathetic, her tone and manner attractive. +Her figure, especially in a riding habit, was undeniable, +her skill at golf and tennis far above the ordinary +amateur. It was not for lack of offers that, at +twenty-four years of age, she was still unmarried.</p> + +<p>“Must you rush off so soon on your first evening?” +she asked reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“Not so far as I am concerned,” he assured her. +“I would rather stay here and listen to you sing. It’s +Gerald who is dying to lose his money.”</p> + +<p>She made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>“Every one goes to the Casino or the Sporting Club +at night,” she said, “and for the first few times it is +amusing enough. I hope you won’t spend all your time +there. When shall we play golf?”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow afternoon?” he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>“I’m taking father out to lunch at the Club,” she +said. “We’ll play directly afterwards, if that suits +you. Tell me, have you had any interesting cases +lately? I saw that you won the libel suit you were telling +me about.”</p> + +<p>They talked for some time with interest. Lady +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>Mary’s wit was keen and her insight unusual. During +a pause in their conversation, Lord Hinterleys looked +across the room through his horn-rimmed eyeglass.</p> + +<p>“Your friend seems to get on very well with Mary,” +he remarked.</p> + +<p>“They’ve always been pals,” Gerald acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“Doing pretty well at the Bar, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Thundering well. They say he’s certain to be one +of our youngest K. C’s.”</p> + +<p>“I knew his father,” Lord Hinterleys reflected. “He +was at Eton with me. Very good stock, though not remarkably +prosperous.”</p> + +<p>“Christopher isn’t well off,” Gerald admitted. “You +don’t make a lot of money at the Bar your first few +years.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys said nothing for several moments.</p> + +<p>“Mary has her aunt’s hundred thousand pounds,” +he said at length. “She is a difficult young person to +marry. Knows her own mind, though. I should never +interfere.”</p> + +<p>“Chris is a good fellow, but I don’t fancy he has any +thought of marrying just yet,” Gerald remarked. +“You won’t mind if I take him off now, sir? We shall +meet for lunch at the Golf Club to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Christopher obeyed his friend’s summons without enthusiasm. +Gerald, however, was both insistent and +impatient, and the two young men took their leave a +few minutes later.</p> + +<p>Christopher, quickly impressed with the charm of the +place, would have willingly spent the remainder of the +evening seated outside the Café de Paris, watching the +passers-by, listening to the music, and marvelling at the +amphitheatre of lights which fringed the bay and dotted +the whole background of hills with little specks of yellow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>fire. Gerald, however, was too anxious to do the whole +honours of the place. He dragged his friend into the +bureau of the Casino, where they obtained their tickets +for the Cercle Privé, and afterwards on to the Sporting +Club, the Mecca of Gerald’s desires for the evening, at +any rate. Christopher breathed a little more freely +here than in the Casino; the atmosphere was less pernicious, +the crowd by which he was surrounded far more +attractive. After Gerald had taken a seat at the baccarat +table, he wandered around for some time, fascinated +by this strange, cosmopolitan gathering, their +diversity in class, manners and dress. Presently he +found a seat in the little bar, ordered a whisky and soda +and leaned back to watch the never-ceasing stream of +pleasure-seeking loiterers. Suddenly, without any +warning, his thoughts played him a queer trick. The +walls of the thronged room fell away; its murmur of +silvery voices, its tangle of exotic perfumes, were nonexistent. +He was back on the cool, sunlit hillside, with +the odour of the violets and the pines in his nostrils, and +the girl looking over the gate. She turned her head +and he saw her face,—her beautiful eyes, with their +passionate, terrified appeal; her quivering lips, her +child’s figure; the tender appeal of her, the soul and +sweetness of her innocent youth clinging like some fresh, +sweet perfume to her trembling body.</p> + +<p>Gerald stood suddenly before him, his face aflame, his +eyes brilliant. His voice quivered with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Christopher, you moonstruck old dodderer,” he +cried, “wake up! I have seen the most wonderful creature +on earth. I won’t leave this place until I find out +who she is.”</p> + +<p>“What, another adventure?” Christopher exclaimed. +“Sit down and have a whisky and soda.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>“Don’t talk to me about whiskies and sodas,” Gerald +replied, sinking into the vacant chair, however, and calling +a waiter. “I tell you she’s the most amazing person +I ever saw—a revelation!”</p> + +<p>“You’re not thinking about Myrtile?”</p> + +<p>“That child? No!” was the impatient rejoinder. +“I tell you it’s some one here to-night. She’s either +French or Russian or Italian—I can’t make up my +mind which. She is with an older woman, who seems to +be a sort of attendant. Every one’s talking about her, +but no one seems to know who she is.”</p> + +<p>“This place is full of that sort of people, isn’t it?” +Christopher asked, not greatly impressed.</p> + +<p>“That sort of people!” Gerald repeated contemptuously. +“Wait till you see her! I’m not easily led +away. I’ve seen the most beautiful women in most of +the capitals of the world. I was at Vienna and Rome +before the war, you know, but I never—— Don’t +move, Chris. Don’t look as though I’ve been talking +about them. Here they come!”</p> + +<p>Christopher watched the approach of the two women +with an interest casual at first but real enough as they +drew nearer. The younger of the two walked slightly +in advance. She was rather over the medium height, +and her carriage, although she was not in the least assertive, +was full of the simple dignity of one who has +been accustomed to command respect. She was slim, +yet the outlines of her figure were so soft as to become +almost voluptuous. She wore a dress of perfectly plain +black lace, against which the skin of her neck and shoulders +seemed of almost alabaster whiteness. Her only +ornament was a long, double string of pearls of unusual +size. Her hair, glossy and absolutely jet black, was +brushed from her forehead and around her ears so that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>it seemed almost like a sheath. Her complexion was +absolutely pallid, her lips a natural scarlet. Her eyes +were of a deep shade of brown, inclined to be half-closed, +as though she were short-sighted. Her eyelashes were +long and silky; her eyebrows looked as though they had +been pencilled, and yet left a conviction of entire naturalness. +Such details as remained of her toilette were +unique yet simple. The woman who followed her possessed +also an air of distinction, but she was middle-aged, +with grey hair and somewhat unwieldy figure. +She carried herself with an air of deference towards her +companion.</p> + +<p>“Well?” Gerald whispered excitedly.</p> + +<p>“She is very beautiful and very unusual,” Christopher +admitted. “Have you no idea who she +is?”</p> + +<p>“If I had found any one who knew who they were, I +should have been introduced before now,” was the blunt +reply. “Freddie Carruthers has gone down to ask the +Superintendent.”</p> + +<p>The two women subsided on to a couch. The elder +one gave an order to a waiter, the younger one glanced +indifferently around. Her eyes rested for a moment +upon Gerald. There was nothing personal in their regard—her +manner was, indeed, if anything, austere—but +Christopher was conscious of a sudden indrawn +breath, almost a sob, which escaped from his companion’s +lips.</p> + +<p>“I wish Carruthers would come,” the latter muttered +impatiently. “I didn’t exaggerate, did I, Chris?”</p> + +<p>“No,” the latter admitted, “I can’t say that you +did. She is very wonderful and very interesting. It is +quite your day for adventures.”</p> + +<p>Gerald laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>“You’re not comparing our little protégée from the +hills with—with her, are you?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Each has her charm,” Christopher replied.</p> + +<p>Gerald leaned back in his chair and laughed long and +heartily.</p> + +<p>“Our little wild rose,” he said, “is like a thousand +others—a pretty face, a fascinating age, confiding +manners. In twenty-four hours she would have taught +you all that she could know of love and life. She is as +much a yokel intellectually as this girl is a mystery. +Are there any queens or royal princesses wandering +about the world nowadays, Chris? I swear that she +looks as though she had stepped down from a throne. +Thank heavens, here comes Carruthers!”</p> + +<p>A young man who had been staring in at the doorway +recognised Gerald and came across to them.</p> + +<p>“No go, old thing,” he confided, leaning down. +“They are registered here as Madame and Mademoiselle +de Ponière—aunt and niece. The old buffer +downstairs, however, admitted that he believed that to +be an assumed name.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t you bribe him, or something?” Gerald +asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Old Johnny fairly cornered me,” Carruthers explained. +“The two ladies, he told me, had declared +their desire to remain incognito. It was not, therefore, +the business of a gentleman to be inquisitive. Whereupon +I came away with my tail between my legs. All +the same, I don’t believe he has the least idea who they +are.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t possibly escape for more than a few +days, in a place like this, without being recognised,” +Gerald declared.</p> + +<p>Carruthers stroked an incipient moustache.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>“One gets nasty knocks sometimes,” he observed. +“There was a milliner and her head mannequin who +fairly knocked them all silly at Biarritz last season.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a blatant ass, Freddy!” Gerald exclaimed +contemptuously. “Mannequins can learn to strut but +not to walk. That habit of walking into a crowded +room as though you were the only person in it isn’t +picked up in Bond Street or the Rue de la Paix. +I——”</p> + +<p>Gerald was suddenly on his feet. The younger of the +two women, in turning towards her companion, had +swept a small lace handkerchief, which she had laid +upon the table in front of them, to the floor. She made +no effort herself to regain possession of it, but glanced +towards the waiter. Gerald, however, already held it in +his fingers.</p> + +<p>“I believe this is your handkerchief, mademoiselle,” he +ventured.</p> + +<p>She accepted it with a very slight but sufficiently gracious +smile.</p> + +<p>“I thank you very much, sir,” she said, speaking in +English, with a slight foreign accent.</p> + +<p>Some casual remark was already framing itself upon +Gerald’s lips, but it remained unuttered. The girl had +turned and resumed her conversation with her companion. +She had the air of not realising that there was +another person in the room. The young man, with a +little bow, returned to his place. He hid his feelings +perfectly, but his two companions could guess at his +discomfiture.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good, old chap,” Carruthers assured him +confidentially. “They simply aren’t taking any. That +Italian Prince with the swivel eye, whom all the women +are raving about, tried his best to get into conversation. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>Managed to get one of his pals to address him by name, +so that they knew who he was, but there was nothing +doing. Dicky Gordon tried to get a word in edgeways +at the roulette table, but it didn’t come off. One of the +croupiers, whom he knew, went out of his way to whisper +to him that the ladies did not desire acquaintances.”</p> + +<p>Gerald sighed.</p> + +<p>“I shall know her sooner or later,” he muttered, +“but it’s such a waste of precious time.”</p> + +<p>The woman and the girl rose presently to their feet +and turned towards the door. Gerald, for the first time +in his life, felt himself guilty of an impertinence. He +watched them descend the stairs, watched a bowing +servant run and fetch a waiting automobile. He even, +from his position at the top of the steps, leaned forward +to hear if any word of address was spoken. He was unrewarded. +A footman opened the door of the car, closed +it and mounted to the side of the chauffeur. The car +drove rapidly away in the direction of Nice. Gerald +waited for the porter to remount the steps and slipped +a ten franc note in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Do you know who those two ladies were?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“They call themselves Madame and Mademoiselle de +Ponière,” the man replied, after a moment’s hesitation.</p> + +<p>“Call themselves?” Gerald repeated. “What do +you mean by that?”</p> + +<p>The man shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“There are many who come here who do not desire +their presence to be known, monsieur,” he said cautiously.</p> + +<p>“Criminals, perhaps,—or royalty?” Gerald ventured.</p> + +<p>The man looked imperturbably through the revolving +doors.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>“Many of all sorts, monsieur,” he assented. “Monsieur +will excuse.”</p> + +<p>He hastened off on some excuse connected with a +waiting automobile. Gerald had no alternative but to +rejoin Carruthers and Christopher, whom he found +watching the play at one of the roulette tables.</p> + +<p>“Any luck?” the former asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Not an iota,” Gerald confessed. “I tipped the +man who saw them off, but he either knew nothing or +would tell me nothing.—I shall have a plunge at baccarat,” +he added. “I feel like gambling this evening.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t forget that we promised to go and see +Myrtile early?” Christopher reminded him.</p> + +<p>Gerald stared at his friend.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile? Who the devil—— Why, the child +from the violet farm, of course! I’d forgotten all +about her.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Myrtile</span> came flying to the door. Christopher saw +her eyes travel over his shoulder, he saw the sudden +cloud upon her face. A queer little stab of pain startled +him by its very poignancy.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Gerald, he is not with you?” she asked +disconsolately.</p> + +<p>Christopher shook his head.</p> + +<p>“He was up late last night,” he explained. “I +went to his room but he was fast asleep. I dare say he +will come on presently.”</p> + +<p>The girl looked at the clock—a brazen, loudly ticking +of bright gilt.</p> + +<p>“He promised to be here early,” she said. “Has he +spoken of me? Has he said anything about sending me +back?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” Christopher assured her. “Do you still +feel that you don’t want to go back?”</p> + +<p>She stood quite still in the middle of the little apartment +and looked at him. Something about her was altered. +It seemed almost as though she had passed from +girlhood to womanhood in the night.</p> + +<p>“I will not go back,” she declared fiercely. “It is +not that I mind poverty or hard work. It is Pierre +Leschamps. I could not bear him near me. He shall +never come near me, otherwise I shall die. Even you, +Monsieur Christopher, you do not wish me to die.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes were swimming with tears. She leaned a little +towards him and Christopher patted her encouragingly. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>Her lips were very close to his, fresh and sweet +and quivering. Christopher, conscious of a rare and almost +overmastering temptation, turned away brusquely.</p> + +<p>“Come outside,” he invited. “I will take you on the +Terrace, and we will sit in the sunshine.”</p> + +<p>She clapped her hands, herself again almost immediately.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am so anxious to go down to the edge of the +sea!” she cried. “It is so wonderful. You will not +mind, monsieur, that I have no hat and that my clothes +are very poor? If you should meet your friends, they +will wonder what place I have with you.”</p> + +<p>“I have no friends here,” Christopher assured her, +“and if I had, it would not matter. Presently I will +try to find Gerald again, and we will make up our minds +what to do with you.”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Gerald will arrange everything,” Myrtile +said confidently, as they walked out into the sunshine. +“He will find me some work—I am sure of that—only +I hope that it will not take me far away. I should like +to be near him.”</p> + +<p>They wandered down from the fashionable part of the +promenade to the pebbly beach and along the sands. +Myrtile was never tired of the wonder of it all. Often, +however, she cast an anxious look backwards.</p> + +<p>“You do not think Monsieur Gerald will be searching +for us?” she asked timidly.</p> + +<p>Christopher was conscious of a curious sense of annoyance +which he could not altogether explain. He led +the way up the steps and on to the Terrace.</p> + +<p>“We will take a seat here,” he suggested. “We can +see the hotel and the turning to your lodgings, and you +can watch for him.”</p> + +<p>She acquiesced willingly, and for the next half-hour +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>she divided her attention between the entrance to the +hotel and the passers-by. At the end of that time she +became a little self-conscious.</p> + +<p>“It is not right, Monsieur Christopher,” she said, +“that I sit here with you in these clothes and without a +hat. People look at us so strangely.”</p> + +<p>“You look very nice,” Christopher assured her, “and +besides, it is no one else’s business but our own.”</p> + +<p>“Then why do they look at me so strangely?” she +persisted. “It must be because I have no toilette, no +hat, my shoes are ugly. Indeed, monsieur, it is no +place for me. Here are friends of yours coming, I am +sure—the beautifully dressed young lady who looks at +me so curiously.”</p> + +<p>“It is Gerald’s father and sister,” he whispered.</p> + +<p>She was suddenly very white and frightened. Christopher +rose to his feet. Lady Mary nodded a little +coldly, Lord Hinterleys acknowledged his greeting with +some surprise.</p> + +<p>“Where is Gerald this morning?” his sister asked.</p> + +<p>“A little lazy, I am afraid,” Christopher replied. +“When he got your message that there was to be no +golf to-day, he went to sleep again.”</p> + +<p>“And this is your little protégée, I suppose?” Mary +remarked, looking at Myrtile.</p> + +<p>“This is Myrtile,” Christopher assented. “We are +waiting for Gerald now to decide what to do with her.”</p> + +<p>“You wish to leave home, I understand?” Mary +asked, turning to the girl, who had risen to her feet.</p> + +<p>“I will never return there,” Myrtile replied,—“no, +not even if Monsieur Gerald himself commanded me to. +I would sooner throw myself into the sea.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that a little extreme?” her questioner rejoined +coldly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>“The misery I should have to face if I returned +would also be extreme,” Myrtile declared. “I am hoping +to find some work here.”</p> + +<p>“That should not be difficult,” Mary observed. +“Give Gerald our love, Christopher. I was sorry to +have to put off the golf, but dad didn’t feel equal to +Mont Agel this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing serious, I hope, sir?” Christopher enquired.</p> + +<p>“Nothing at all,” Lord Hinterleys replied. “I was +a little tired, and I always feel the air up there rather +strong. Tell Gerald I hope we shall see him some time +during the day.”</p> + +<p>He raised his hat and they passed on, Mary with a +nod to Christopher which lacked much of its usual cordiality. +Myrtile looked after them and there was trouble +in her face.</p> + +<p>“They do not like me,” she said. “They do not +think that I ought to be here with you. They are right, +of course. I am just a little peasant girl in peasant +girl’s clothes. Let us go.”</p> + +<p>Christopher’s remonstrances were in vain. She +turned and walked away, and he was obliged to follow. +Just as they were leaving the promenade, however, they +came face to face with Gerald, issuing from the hotel. +He gave a little start as he recognised Myrtile. Except +for a careless thought when he had first awakened, +he had forgotten all about her. It was characteristic +of him, however, to behave during the next few minutes +as though he had been thinking of no one else.</p> + +<p>“So Christopher has been stealing a march on me!” +he exclaimed. “Has he shown you all the sights, Myrtile?”</p> + +<p>“I waited a long time for you,” she replied. “We +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>have been sitting on the Terrace. Monsieur Christopher +thought that you would come there.”</p> + +<p>“And Myrtile has been a little troublesome,” Christopher +said. “She is going back to her rooms to hide +because of her clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Clothes?” Gerald repeated. “Why, of course she +must have clothes. We ought to have thought of that +when we brought her away.”</p> + +<p>“But, monsieur,” she began timidly, “even the +clothes which I have at home—my communion +gown——”</p> + +<p>Gerald waved his arm.</p> + +<p>“Come along,” he invited. “We will transform you. +What a joke!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, monsieur!” Myrtile cried, with glistening eyes.</p> + +<p>“I suggest,” Christopher intervened, “that if we are +going to buy her a frock we go to one of those shops +higher up in the town.”</p> + +<p>Gerald waved aside the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“We will go to Lénore’s,” he said. “Madame Lénore +is a great pal of mine. Myrtile, you shall have +clothes fit for a duchess.”</p> + +<p>“Then they would not be fit for me,” Myrtile objected +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Nor, I should think,” Christopher added, “would +they help her to obtain a situation.”</p> + +<p>Gerald, however, would listen to no remonstrances. +He ushered them into a quiet but sumptuous-looking +little establishment, only a few doors from the Hôtel de +Paris. A Frenchwoman, dark and attractive, came +forward to welcome them. As soon as she recognised +Gerald, the conventional smile became one of real welcome.</p> + +<p>“Ah, monsieur—milord!” she exclaimed. “It is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>good to see you again! Her ladyship was here only +three days ago. I ventured to ask if you were to be +expected. Milord does me a great honour by this visit. +Will you please to sit down?”</p> + +<p>“Madame,” Gerald declared, “I am here on business. +We have with us a princess—the Princess Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>“A princess?” Madame repeated, with a wondering +glance at the girl.</p> + +<p>“A princess in everything but clothes,” Gerald explained. +“That is your part. We hand her over to +you. Dress her, Madame. We will return in an hour.”</p> + +<p>Madame’s eyes sparkled. To the real Frenchwoman, +every feeling gives way when it becomes a question of +profit. She looked at Myrtile appraisingly.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle will be worth dressing,” she assured +them joyfully. “Return, as you say, in an hour, milord, +and I can promise that mademoiselle shall be all +that you would desire.”</p> + +<p>Christopher for the first time intervened.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Gerald,” he said, “I don’t think that +you are giving Madame quite the right idea.”</p> + +<p>“In what respect?”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle is the daughter of working folk,” +Christopher explained. “She requires clothes of good +quality, if you will, but clothes in which she can seek a +situation. That is so, is it not, Myrtile?”</p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes were fixed anxiously upon Gerald.</p> + +<p>“I should like to have what Monsieur Gerald would +wish me to have,” she replied.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle has a figure so fashionable,” Madame +Lénore murmured, “so slim yet so elegant, and an expression +altogether spirituelle. I have some frocks only +this morning arrived from Paris, in which she would +seem a dream.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>“We do not desire mademoiselle to become a dream,” +Christopher said stoutly. “We have the charge of her +for a short time only, and the sort of toilette which you +have in your mind, I think, Madame Lénore, would be +highly unsuitable. Am I not right, Gerald?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I suppose so,” the young man agreed. “I’d +rather like to see her in one of Madame Lénore’s creations, +though.”</p> + +<p>“Milord and monsieur,” Madame said, “leave it to +me. Return in an hour. There shall be two costumes +ready. You shall take your choice. If mademoiselle +will have the goodness to step this way——”</p> + +<p>The two young men wandered out. They made their +way back to the Terrace, where Lord Hinterleys walked +for a time, leaning on Gerald’s arm. Mary drew Christopher +on one side.</p> + +<p>“So that is your little protégée,” she remarked.</p> + +<p>“That is she,” Christopher admitted.</p> + +<p>“I do not wish to seem a prude,” Mary continued, +“or anything else disagreeable, but do you really think +that you are doing the right thing, Christopher, in sitting +about on the Terrace with a peasant girl dressed—er—according +to her position? The whole escapade, +I think, is ridiculous. I am not so surprised at +Gerald but I am surprised at you.”</p> + +<p>Christopher was conscious of some irritation. He +liked and admired Lady Mary, but it seemed to him +that her attitude was a little unsympathetic.</p> + +<p>“I can quite understand the whole incident seeming +ill-advised,” he admitted, “but, looking back at it, I +honestly cannot see what else we could have done.”</p> + +<p>“You could have left the girl where she was,” Mary +insisted.</p> + +<p>Christopher shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>“You didn’t see her,” he replied. “No one could +have left her. When I think of what we saw in her face, +even now I am inclined to shiver.”</p> + +<p>“Is she different, then, from other girls faced with an +uncomfortable home situation?”</p> + +<p>“I think that what I am going to say may sound +absurd,” Christopher admitted, “but she is different. +She may be only a peasant by birth, but she has a soul.”</p> + +<p>“Really!” his companion murmured.</p> + +<p>“No actress could have simulated the horror we saw +shining out of her face,” he persisted. “I don’t think +that I should ever have thought of bringing her away—it +was Gerald who did that—but I think that he +was right, and I should never consent to sending her +back unless she were willing to go.”</p> + +<p>“And exactly what do you two young men propose to +do with her, then?” Mary enquired. “The girl is very +attractive. You are aware, I suppose, that the situation +lends itself to misconstruction?”</p> + +<p>He looked at her reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“I suppose there are very few of our actions which +might not be misinterpreted in one way or another,” he +replied.</p> + +<p>She accepted the challenge of his eyes, looking him +squarely in the face.</p> + +<p>“It is not you I am so much afraid of,” she said. +“It is Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“But you don’t believe——” he began.</p> + +<p>“I believe that Gerald’s intentions are always good,” +she interrupted; “he is capable, even, of idealism. On +the other hand, he is fatally weak, especially where +women are concerned. I fancy,” she went on, “you will +find that you have assumed a dual responsibility, and I +fancy, too, that some day you will be sorry for it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>They slackened their pace. Just ahead, Gerald and +his father had met two women, old friends, with whom +they were exchanging greetings. Lord Hinterleys was +talking with the elder; Gerald to her daughter. The +slight air of boredom, which the latter so often wore, +had completely disappeared. He was leaning towards +the girl tenderly, almost affectionately. His eyes were +holding hers, he was talking earnestly and apparently +with conviction. Lady Mary touched her companion’s +arm.</p> + +<p>“That is the Gerald whom you have to fear,” she +said. “You might trust him in any other walk of life, +but, although he is my own brother, I don’t believe that +he has a grain of conscience where women are concerned. +He doesn’t care about that girl, she is not the sort of +person he ever would care for, yet she will go back to +lunch to-day convinced that she has made a conquest, +thinking of what he has said to her, and finding every +one else’s manner and words ordinary. Gerald has the +spirit of the philanderer in his blood. If the girl attracts +him sufficiently, you, at any rate—and probably +he—will be sorry you did not leave her to her +village lover.”</p> + +<p>“You have described Gerald correctly when you +called him a philanderer,” Christopher admitted. “I +put myself in court, and on his behalf I plead guilty to +the charge. On the other hand, I have greater faith +in his kindness of heart and his sense of honour than +you seem to have. This child is helpless and innocent. +For that reason I believe that she will be as safe with +Gerald as with me.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary sighed. The look of trouble still lingered +in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“I hope that you may be right,” she said. “I am +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>not a superstitious person, but I have some sort of +foreboding about that child. I feel that she is going +to bring trouble, somehow or other.—In any case, let +us change the subject. The Rushmores have arrived +and want some tennis. Shall we play—say—Wednesday +afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“Delighted!” Christopher assented, already pleasantly +conscious of a changing atmosphere.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is a fact that when the two young men reëntered +the establishment of Madame Lénore, they both failed +utterly to recognise the girl who was standing in a distant +corner, talking to the proprietress. It was not +until she detached herself and came hesitatingly up to +them that they realised, with varying sensations, who +she was. Gerald laughed with pleasure and held out +both his hands. Christopher’s admiration was tempered +with a certain amount of distinct disapprobation.</p> + +<p>“Well, what does milord think?” Madame demanded.</p> + +<p>“My congratulations!” Gerald replied enthusiastically. +“My dear Myrtile, I wonder if you realise how +charming you are?”</p> + +<p>The girl looked shyly up at Gerald, her face soft and +eloquent with pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle, like that, can go anywhere,” Madame +continued. “She can lunch, if you will, with a +prince at the Hôtel de Paris, spend the afternoon at +the Sporting Club, or attend the reception which the +Spanish Ambassador is giving this afternoon. She is +absolutely correct and in the latest môde.”</p> + +<p>The two young men still contemplated their charge. +She was clad in a fine white serge costume, trimmed +with silver braid. Her lace blouse was delicately filmy +and transparent, the cut of her skirt as scanty as the +last word from Paris had decreed; her white silk stockings +and suède shoes, procured from a neighbouring establishment, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>irreproachable; her large hat, a gossamer-like +confection of tulle and lace. Of the charm of her +appearance there could be no possible question, but, in +exact proportion with Gerald’s satisfaction, Christopher’s +disapproval seemed to grow.</p> + +<p>“I do not criticise your clothes, Madame, or your +taste,” he said, “but we have given you the wrong +idea. Mademoiselle is in search of a situation. She is +a working girl for whose future as a working girl my +friend and I are anxious to provide. Those clothes are +entirely unsuitable.”</p> + +<p>Christopher’s words fell like a bombshell in the little +establishment. Myrtile’s eyes slowly filled with tears. +Gerald was frankly angry. Madame shrugged her +shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I did not understand that the position of mademoiselle +debarred her from being dressed becomingly,” +she said, a little drily. “In any case, it is a great waste +not to give mademoiselle the advantage of charming +clothes. Her figure—why, it is adorable; of her complexion +and carriage you can judge for yourselves. +Mademoiselle, dressed as she is now, and with one or +two evening gowns which I have in my mind, would make +the sensation of the season in Monte Carlo.”</p> + +<p>“And what good would that be to her?” Christopher +demanded. “Mademoiselle has need to earn her +living, and to earn it honourably.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Chris,” Gerald interrupted, “you’re +taking this thing too seriously. We know very well +that Myrtile must be found something to do later on, +but in the meantime she may as well have a little fun. +Can’t you see for yourself how wonderful she is? She +will puzzle the whole of Monte Carlo for a week.”</p> + +<p>“And after then?” Christopher asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>Gerald turned impatiently away. Madame held up +a wonderful confection of white lace and silk.</p> + +<p>“This is what I figure to myself for mademoiselle’s +first evening frock,” she said,—“this and a hat of +black lace, with a string of pearls which I could perhaps +borrow. I promise you that she would make a sensation +you do not dream of.”</p> + +<p>“It is not our wish that she make a sensation of +this sort,” Christopher persisted harshly. “It appears +to me that you both wish to provide the child——”</p> + +<p>He stopped short. Gerald’s eyes were filled with sudden +fire; the girl was trembling.</p> + +<p>“You’re talking like an ass, Christopher,” Gerald +declared. “This is my affair.”</p> + +<p>“It is nothing of the sort,” Christopher rejoined +stubbornly. “It is our affair. I claim an equal right +in disposing of Myrtile, and I will not have her decked +out in these clothes. What we need for her is a plain +blue serge suit and a small hat. She will always look +charming, she will always be attractive, but nothing in +her future walk of life justifies our arraying her in +clothes like these.”</p> + +<p>Madame shrugged her shoulders more disparagingly +than ever.</p> + +<p>“It is as milord and monsieur desire, of course,” she +said. “I can provide such garments as monsieur describes.”</p> + +<p>Gerald looked at Myrtile once more. The admiration +in his eyes this time, at any rate, was absolutely +genuine.</p> + +<p>“I can’t see the harm in having the child properly +turned out for, say, one week,” he protested, turning to +Christopher.</p> + +<p>“And at the end of that week, what?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>There was a deadly directness about Christopher’s +gaze. Gerald, although there was no definitely formed +thought of evil in his mind, avoided it.</p> + +<p>“If you are proposing to marry Myrtile,” Christopher +continued, “then the clothes you have selected are +suitable. Unless you have made up your mind to do +that, I beg that Madame will show us something different.”</p> + +<p>There was a somewhat hectic silence for several moments. +Frenchwoman though she was, and full of tact, +Madame Lénore could scarcely conceal her contempt +for the crudeness of this puritanical Englishman. +Myrtile herself felt as though a dream of Paradise were +fading away. Gerald, because he was good fellow +enough at heart, felt further insistence impossible. He +was quite content to drift into danger; he was not +casuist enough to evade a plain warning.</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose we shall have to let this disagreeable +fellow have his way,” he declared. “Take her +along, Madame, and see what you can do. You hear +my friend’s idea—plain blue serge buttoned up to the +throat, cashmere stockings and square-toed shoes.”</p> + +<p>“There will be a compromise,” Madame declared +firmly.—“And for the rest, little one, do not trouble +too much,” she whispered, as she led Myrtile away. “I +shall keep these clothes just as they are, until the other +gentleman has made up his mind to meddle no longer. +Come to me when you are ready. I can make you look +so that milord will take notice of no other woman.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile’s eyes were swimming with tears.</p> + +<p>“It was just for him that I wanted to keep these +clothes,” she said. “I wanted him to take me out and +to feel that I looked like other girls. As for Monsieur +Christopher, I detest him!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>“Mademoiselle has reason,” the woman murmured. +“He has not the chic of milord. It is a pity that he +should interfere. Perhaps later on milord will bring +you here without him.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile’s eyes shone. Reluctantly she stretched out +her arms and felt the dress slip away from her.</p> + +<p>In the showroom outside, neither of the two young +men was particularly disposed for conversation. +Christopher felt a distinct return of his first apprehension +concerning Gerald’s attitude towards Myrtile, +whilst Gerald himself was conscious of a vague sense +of resentment at his friend’s interference, the more +poignant, perhaps, because of its wisdom. Anything +in the nature of an explanation between the two was +rendered impossible by the smallness of the room and +the presence of the shop assistants. So Gerald contented +himself with lighting a cigarette, while Christopher +studied a book of fashions. Suddenly an event +happened which created a new atmosphere in the little +place. Gerald relinquished his cigarette, Christopher +laid down his volume of fashions, the shop assistants +and mannequins, figuratively speaking, stood to attention. +The manageress came hastening forward. An +automobile had stopped outside, a footman had thrown +open the door, Madame and Mademoiselle de Ponière +entered. The latter was simply enough, though richly +dressed, and she entered the shop with the air of one +conferring a peculiar honour upon the establishment. +She carried a little Pekinese dog under her arm; the +footman remained standing outside as though on guard. +The greeting of the manageress was almost reverential.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle desires to see our new models?”</p> + +<p>The newcomer glanced half unconsciously towards +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>the two young men, who had risen to their feet. Then +she passed on, followed by the older woman, to the +most distant corner of the room. It appeared that she +wished to look at hats, and the whole establishment +seemed at once infected with an eager desire to serve +her. Hats were produced on every side, and passed +from hand to hand with an air of deep anxiety. Mademoiselle, +however, it transpired was not easy to please. +She sat watching the various confections which were +produced for her inspection, with an air of tolerant indifference. +Gerald moved to the side of the bookkeeper, +who alone remained at her place behind the little +desk.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” he whispered, “who is that young lady?”</p> + +<p>“She appears in our books, milord, under the name +of Mademoiselle de Ponière,” was the discreet reply.</p> + +<p>“But what is her real name?” Gerald persisted. +“Who are her friends? Is it possible to make her acquaintance?”</p> + +<p>The woman looked at him with a slight smile. She +had a tired and rather faded face, and her hair was +lined with grey.</p> + +<p>“One hears only rumours as to whom she may be,” +she answered. “For the rest, milord should apply to +Madame herself.”</p> + +<p>Gerald waited for Madame’s reappearance with a +new impatience. Presently Myrtile came out to them +once more. The transformation was still amazing, but +the blue serge costume was absolutely plain except for +its thick edging of braid, and the little toque, with its +dark blue quill, absolutely free from ornamentation. +Yet it seemed almost incredible that this graceful girl +who came towards them a little shyly but with perfect +self-possession should indeed be the peasant child who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>had been under their care for rather less than twenty-four +hours.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle is transformed,” Madame Lénore declared. +“She has natural elegance. In the simplest +clothes I could give her, she would still create an impression. +I have done my best, milord and monsieur. +I trust that you are satisfied?”</p> + +<p>“Entirely,” Gerald assented. “But, Madame Lénore, +I want a word with you.”</p> + +<p>“If milord would excuse me for one moment,” +Madame begged, with a glance towards the further end +of the shop. “One of my most valued clients has arrived.”</p> + +<p>Gerald drew her on one side. Myrtile glanced a little +anxiously into Christopher’s face.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Gerald does not seem satisfied,” she complained. +“He has no longer any pleasure in looking at +me. He does not like me in these clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” Christopher replied. “Believe me, +they are far more suitable than the others.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile was still not altogether satisfied.</p> + +<p>“They are very wonderful,” she acknowledged, looking +at herself in the glass, “and I am very, very grateful, +but when I came before, his whole face seemed +alight with pleasure, and this time he scarcely took any +notice of me at all.”</p> + +<p>“There is something else on his mind,” Christopher +assured her. “I am certain that he is satisfied.”</p> + +<p>Gerald found Madame Lénore quite obdurate.</p> + +<p>“It is impossible, milord,” she declared firmly. +“With many of my clients, yes. There would be no +cause for hesitation. But to present you to mademoiselle +would be impossible. She would not respond. +She would never pardon the liberty.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>“Then will you tell me who her friends are?” he +persisted. “Let me know, at least, where I should be +likely to meet her?”</p> + +<p>Madame’s manner had lost much of its amiability. +She seemed genuinely worried.</p> + +<p>“Milord,” she said, “none of these things are possible.”</p> + +<p>“But who is she, then?”</p> + +<p>Madame Lénore turned away.</p> + +<p>“No one knows,” she answered under her breath. +“It is not for us to know. Milord will excuse me.”</p> + +<p>Gerald rejoined his companions with a cloud upon his +handsome face. Myrtile watched him timidly.</p> + +<p>“You do not approve of these clothes?” she ventured.</p> + +<p>“I approve of them so much,” Gerald announced, +pulling himself together with an effort, “that I am +going to take you to Ciro’s to lunch. Come along, +Christopher. Madame Lénore is a disobliging old cat.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> two women sat on the terrace of their wistaria-covered +villa,—Madame de Ponière hunched up in her +chair, smoking a cigarette through a long tube; Pauline, +her reputed niece, her coffee and cigarette alike neglected, +gazing fixedly seawards. Their immediate environment +suggested at once a taste for luxury and the +means to gratify it. The linen and silver on the little +table at which they had just lunched was of the finest +possible quality,—the former lace-bordered and +adorned with a coronet. A bowl of pink roses occupied +the centre of the table. The coffee had been served in +little cups of the finest Sèvres china. In the background, +a single servant was standing, dressed in plain +black livery, a man grey-haired and with lined face, +but tall and of powerful build. He possessed to the full +the immobility of feature of the trained English servant, +but there was something entirely foreign in his sphinx-like +attitude and expression. He had the air of one +who neither saw nor heard save at his mistress’s orders.</p> + +<p>“I am weary of everything here except the sun,” +Pauline declared deliberately.</p> + +<p>The woman opposite knocked the ash from her +cigarette. Hers was an aged and withered face, but +her black eyes were still full of life and fire. Her long, +thin hand, on which flashed several strangely set rings, +was suddenly extended towards the waiting servant. +Without a word he bowed and disappeared.</p> + +<p>“One must wait,” Madame de Ponière declared.</p> + +<p>“For what?” the girl asked lazily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>The older woman’s eyes glittered for a moment.</p> + +<p>“For what will surely come,” she declared. “The +portents are all there. The writing is no longer upon +the wall—it blazes to the sky.”</p> + +<p>“And meanwhile,” Pauline murmured, “the sun +shines, my heart beats in tune to it, and I feel all the +time the weariness of the days.”</p> + +<p>“It is the insurgence of youth,” the older woman +conceded indulgently. “I suppose the greatest must +feel it some day.”</p> + +<p>“There was a girl in the dressmaker’s shop,” Pauline +went on. “The good Madame Lénore amused me by +speaking of her. She is a peasant, it seems, picked up +on the road by two young Englishmen and brought here +for the first time in her life only yesterday. These +young men have amused themselves by decking her out +in the clothes of another class. The girl is beautiful, +and she sees fairyland everywhere. She is in love with +one of the young men, of course. One could see that +in her face.”</p> + +<p>“A very ordinary affair,” the older woman observed. +“What of it?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing except that I rather envy the girl.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière’s black eyes glistened dangerously.</p> + +<p>“It would be easy to change places with her,” she +said coldly. “You are probably as beautiful, and the +trifle of breeding you possess might be considered an +asset.”</p> + +<p>Pauline smiled, and her face was at once more attractive +than ever. There were little creases about her +soft brown eyes, her mouth lost its discontented curve +and became at once tremulous and gentle.</p> + +<p>“It is an encouraging thought,” she murmured, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>“especially as the young man whom the girl appears to +fancy has already endeavoured to make my acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“It is the worst of this place,” Madame de Ponière +declared, a little viciously. “The men are all <i>boulevardiers</i>. +<i>Canaille!</i>”</p> + +<p>“The young man in question happens to be an aristocrat,” +Pauline observed, her eyes fixed upon the adjoining +villa.</p> + +<p>“The more reason for care,” the woman muttered.</p> + +<p>Pauline sighed.</p> + +<p>“I might perhaps save him from the peasant girl. +They tell me that these young Englishmen often regard +an intrigue of this sort differently from our own people. +He might even be led to marry her. He looks like a +man of weak character.”</p> + +<p>The older woman thrust another cigarette into her +tube and lit it. She inhaled with the long, regular +breaths of the confirmed smoker. Her delicately shaped +but talon-like fingers were stained with nicotine.</p> + +<p>“Zubin arrives this week,” she announced.</p> + +<p>Pauline yawned.</p> + +<p>“More mysteries,” she murmured, “more false hopes, +more exaggerated stories. Nothing good will come of +Zubin’s visit but the money he brings, unless by any +chance he has news of Stepan.—Meanwhile, dear +Madame, I bore myself. I rather wish that I had been +born an American.”</p> + +<p>The woman showed no sign of anger, yet somehow +or other she seemed to diffuse an atmosphere of contempt.</p> + +<p>“It is perhaps a pity,” she admitted, “that you are +descended from one of the greatest rulers the world +has ever known. It is perhaps a pity.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>“Give me something to rule over,” the girl declared, +“and I will be repentant—the souls and liberties of +a few million people, or the hearts of a few men. I am +twenty-three years old and the sun is warm. And then +there is the music, our one resource when there is no +money to gamble with. What is the use of music, +Madame, to one who lives behind the bars? It simply +makes one pull at them a little harder. I am as badly +off as Stepan himself, who loves me from behind the +fortress walls. Sometimes I wish that I were there +with him.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière reached for an ivory-topped +stick and rose to her feet. Almost as though by magic, +from somewhere within the dim, cool recesses of the +room beyond, the grey-haired manservant was by her +side. She leaned upon his arm.</p> + +<p>“We drive at four o’clock, Pauline,” she said. +“Afterwards, we will watch the play at the Sporting +Club.”</p> + +<p>Pauline shrugged her shoulders. It was the same +yesterday afternoon, and every day behind. It would +probably be the same to-morrow,—the same for her, +but not for that peasant girl. For her there was no +stereotyped routine. She looked intently across the +narrow gorge towards that other villa. A two-seated +car had turned in from the road and was crawling up +the winding avenue. She stretched out her hand for +the field glasses which lay on the table by her side. The +young man at the wheel was the young man at whom +the peasant girl had looked.</p> + +<p>Pauline rose to her feet. Almost as mysteriously as +the manservant had appeared a few moments before, a +black-robed maid hastened towards her. Pauline shook +her head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>“This afternoon I do not wish to rest,” she decided. +“I shall walk in the gardens.”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle desires that I shall attend her?” the +maid asked.</p> + +<p>Her mistress hesitated.</p> + +<p>“I desire to be alone,” she announced.</p> + +<p>Pauline descended the stone steps, crossed the drive, +and plunged into a narrow footpath which wound its +way through a plantation of stunted but sweet-smelling +pine trees, downwards towards the sea. The path was +not an easy one, and Pauline’s shoes were scarcely designed +for such an adventure. Nevertheless, she persevered. +She had almost to push her way through a +grove of oleanders, and to wrap her skirts carefully +around her as she passed between some spiky cactus +trees. As last, however, she gained her end. She stood +upon the little strip of sand, besprinkled with rocks, +which bordered the sea. Only a few yards away the +shimmering blue water rocked towards the land in little +wavelets. She turned and looked back. The villa from +which she had come seemed like a doll’s house shining +out of its sheltering clump of cypresses. More directly +above her now was the far more extensive residence of +Lord Hinterleys. She looked towards it searchingly. +There were several people upon the broad verandah, +amongst them the slim figure of a young man at its +farther edge, gazing intently in her direction. She +smiled a little as she picked her steps across the yellow +sand to the edge of the sea and clambered on to a rock. +There was a breeze here which she had scarcely anticipated. +For the first time she realised that she was +bareheaded, ungloved,—she to whom usualness in all +things was almost an instilled religion. A queer fit of +heedlessness, however, was upon her. She stood upon +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>the top of the slippery rock, finding a strange pleasure +in the salt-laden air and the wind which brought a +thousand ripples of light to the trembling blue sea, +which blew her skirts about, and even brought disarrangement +to her smoothly bound hair. This tempering +of the sunshine brought a new joy to its warmth. +She stood there basking in a purely sensuous pleasure, +forgetful for a moment of the depression of the morning. +The sound of tumbling stones in the little gorge +behind scarcely disturbed her. It was not until she +heard footsteps upon the strip of beach that she turned +her head. Coming towards her, already only a few +yards away, was a young man of personable appearance +and unwontedly determined expression. For once +in his life, Gerald had made up his mind.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span>, although he was in reality brimful of confidence +in all his relations with the other sex, had sometimes +a not altogether unattractive appearance of shyness. +He stood bareheaded for a moment, looking up +at Pauline.</p> + +<p>“I am so sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I was +looking for my sister. I know this is a favourite place +of hers, and when I saw you standing there I rather +jumped to the conclusion that you must be she.”</p> + +<p>“Really?” Pauline replied. “Are we so much alike, +then?”</p> + +<p>“Not in the least,” he declared frankly.</p> + +<p>“That seems to make your explanation a little insufficient, +does it not?” Pauline remarked.</p> + +<p>Gerald settled down to business.</p> + +<p>“I know that I ought to have turned back,” he said, +“but, after all, wasn’t it much more natural of me to +come on? I have been trying, ever since I first saw +you, to get some one to introduce me—we are, after +all, as I have just discovered, to my great delight, +neighbours—and this is the Riviera, not Berkeley +Square. May I tell you that my name is Gerald Dombey, +that my father and sister have the villa up there, +and that, from the moment I saw you, I have been +anxious to make your acquaintance?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him in silence for a moment, half critically, +half thoughtfully. There was nothing absolutely +discouraging in her attitude, and yet Gerald somehow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>conceived the idea that this might not, after all, be so +easy an affair as he had hoped.</p> + +<p>“Are you used to enlarging your acquaintance in +this manner?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I very seldom feel the desire to do so,” he assured +her. “Don’t be annoyed, please. I am really quite a +respectable person. I will call upon your aunt, if she +will give me permission.”</p> + +<p>For the first time Pauline smiled. It was rather a +cold smile, but the fact that it was a smile at all was +encouraging.</p> + +<p>“I fancy that you had better dismiss that suggestion +from your mind altogether,” she said. “My aunt does +not receive here, and she certainly would not welcome +you as a caller.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” Gerald enquired, a little perturbed.</p> + +<p>“Because you are a young man,” Pauline replied. +“There are two things which my aunt dreads more than +anything else in life,—a bad throat for herself, and +young men for me.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how she can hope to keep young men +away from you altogether,” Gerald declared. “You +don’t mind my saying, do you, that you are the sort of +girl whom young men would want to know?”</p> + +<p>Her smile returned. She even laughed slightly, +showing some very wonderful teeth.</p> + +<p>“Really, you are a most singular person,” she observed. +“Do all young Englishmen talk to casual acquaintances +in this unrestrained fashion?”</p> + +<p>Gerald was puzzled. Pauline was not altogether falling +into line with the conclusions he had arrived at concerning +her.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I am very different from the +others,” he said. “Tell me, what is your nationality?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>“Why should I tell you anything about myself?” +she asked, a little coldly.</p> + +<p>“It appeared to me that it might—er—help our +acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“Have I acknowledged the acquaintance?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you are talking to me, anyhow,” he pointed +out, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I scarcely see how I could help it,” she replied. +“If you are really curious about my nationality, I +will tell you that I have some French blood in my veins. +France, however, is not my native country.”</p> + +<p>“And you live—where?”</p> + +<p>“Nowhere,” she answered, a little sadly. “At present +we are wanderers—what you call in England adventurers.”</p> + +<p>Gerald raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“That is scarcely the word,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>“My aunt has a curious objection to meeting people +upon our travels,” Pauline continued. “I myself find +her aloofness sometimes a little tedious. That is why +I am misbehaving to the extent of letting you talk to +me.”</p> + +<p>“Your aunt seems a very difficult person,” Gerald +sighed. “I don’t see why I can’t make her acquaintance +and ask you both out to dine.”</p> + +<p>“Do not think of such things!” the girl enjoined +hastily. “Before I say another word to you, promise +me that you do not present yourself at the Villa or +give any indication of knowing me, if we should meet at +the Club or anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“But why on earth not?” Gerald demanded. “If +your aunt is such a stickler for propriety, surely I can +find some one to present me?”</p> + +<p>“If you do not promise me what I ask,” she threatened, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>holding her skirts in one hand and looking as +though prepared to jump down from the rock, “I +shall leave you at once.”</p> + +<p>“I promise, of course,” he assented. “Meanwhile, +may I be allowed to ask, as between us two,—do I +know you or do I not?”</p> + +<p>“We are complete strangers,” she declared.</p> + +<p>“Accept my profound apologies for addressing you,” +Gerald begged, with a low bow.</p> + +<p>Pauline reflected for a moment.</p> + +<p>“As a matter of propriety,” she said, “you certainly +ought to leave me at once. As a matter of fact, +I was about to propose something else.”</p> + +<p>“Let me hear it, at any rate,” he insisted.</p> + +<p>“I watched you drive up to your father’s villa in +your car. Will you take me a little way in it?”</p> + +<p>“Rather!” he assented eagerly. “Where shall I +pick you up?”</p> + +<p>“Outside the Villa gates,” she replied. “My aunt +is absolutely certain to sleep for two hours. It is the +only liberty I have during the day. Please go at once +and fetch the car.”</p> + +<p>She dismissed him with an imperative wave of the +hand. As soon as he was out of sight, she jumped +down from the rock, crossed the little strip of sand, +and commenced her leisurely ascent to the Villa. Once +or twice she laughed softly to herself.</p> + +<p>It was an excursion which Gerald pondered on many +times afterwards. Pauline had settled down in the low +bucket seat by his side and leaned back with an air of +absolute content. She had, in fact, the appearance of +one enjoying a rare pleasure. As soon as Gerald slackened +speed, however, with the idea of entering into conversation, +she became curt and almost rude, and his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>proposition that they might take the higher road and +have tea at Nice she promptly negatived. When, after +an absence of about an hour and a half, they drew up +at the gates of the Villa, she left him with the merest +nod of farewell.</p> + +<p>“You will come for another ride soon—perhaps to-morrow?” +he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I can make no plans,” she replied. “I should think +it very improbable. I thank you so much for your +kindness. Your car is quite wonderful.”</p> + +<p>She walked away with the air of one who has conferred +a great favour. Gerald drove slowly back to +the Villa d’Acacia and joined his sister on the terrace.</p> + +<p>“Do you know anything about the two women at +the next villa, Mary?” he asked.</p> + +<p>She looked up from her novel doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“One never knows one’s neighbours here,” she answered. +“I saw them driving, the other day—a +strange-looking old lady and a very good-looking girl. +Isn’t there something queer about them, or is it my +fancy?”</p> + +<p>“There is something unusual,” Gerald replied. +“They seem curiously indisposed to forming acquaintances, +which is odd in a place like this. I happened to +be talking to the younger woman for a few minutes. +She gave me the impression, somehow, that they were +people of greater consequence than their manner of +living here would indicate.”</p> + +<p>“I expect I am uncharitable,” Mary observed. “An +elderly lady with no friends, who takes a rather beautiful +young woman about with her to public places, does +certainly invite comment, doesn’t she? Tell me about +your little protégée?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>“We lunched with her, Chris and I,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>“Goodness gracious! Where?”</p> + +<p>“At Ciro’s. We bought her some clothes at Lénore’s, +this morning.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary lit a cigarette and threw down her +book.</p> + +<p>“I am not the guardian of your morals, Gerald,” +she observed drily; “a girl, nowadays, has all she can +do to look after her own—but I honestly think you +ought to send that child back to her people.”</p> + +<p>“Too brutal,” he replied. “They wanted to marry +her to some horrible old man.”</p> + +<p>“Whatever the position was, your interference was +most uncalled for,” his sister declared. “As for Christopher, +I am really surprised at him. Where is he this +afternoon, by-the-by?”</p> + +<p>“I left him with Myrtile,” Gerald replied. “You’d +better talk to him. He’s been lecturing me all the time—kicked +up a row, even, because I wanted to buy the +child pretty clothes.”</p> + +<p>The butler came out on to the terrace.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rushmore has telephoned from the tennis club, +my lord, to know if you and her ladyship will make up +a set. They are waiting now for a reply.”</p> + +<p>Mary rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>“I am all for it, if you can, Gerald,” she declared.</p> + +<p>“Tell Mr. Rushmore that we’ll be down as soon as +we can change,” Gerald directed the butler. “You +needn’t order a car. I’ll run you round in the coupé, +Mary.”</p> + +<p>“Shan’t be ten minutes,” his sister promised.</p> + +<p>On their way up the hill, they passed Christopher +and Myrtile. Gerald rather enjoyed his sister’s look +of amazement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>“Doesn’t she look a topper!” he remarked, as he +turned to wave his hand.</p> + +<p>“She has an amazing flair for wearing clothes,” Mary +admitted drily. “I think you two young men ought to +be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves for what you are +doing, and I shall just look forward to an opportunity +of telling Christopher so.”</p> + +<p>Gerald glanced at his sister’s profile and chuckled.</p> + +<p>“Good old Chris!” he murmured. “I’ll let him +know what’s coming to him!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Myrtile</span> was suddenly tired. She seated herself +upon the trunk of a tree, and Christopher followed her +example. Below them stretched the motley panorama +of Monte Carlo, the wide bay and the glittering sea. +The hillside and all the country within sight was dotted +with villas. There was one especially, overhanging the +sea, towards which she gazed wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” she said, “that I have not seen +Monsieur Gerald for three days?”</p> + +<p>“He has been busy,” Christopher answered shortly.</p> + +<p>“Busy?” she queried.</p> + +<p>“He plays golf and tennis every day. Then his +father and sister take up a good deal of his time.”</p> + +<p>“You always find time to come and see me every +morning,” she said. “Besides—it was not his sister +with whom I saw him motoring yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“You must remember,” Christopher reminded her, +“that Gerald had many friends before you came here.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” she answered. “I cannot hope to count +for very much. But why cannot he be at least kind +like you? If only he knew how long the days seem when +I do not even catch a glimpse of him!”</p> + +<p>Christopher braced himself for an effort.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” he began, “you know that I am fond of +you.”</p> + +<p>“You have been very kind,” she answered listlessly.</p> + +<p>“Because I want to be kind, I am going to say things +that may sound harsh,” he went on. “You are a very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>foolish girl to waste your time thinking and dreaming +of Gerald. You should only let your thoughts dwell +upon one man continually when there is some chance in +the end that that man may become your husband.”</p> + +<p>Her listlessness passed. She settled down to the subject +seriously.</p> + +<p>“But, Monsieur Christopher——”</p> + +<p>“Christopher,” he interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Christopher, then—you ask me to do what I +plainly see no one else does. Wherever you have taken +me here—wherever we go—there are men and women +together who are fond of one another. One only needs +to look at them to see it. It is so in the restaurants, +in the gardens where we sit, in the cafés. I have seen +love in the eyes of many girls since I have been +here. They do not all expect to marry the men they are +with.”</p> + +<p>Christopher leaned over and laid his hand upon hers.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile dear, will you listen to me?” he begged. +“Look at me for a moment. I am twenty-six years old. +I have lived in cities as well as the country. In London +I am what you call an <i>avocat</i>. I have to use my brains +every day, I have to understand my fellow creatures. +Will you get that into your head?”</p> + +<p>“It is not difficult,” she assured him, with a little +smile. “I think you are very clever, and you know +many, many things.”</p> + +<p>“And as for you, Myrtile,” Christopher went on, +“when one thinks of your upbringing, it is amazing to +realise how much you have read, how much you know. +But listen to me. Nothing that one reads can teach one +what life is like. You spent many hours wondering +what was at the end of the road. You think now, because +you have passed over the hill, that you are there. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>My dear, you are not even at the beginning of the +way.”</p> + +<p>She plucked some grasses and twined them round her +fingers.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“This is not life that you watch day by day. Mostly +it is a very garish imitation of it. And in the same +way, that light which you see is not always love. It is +sometimes a very unworthy imitation of it.”</p> + +<p>“They seem very happy,” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“They are not happy—they are only gay,” Christopher +insisted. “Sometimes they are only pretending +to be gay. Sometimes their pretence comes from very +unworthy motives. There are dancing girls who smile +upon a king, but there is no love in the matter.”</p> + +<p>“You mean that these people who seem so happy are +not in earnest?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I mean that if they are in earnest,” he explained, +“it is only for the moment. It is a sham earnestness +which spoils the real thing when it comes. What you +see here is not life. It is not even a very wonderful +reflection of it. Mostly it is a little company of pleasure-seekers, +come to cast aside for a time the serious +side of life and gamble with their pleasures as they do +with their money.”</p> + +<p>“But some must be in earnest,” Myrtile protested.</p> + +<p>“One of them who is not in earnest is Gerald, and I +tell you so, although Gerald is my friend,” Christopher +said. “He is here to amuse himself, and he would prefer +to amuse himself without giving any one else pain. +If that is impossible, however, he is sufficiently reckless +not to count the cost where the other person is concerned.”</p> + +<p>She drew a little away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>“That does not sound like the speech of a friend,” +she reminded him reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“But I can assure you that I am his friend, although +a candid one,” Christopher declared. “All that +I have said to you, I have said to him, and a great deal +more. You will let me finish?”</p> + +<p>She made no reply. She had gathered herself up +into an attitude which in any one else would have been +ungraceful, her chin resting upon her hands, her back +curved. Her eyes were fixed upon the exact spot where +the sea seemed to melt into the clouds. The grace of +her slim body lent beauty even to the hunch of her +shoulders.</p> + +<p>“You are like a child who has been let out of a dark +room,” Christopher went on. “Everything seems +beautiful, but you don’t see clearly—your eyes aren’t +strong enough yet. What you imagine to be love is a +worse thing. Gerald does not love you. He can never +marry you. He belongs to that world at which you +are looking with blurred eyes.—Myrtile, how old were +you when your mother died?”</p> + +<p>“Ten years old.”</p> + +<p>“I thought so!” Christopher exclaimed, in despair. +“I am certain your mother was a good woman, Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>“I know she was,” Myrtile answered.</p> + +<p>“I wish to God she were alive!” he groaned. +“Myrtile, don’t you want to be good?”</p> + +<p>“I want to be happy,” Myrtile replied. “I shall +always be good.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know that?”</p> + +<p>“Because I am all good inside,” she said. “I +couldn’t do any of the things that wicked people do.”</p> + +<p>Christopher sat for a moment in puzzled thought.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>“Look here,” he went on, “if you love Gerald, and +Gerald doesn’t love you, and you are content with the +pretence of his love, and you go on loving him, and you +know that you cannot be his wife, then you are not good +any longer.”</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>“There is only once in my life,” she said, “that I +have ever come near sin, and that is when I thought of +staying at the farm and marrying Pierre Leschamps. +I love Gerald. All that I need to be happy and good +is that he should love me.”</p> + +<p>“But Gerald does not love you and never will,” +Christopher declared bluntly. “He is far too selfish. +At the present moment he takes some one else for a +motor ride every afternoon, and doesn’t get up in time +to come and see you in the mornings because he is entertaining +the young ladies of the Russian Ballet at +supper every night.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him sadly.</p> + +<p>“And you are his friend,” she reminded him again.</p> + +<p>“Dear, stupid little girl,” he said, “don’t you see +that because I am his friend, and because I am your +friend, and because I share the responsibility of having +brought you away, I insist upon your realising the +truth. Gerald, at the present moment, at any rate, +is incapable of a stable affection, and if he were capable +of it, his people would not allow him to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“I do not wish him to marry me,” she declared, with +a little choke in her voice.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not,” he replied. “In that case, you +should listen to me more patiently. I want you to +leave this place and go to some friends of mine in England.”</p> + +<p>“What, alone?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>“Alone.”</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Christopher,” she said, suddenly slipping her arm +through his, “I think you want to be kind to me. I +believe that you are very good—perhaps you are better +than Gerald. But so long as Gerald wants me +near, I shall stay. Even if he goes about with other +people, he thinks of me. He has told me so, and he has +promised to take me to one of those supper parties this +week. I am looking forward to it more than to anything +else in the world.”</p> + +<p>Christopher’s face hardened.</p> + +<p>“You will not go to one of those supper parties, +Myrtile,” he insisted. “I would rather take you back +to the farm.”</p> + +<p>She turned her head and looked at him. There was +something in her eyes from which he shrank,—something +very much like hate.</p> + +<p>“If you try to stop me,” she threatened, “I shall +hate you for ever.”</p> + +<p>She saw the pain in his face and she was suddenly remorseful. +She clung to his arm again. Her cheek almost +touched his.</p> + +<p>“Christopher—dear Christopher,” she pleaded, “I +did not mean to hurt you. I know how good you are, +but just think how wonderful it would be for me to go +with Gerald, to meet other girls, to laugh and talk, to +sit by his side, his guest, to dance, perhaps—oh, it +would be Paradise! Everybody else goes to parties, +Christopher.”</p> + +<p>“I will take you to the Opera,” he promised.</p> + +<p>Her eyes glowed.</p> + +<p>“It would be wonderful,” she murmured, “but you +must not prevent my going to the party.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>“Myrtile,” he pointed out, “the young women whom +you would meet there are not fit for you to know.”</p> + +<p>“But what harm can they do me?” she persisted. +“I know that they are not nice. I went to the hotel +for a few minutes with Annette last night—she had to +go and give her keys to her aunt—and in the distance +I saw Gerald, and I hated the people he was with. But +what does it matter? Gerald will take care of me.”</p> + +<p>Christopher rose to his feet. There was a certain +hopelessness about his task that he was slowly beginning +to realise.</p> + +<p>“Come,” he said, “it is time we went back. I am +playing tennis with Gerald’s sister this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>She took his arm as they scrambled down into the +road.</p> + +<p>“You are not cross with me, Christopher?” she ventured, +a little timidly.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, I am not cross.”</p> + +<p>“You look so gloomy—even a little miserable,” she +went on, clinging to his arm and looking up into his +face. “I am a very great trouble to you, I fear. Are +you not sorry that you ever brought me away?”</p> + +<p>“I am not sorry yet, Myrtile,” he answered. “I +only hope that I never may be.”</p> + +<p>Her mood suddenly changed. She laughed gaily.</p> + +<p>“Oh, là, là!” she cried. “If you look so glum, I +shall sing and dance to you, here in the road, as we +do at festival time. Gerald says that I must have +dancing lessons. He is going to send me to a woman +here.”</p> + +<p>She pirouetted lightly on one foot, a miracle of buoyancy +and grace. Then she went suddenly rigid, took +her place by his side and clutched at his arm. An automobile +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>whizzed past them, on its way up the hill: Gerald +was leaning back in the low driving seat, the sun gleaming +on his dark, closely brushed hair, his head bent towards +his companion; Pauline sat a little aloof, +haughty, unbending, her beautiful face cold, unrelieved +by any light of sympathy or interest. Her eyes swept +carelessly over Christopher and his companion, as they +passed. Gerald did not even see them.</p> + +<p>“Who is she?” Myrtile whispered.</p> + +<p>“No one knows much about her,” Christopher replied. +“She and her aunt have the next villa to +Gerald’s father. She calls herself Mademoiselle de +Ponière.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile laughed quietly. She was already herself +again.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle is a very stupid girl,” she declared. +“Gerald was looking at her and she looked only at the +road. She does not care. Gerald will find that out.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Gerald came to the tennis courts, an hour or so later, +and played several sets almost in silence. He had lost +for the moment all that light-hearted gaiety which made +him, even amongst the foreigners who frequented the +place, easily the most popular of the tennis-playing +fraternity. He played brilliantly at times, but with +obvious carelessness. He had the air of a man whose +thoughts are busily engaged elsewhere. He took Christopher +on one side, during one of the periods of rest, +and flung his arm around his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Chris, old man,” he confided, “that girl is driving +me mad.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile?” Christopher asked, with wilful obtuseness.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an ass,” was the impatient reply. “You +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>know very well that I mean Pauline de Ponière.—Tell +me, are you dining at the Villa to-night?”</p> + +<p>“Not to-night. Your people are dining with the +Prince.”</p> + +<p>“I am engaged to Carruthers but I shall throw him +over,” Gerald said eagerly. “I want to talk to you.”</p> + +<p>“And I have a few words I want to say to you,” +Christopher rejoined.</p> + +<p>“We’re in this set,” Gerald pointed out, rising to his +feet. “Let’s be alone somewhere, then—Ciro’s Grill +at eight-thirty.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span> and Christopher were a little disappointed +with their rendezvous, so far as regards its possibilities +for intimate conversation. Although it was twenty +minutes to nine when they entered the place, there was +still a fair number of loungers around the bar, drinking +cocktails, and many of the little tables around the room +were already taken. They chose as remote a one as +possible, however, and seated themselves side by side, +with their backs against the wall. Gerald ordered the +dinner and the wine. Then he started the conversation +with a somewhat abrupt question.</p> + +<p>“Chris,” he asked, “exactly what do you think of +Mademoiselle de Ponière?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know her,” Christopher reminded him.</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact, neither do I,” Gerald declared, +a little bitterly. “She permitted me to introduce myself +down on the sands below the Villa, and she has been +for a ride with me in the car every afternoon since; yet +she does this secretly, and if I meet her with her aunt +I am not allowed to speak to her or to expect recognition. +I am not permitted to call at the Villa, I don’t +know where they come from, I don’t know even her +nationality. Furthermore, they do not appear to know +a soul in Monte Carlo, nor have we ever stumbled across +a single mutual acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“The situation seems peculiar,” Christopher admitted. +“I can’t see the faintest reason why she +shouldn’t introduce you to her aunt.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>“Neither can I,” Gerald agreed. “I flatter myself +that for my few but well-spent years I have seen something +of the world and its snares, but I honestly cannot +place these two women.”</p> + +<p>“What is mademoiselle’s attitude towards you when +you are alone?” Christopher asked.</p> + +<p>“Ridiculously reserved,” Gerald answered. “I once +touched her fingers and I thought she would have struck +me. Humiliating though it may be, I am half inclined +to believe that it is the motoring alone which attracts +her in the slightest degree, and that I represent very +little more to her than the man who is driving the +car.”</p> + +<p>“Do you wish to represent more?” Christopher +asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Gerald answered, after a moment’s +hesitation. “She attracts me horribly. She has done +so from the first.”</p> + +<p>Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by +the arrival in the place of a newcomer, a stranger to +both the young men. He was tall and broad-shouldered, +sallow-skinned, with a mass of black hair, good +features, but with hard, almost brutal mouth. Although +the night was warm, he wore a huge overcoat, +from which he seemed to part with some reluctance. He +was in morning clothes of fashionable cut, and he wore a +singular number of rings upon his massive fingers. Immediately +he had been relieved of his coat, he made his +way to the bar, drank two cocktails in rapid succession +and lit a cigarette. Then he wandered to the table +adjoining the one at which the two young men were +seated, and, having given his order for dinner, busied +himself making calculations upon some scraps of paper +which he tore up as soon as they were filled with figures. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>Gerald spoke to the waiter who served them, with whom +he was well acquainted.</p> + +<p>“A stranger here, Charles?”</p> + +<p>The man glanced over his shoulder and lowered his +tone.</p> + +<p>“A Russian gentleman, milord,” he announced, +“staying at the Hôtel de Paris—Monsieur Zubin, he +calls himself. They say that he has been playing very +heavily.”</p> + +<p>“Russians who play high are no great novelty here,” +Gerald remarked, under his breath. “There are not so +many of them with money, nowadays, though.—Chris,” +he went on, as the man left them, “you asked yesterday +what was the matter with me. I’ll tell you. It’s this +uncertainty about Mademoiselle de Ponière. It’s an +absolute torment to me. It’s getting on my nerves.”</p> + +<p>“Define the exact nature of your uncertainty?” +Christopher suggested.</p> + +<p>“Define it? What the devil do you mean?” Gerald +answered gloomily.</p> + +<p>“Is it the character and reputation of these ladies +concerning which you cannot make up your mind, or is +it mademoiselle’s lack of reciprocation to your overtures +which you find distressing?”</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake, chuck that legal tosh!” Gerald +begged. “It’s both!”</p> + +<p>“Has she ever mentioned the subject of money, directly +or indirectly?” Christopher asked.</p> + +<p>“Not once,” Gerald replied. “She always has the +air of having plenty, and her clothes are quite wonderful. +Furthermore,” he went on, helping himself to wine, +“she doesn’t encourage me in the slightest. I wish to +God she would! She really seems to look upon me just +as a chauffeur.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>Christopher laughed quietly. There were people who +called Gerald the most spoilt young man in London, and +his present predicament had its humourous side. Gerald +himself made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>“It’s all very well, Christopher,” he said, “but I am +a great deal too near being in earnest over this. Pull +yourself together and suggest some way of getting hold +of the truth.”</p> + +<p>“If the girl herself won’t help you,” Christopher replied, +“how can any one else?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’re right,” Gerald assented gloomily.</p> + +<p>“Ask her pointblank where she was brought up +and how it is she knows no one here,” Christopher went +on.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try it,” Gerald agreed. “The worst of it is, +she has such a terrible way of looking at you when you +ask anything she doesn’t approve of; she makes you +feel as though you’d been guilty of an impertinence. +Only yesterday, I suggested Mary’s calling on her. +I’m not at all sure that Mary would have played up, +but I risked that. ‘My aunt is not receiving here,’ +was her only reply. Hang it all, you know, Chris, I’m +not a snob, but that does seem a trifle offhand, considering +all things.”</p> + +<p>“I should call it a little ominous,” Christopher pronounced. +“If she and her aunt really are wrong ’uns, +she’d be jolly careful not to put you in a false position +by letting your sister call upon her. She knows +quite well that’s the sort of thing a fellow doesn’t forgive.”</p> + +<p>The place had become very crowded indeed. A small +orchestra was playing in the far corner. Several unattached +young ladies, who preserved an air of haughty +indifference towards the company generally, but seemed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>to be on remarkably good terms with the head waiter, +had brought colour into the little assembly. The large +man who was reputed to be a Russian had called for +pen and ink, and between the courses was writing a letter. +The <i>maître d’hôtel</i>, who knew Gerald, stooped and +whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Zubin, the large gentleman you asked me +about, milord,” he announced, “has just won two million +francs over at the Casino. Some of these people +have followed him over. He must have the money in his +pocket.”</p> + +<p>To Christopher the scene was a novel one, and he +leaned forward in his seat. Two young ladies had +seated themselves at the next table to the Russian, and +the nearest was glancing tentatively at him now and +then, without, however, evoking the slightest response. +A rather seedy-looking individual, seated upon a stool +before the bar, had made one or two moves in the same +direction and was apparently only waiting for the Russian +to finish his letter before he addressed him. On +every side were signs of a sort of parasitical hero worship. +People from all quarters were whispering together +and glancing towards him. The object of all +these attentions continued to write his letter unmoved. +Presently he called for a <i>chasseur</i>, thrust his letter +into an envelope and addressed it. The boy made a +prompt appearance and stood, cap in hand, waiting for +his orders. The man who had just won two million +francs handed him the letter, gave him some brief directions +and a handful of coins. The <i>chasseur</i> saluted +and hurried off. Gerald gripped his companion by the +arm.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear that, Chris?” he whispered.</p> + +<p>“I heard nothing,” Christopher replied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>“I saw the address, too,” Gerald continued eagerly. +“The letter is to Madame de Ponière, Villa Violette!”</p> + +<p>The dispatch of the letter was the signal for certain +almost imperceptible advances on the part of those who +had been watching the great man. The young lady at +the next table leaned over and congratulated him on his +good fortune, an overture which was received a little +gruffly and without enthusiasm. Mademoiselle smiled, +however, and did not take the rebuff to heart. A bottle +stood in ice by her neighbour’s side, and she judged that +a more propitious moment would arrive. The seedy-looking +stranger slid from his stool, leaned over the +table and whispered a few words in the Russian’s ear. +He was a sandy-haired man, with puffy cheeks and a +nervous manner. His clothes had once been well enough +but were now shabby. He had the gambler’s restless +air.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he began, “forgive my addressing you.”</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” was the blunt rejoinder.</p> + +<p>“I stood behind your chair in the Rooms. I flatter +myself that I brought you fortune, as I have brought it +to many others. I have been an immense loser at the +tables, but, in proportion to my own losses, my friends +have always won.”</p> + +<p>“What of this?” the other asked brusquely.</p> + +<p>“The fortunes which control winning or losing are +strange ones,” the sandy-haired man continued. +“There are many who contend that they are influenced +by the good or evil will of a bystander. I admired your +courage, monsieur. I willed you to win. I have lost as +much at the tables as you have won. Will you grant +me the loan of a meal?”</p> + +<p>“Go to hell!” was the brutal reply. “I have nothing +to do with cadgers.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>The man staggered as though he had received a +shock. He was used to rebuffs, but not such rebuffs as +this.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur!” he stammered.—“Perhaps five hundred +or even two hundred francs——”</p> + +<p>“Not a sou, and be off. Do you want me to complain +to the manager?”</p> + +<p>The sandy-haired man went back to his stool, a little +dazed. He held out his hand as though for a drink, +which the bartender forgot to serve. A young man +dressed in the height of fashion rose from his place at +the other side of the room, and came over to talk to the +two girls for a few moments. Then he turned to the +Russian, addressing him courteously and with an air of +respect.</p> + +<p>“I congratulate you, monsieur,” he said, “upon your +splendid gambling. I watched you for an hour this +afternoon. It is not often that one sees the bank broken +four times.”</p> + +<p>The Russian looked at the newcomer with his bushy +eyebrows drawn together. His champagne had been +served and he had drunk a couple of glasses of the wine. +His expression, however, seemed colder and more menacing +than ever.</p> + +<p>“My gambling is my own affair, sir,” he said. “I +do not discuss it with strangers.”</p> + +<p>The young man smiled. He was not in the least offended.</p> + +<p>“There is a freemasonry here,” he explained, “which +sometimes dispenses with introductions. All of us visitors +who measure our wits and our pockets against +those of Monsieur Blanc are in a sense allies. When +one triumphs, it is permitted to the others to congratulate +him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>“My experience is,” the Russian declared, unmoved, +“that, after the congratulations are over, a little request +usually follows. I do not acknowledge the alliance +you speak of. I play for myself, my own pleasure +and my own profit.”</p> + +<p>“It is your right,” the young man acknowledged, his +tone still good-tempered, although there was a malicious +twist at the corners of his lips. “Since my congratulations +offend you, I withdraw them. May you lose back +again your two millions, and may some of it flow into +our pockets.”</p> + +<p>The Russian laughed mirthlessly.</p> + +<p>“Whatever of my two millions flows into your pockets,” +he replied, “will come via Monsieur Blanc—I can +promise you that! I am a stranger here, and I desire +no acquaintance. Your table, I think, is on the other +side of the room.”</p> + +<p>The young man edged away. The smile remained +upon his lips but his expression was curiously malevolent. +Gerald smiled as he saw him cross the floor.</p> + +<p>“Horribly bad character, that,” he remarked to +Christopher. “I missed him here last season and asked +where he was. They told me that he was in prison for +stabbing his mistress.—I suppose I shall get it in the +neck, Chris, but I’ve got to talk to the old brute. I +can’t afford to miss an opportunity of speaking to some +one who knows Pauline.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t, if I were you,” Christopher advised. +“You see he isn’t in the humour to talk to anybody, +and if there really is any mystery about the De Ponières, +he won’t care about being asked questions about +them.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was, for him, however, determined.</p> + +<p>“Those others were all wrong ’uns, and he probably +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>knew it. The fellow’s manner is brutal, but I believe +he’s a personage. I shall try my luck in a moment +or so.”</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle returned to the attack. She leaned +once more towards her neighbour.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur’s wine appears to be excellent,” she ventured.</p> + +<p>The Russian, who had begun to eat seriously, summoned +a waiter without raising his head.</p> + +<p>“Serve two bottles of wine,” he directed, “to mademoiselle +and her friend, and bring me another.”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur is a prince,” the girl murmured.</p> + +<p>The big man flashed a sudden look at her. Then he +went on with his dinner.</p> + +<p>“You are welcome to the wine,” he said. “It does +not please me, for the moment, to converse. Besides, I +am hungry.”</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle murmured another word of thanks and +turned back to her companion. She knew her world +and she was content.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur must not be interfered with,” she declared. +“He has been playing since the Rooms opened, +and he is weary. The fortune of some people is marvelous,” +she went on, watching the coming of the wine. +“If I were to win a mille, I should be crazy with delight.”</p> + +<p>Gerald waited for several minutes, until his neighbour +had entered upon another course. Then he leaned a +little towards him.</p> + +<p>“A trifle communistic, the ideas of the world about +here,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>The Russian looked at him and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I come from a country where I have learnt to hate +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>that word,” he said. “Be so good as not to repeat it +in my hearing.”</p> + +<p>“You are a Russian?” Gerald ventured.</p> + +<p>“It is entirely my business of what nationality I am,” +was the cold reply.</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” Gerald agreed. “At the same time, we +are all human. The man who wins a couple of millions +here is a public character. You will probably find old +ladies rubbing their five-franc pieces against your coat +sleeves, as you enter the Rooms.”</p> + +<p>“So long as they do not attempt to talk to me, I +shall be content,” was the curt retort.</p> + +<p>“You are not exactly looking for acquaintances, I +perceive,” Gerald remarked.</p> + +<p>“I have none here, nor do I desire any.”</p> + +<p>Gerald smiled. He had reached the point at which +he had been aiming.</p> + +<p>“That,” he observed, “is not strictly true. You +have just dispatched a note to some ladies of my acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>Monsieur Zubin had so far met Gerald’s tentative +overtures with the cold rudeness of one who recognises +an equal. At his last words, however, a look almost of +fury flashed into his face. He struck the table with his +fist.</p> + +<p>“I ought to have remembered the sort of people by +whom I was likely to be surrounded here,” he declared. +“One comes to beg for alms, another to tout for a loan +or to pave the way for a robbery, and you, who look as +though you ought to know better, cast sneaking glances +over my shoulder to read the superscription of a private +letter. What a riffraff!”</p> + +<p>Gerald bit his lip. He kept his temper perfectly.</p> + +<p>“I saw the address, I assure you, entirely by accident,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>he said. “I happen to be acquainted with one +of the ladies or the name would not have attracted my +notice. Madame and mademoiselle occupy the next +villa to my father’s.”</p> + +<p>“Acquainted? That is a lie!” the Russian exclaimed. +“The ladies of whom you have spoken have no acquaintances +in Monte Carlo.”</p> + +<p>Gerald shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“At least,” he said, “I will agree with you so far as +to admit that this is no place in which to discuss them.”</p> + +<p>Monsieur Zubin rose deliberately to his feet. One +realised then his extraordinary height. He must have +been at least six feet, four inches, and broad in proportion. +Gerald, although he himself was considerably +over average height, seemed like a child by his side.</p> + +<p>“If you mention their names again,” he threatened, +“I shall throw you out of the place.”</p> + +<p>Gerald looked him over for a moment, unmoved but +intensely curious. The mystery of Madame and Mademoiselle +de Ponière had only been increased by this +chance meeting.</p> + +<p>“Pray sit down,” he begged. “You are making +every one uneasy. I have no wish to quarrel with you. +I simply took you for an ordinary human being.”</p> + +<p>The Russian resumed his seat. Mademoiselle raised +her glass and laughed into his eyes. Gerald called for +his bill.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">During</span> their short walk to the Sporting Club, where +the two young men had arranged to spend the rest of +the evening, Christopher endeavoured to bring the conversation +round to the subject of Myrtile.</p> + +<p>“It is time,” he insisted, “that we did something a +little more definite about Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>“What can we do?” Gerald replied carelessly. +“She’ll find a job presently.”</p> + +<p>“She won’t unless we help her,” Christopher replied, +“and meanwhile this life is horribly bad for her. She is +all the time unsettled and uneasy, and I don’t wonder at +it. You don’t take her seriously enough, Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“In what way?”</p> + +<p>“She told me this afternoon that you had promised +to take her to one of your supper parties.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was not altogether at his ease.</p> + +<p>“It was rather a rash promise,” he admitted, “but +after all, why not? She’d create quite a sensation.”</p> + +<p>“That child’s immediate future is a charge upon our +honour,” Christopher said sternly. “You and I know +the class of young women you invite to your parties. +They’re smart enough—the best of their sort, without +a doubt. At the same time, they’re not fit companions +for Myrtile. She’s full of hysterical impressions, as it +is. She mustn’t come near them. She mustn’t breathe +the same atmosphere.”</p> + +<p>“Are you in love with Myrtile?” Gerald asked curiously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>Christopher loathed the question but he remained +outwardly unperturbed.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile is a child,” he said. “It will be time +enough to think of such things when she has become a +woman. The one deadly and pernicious certainty is +that she is in love with you. Be careful, Gerald. You +don’t want to walk on the floor of hell.”</p> + +<p>They had reached the steps of the Sporting Club. +Gerald ran lightly up.</p> + +<p>“My dear Chris,” he said, turning around as he +prepared to divest himself of his overcoat, “don’t +be a melodramatic ass. We’re in the wrong atmosphere +for that sort of thing. Jupiter! Here is the +family!”</p> + +<p>“Well, you might appear a little more pleased to see +us,” Mary declared. “Dad and I looked in here on our +way back from the dinner party. Dad met an old +friend there—Sir William Greatwood—and he insisted +upon our coming. It seemed so ridiculously early +to go home. They’ve hurried in to make sure of places +at the first roulette table.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s find a corner in the bar and have some coffee,” +Christopher suggested. “Gerald is too electric to-night +for a man of my staid temperament.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not so sure of your staid temperament as I +was,” Mary rejoined. “However, I’d like some coffee. +We’ll take those two easy-chairs.”</p> + +<p>Gerald soon drifted away and the two were left alone. +Mary leaned back in her corner and studied her companion +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Christopher,” she began, “I am not at all sure that +you two young men are behaving nicely in Monte Carlo. +Father was saying this afternoon that we scarcely saw +you at all except at tennis.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>“Will you play golf and lunch with me to-morrow +morning, Lady Mary?” he begged.</p> + +<p>“With pleasure,” she replied. “And now that you +have made your peace, do tell me about Gerald. He +seems to have an extraordinary craze for taking the +mysterious young woman next door out motoring every +afternoon. Who is she?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Christopher confessed. +“Neither has he. That, I think, is part of the attraction.”</p> + +<p>“Does any one know her?” Mary asked, a little +doubtfully. “She looks all right, but, after all, ours is +such a very small world that it seems odd no one knows +anything about her.”</p> + +<p>Christopher shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I believe that Madame Lénore—the woman from +whom we bought the things for Myrtile—knows something +about them, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary played with the pearls which hung from +her neck.</p> + +<p>“To leave the subject of our mysterious neighbours, +then, have you succeeded in finding any employment for +your little protégée yet?” she enquired, looking up at +her companion.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” Christopher replied. “I have written to +a cousin of mine in London, who goes in for that sort of +thing, to see if she can find her a post as nursery governess. +The housekeeper at the hotel would take her as +a chambermaid, but for once I agree with Gerald—I +think she is far too good for anything of that +sort.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t imagine what you two young men think you +know about it,” Mary remarked. “The girl has lived +all her life as a peasant, and I am still old-fashioned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>enough to believe that it is exceedingly unwise to pitchfork +any one into a position to which he is unaccustomed.”</p> + +<p>“The girl is altogether unusual,” Christopher +pointed out. “Her father and mother were both +school-teachers. Sometimes I feel inclined to regret +that we ever discovered her, but so long as we did, and +brought her here, we must try and start her properly.”</p> + +<p>“In Monte Carlo?” his companion observed, a little +drily.</p> + +<p>“I shall send her to England, if my cousin agrees to +take her,” Christopher declared.</p> + +<p>“And, in the meantime, the poor little fool is hopelessly +in love with Gerald. Well, you both know what +you are doing, I suppose. I should be sorry to have +your responsibility.—I think I ought to go and see +how dad is getting on with his mille.”</p> + +<p>“Wait one moment,” Christopher begged, laying his +hand upon her arm. “I want you to watch this.”</p> + +<p>She looked up curiously. Gerald had just entered +the crowded little room, and, at the same moment, +Mademoiselle de Ponière and her aunt appeared on the +other threshold. Madame was dressed in black clothes +of old-fashioned but distinctive cut. A wonderful black +lace shawl drooped from her shoulders. Her ears and +fingers blazed with gems. She leaned, as she walked, +upon an ivory-topped stick, and her eyes had their usual +trick of wandering around the room as though she saw +no one. Pauline’s wonderful figure seemed sheathed in +a black net gown, which fitted her with almost magical +perfection. From the curve of her large hat, which +framed her pale face and heavily-fringed eyes, to the +tips of her black and white patent shoes, she seemed to +represent a perfection unobtrusive but inevitable. Gerald, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>who had been on his way to join his sister and +Christopher, paused at their approach, as though bent +on challenging some recognition, however slight, from +the girl. In this, however, he was disappointed. Without +any appearance of avoiding him, without even turning +her eyes away from his direction, she passed by as +though in complete unconsciousness of his presence, and +followed her companion through the other door. Gerald +stood for a moment in silent fury after they had left. +The cigarette which he had been holding between his +fingers slipped on to the carpet, crushed to pieces. He +set his heel upon it and crossed the room. Lady Mary +recognised the sense of disturbance in him and welcomed +him with the tactful smile of one who has noticed nothing +unusual.</p> + +<p>“Tell me whether to play <i>trente et quarante</i> or roulette +to-night, Gerald?” she said. “Or shall I go and +play baccarat? If only the people there weren’t so +alarming!”</p> + +<p>Gerald looked across at Christopher. He seemed as +though he had scarcely heard his sister’s words.</p> + +<p>“Did you see that?” he asked, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded.</p> + +<p>“Personally,” he admitted, “I should find it intolerable, +but then, as you know, I hate all mysteries. I +should feel inclined to go up to the young woman and +ask her if she were tired after her motoring.”</p> + +<p>“I believe I have an average amount of pluck,” Gerald +declared, “but I tell you honestly I couldn’t face it. +I believe I should get the most colossal snub which has +ever been inflicted upon a human being.”</p> + +<p>“The girl is extraordinarily attractive,” Mary observed. +“Shall I really be brave and call, Gerald? +One doesn’t do that sort of thing abroad, but she must +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>be lonely. If they aren’t what they should be, it won’t +hurt me.”</p> + +<p>“No good, old dear,” Gerald groaned. “I’ve suggested +something of the sort already, but she only threw +cold water on the idea.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary laughed softly.</p> + +<p>“After all,” she decided, “there is something humourous +in the situation. I always look upon Gerald as being +the most woman-spoilt man I know. Quite a new +experience for you, dear, isn’t it? I can’t think how +you ever progressed so far as you have done.”</p> + +<p>“Sheer British pluck,” Gerald declared. “I can assure +you I never shivered so much during my three years +in France, as I did when I walked up to the rock where +the girl was standing. I don’t remember, even now, how +I made the plunge.”</p> + +<p>“You probably asked her if her name wasn’t Smith +and if you hadn’t met at the Jones’ ball,” Mary remarked. +“After all, there have been other people in the +world who haven’t wished to make acquaintances. They +are both in half-mourning, too.”</p> + +<p>“I should cheer up, old fellow,” Christopher advised. +“They won’t hold out for ever. You will probably find +that to-morrow afternoon the young lady will shyly invite +you in to meet her aunt.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gerald +growled. “There! Did you see that?”</p> + +<p>Through the open doorway, Madame de Ponière and +her younger companion were plainly visible, making their +way towards one of the roulette tables. They had come +face to face for a moment with a little Frenchman, who +stopped and bowed with every mark of respect. Both +of the women acknowledged his salutation graciously. +Gerald sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>“That’s Henri Dubois, Monsieur Blanc’s representative +there!” he exclaimed. “He knows them! Thank +heavens, I’ve come across some one at last who does!”</p> + +<p>He crossed the room in half a dozen strides, and accosted +Monsieur Dubois in the private way leading to +the Hôtel de Paris. The usual civilities were exchanged.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Dubois, you can do me a favour,” Gerald +confided, as he drew him towards the bar and ordered +two liqueur brandies.</p> + +<p>“If it is possible, it is done,” Dubois declared. “If +it is impossible, it shall be done.”</p> + +<p>“I want you to tell me,” Gerald continued, “who the +two ladies in black were, to whom you just bowed—Madame +and Mademoiselle de Ponière, they call themselves?”</p> + +<p>The courteous smile faded from the lips of the little +man. He was watching intently the pouring of the +brandy into his glass.</p> + +<p>“Milord,” he regretted, “I cannot tell you anything +about those two ladies.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was a little staggered. Monsieur Dubois was +a well-known gossip, to whom he had been indebted for +the history of many of the visitors to the place.</p> + +<p>“You, too!” he exclaimed. “What on earth is the +mystery about them?”</p> + +<p>The Frenchman looked at him in bland surprise.</p> + +<p>“Mystery, milord?” he repeated. “Is there one?”</p> + +<p>Gerald avoided a fruitless discussion. He laid his +hand on his companion’s shoulder in friendly fashion.</p> + +<p>“Look here, old fellow,” he said, “I will ask you one +question, and one question only. What are their real +names?”</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dubois smiled. His difficulties were at an +end.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>“Milord,” he declared, “you wrong those very respectable +ladies in imagining that they would present +themselves here under names to which they had no right. +Both ladies, who are, as you have doubtless surmised, +related, are entitled to the name of De Ponière. The +first Christian name of the older lady is Anastasie, of +the younger—Pauline. I am happy to be able to satisfy +milord. A thousand excuses. They call me from +the baccarat room.”</p> + +<p>Gerald returned dejectedly to the room where his +sister and Christopher were waiting expectantly.</p> + +<p>“It appears that there is no mystery at all,” he announced. +“Dubois assures me that they are related +and that their names are indeed De Ponière.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Myrtile</span> rose in the morning, as was her custom, at +a little after seven o’clock, carefully made her bed, +dressed, and walked for an hour upon the Terrace. +These early diurnal wanderings were tempered with a +certain sadness, although she was always finding something +new—new beauties or new sores—in this amazing +spot to which she had been transported. She saw +the mists which wreathed the hilltops before the sun had +power to burn them away,—mists grey some mornings +and opalescent on others, but always of wonderful +shape, always fantastic, dissolving sometimes at unexpected +moments to reveal unexpected beauties, hanging +down the hillsides at times in long, ghostly arms, to +sever the pine woods, the strips of pasture and the small +vineyards. The little town itself had the air of being +in déshabille, of somewhat resenting this early riser’s +curious gaze. Where the coloured lights had burned +last night, and the music of violins made sad and sweet +the throbbing atmosphere, was a desert waste,—tables +piled on one another, chairs turned over, the débris of +cigars and cigarette ends and burned-out matches still +littering the ground. There were water carts in the +streets and sweepers upon the pavement. The beshuttered +and becurtained shops looked with blank eyes +upon this scene of renovation. It was too early, as yet, +even for the mannequin or the seamstress; the streets +were filled only with the ghosts of last night’s giddy +throngs. The Casino itself, closed and silent, seemed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>brooding over that hive of passion, of disappointment +and strident joy of a few hours ago. The villas on the +hill were barely opening their eyes. A ragpicker stole +along the Terrace, making his furtive collection. To +Myrtile, whose life as yet was composed mainly of externals, +everything was still beautiful. The sun warmed +her with the promise of love. She was never tired of +watching the little waves breaking upon the sandy strip, +and the million scintillating lights upon the bay. She +looked up with a glad smile at the silent hotel where +Gerald was sleeping. Perhaps he was dreaming of her +at that very moment. Love had crept into her life and +found her very ignorant. As yet it was a beautiful and +simple thing. That it was capable of change and division +never even occurred to her. She loved Gerald, and, +although he sometimes disappointed her, it must be that +Gerald loved her. She had few doubts about it all. +All her confidence, all her will, went freely with that +warm, sweet impulse which filled her heart and thoughts, +and which seemed to her the sweetest and most wonderful +thing in life. She was intelligent, almost brilliantly +intelligent, and, even in those few days, the sordid and +ugly side of other people’s lives and aspirations had +sometimes been revealed to her, only to be brushed aside +as something very remote, something from which love +made her forever free. Gerald’s attitude often puzzled, +sometimes even distressed her, but she put his vagaries +down to her own lack of understanding. She was convinced +that all would be well when she saw more of him, +and she harboured a dull sense of resentment against +Christopher, who she believed was always working for +some unknown reason to keep them apart.</p> + +<p>At half-past eight she returned to her rooms and deliberately +attacked a great mass of sewing, which was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>sent to her daily from the hotel, and the payment for +which, by arrangement, provided her with board and +lodging. From that time onwards, she sat in the window +with but one hope,—the hope of seeing Gerald. +Once or twice he had come and taken her out to luncheon, +but Christopher was unfailing in his visits. He presented +himself every morning at about the same +time, and even if Gerald appeared, he always accompanied +him. Gerald once, obeying a curious impulse, +had sent her a great box of roses, over which she had +wept with delight, and which she kept alive by every +known artifice. Christopher brought her, day by day, +the little things she needed,—gloves, stockings, handkerchiefs, +and often a few simple bonbons and flowers. +Despite her resentment against him, it was always a +pleasure to hear his firm tread and to watch his tall, +broad-shouldered figure and good-humoured, intelligent +face as he crossed the road, invariably with some small +parcel in his hand. He seemed to have much more time +to spare than Gerald, a fact which, womanlike, she half +resented, ignorant of the fact that Gerald sat up half +the night enjoying himself in his own fashion, and that +Christopher often gave up his morning round of golf +to be her companion. She found an evil counsellor, too, +in Annette, the maid at the hotel, who occupied the +other bedroom in the little cottage and generally looked +in for a few minutes on her way to work. Annette, who +was thoroughly French, was completely puzzled by the +situation. She could account for it in her own mind +only from the fact that the two young men were English +and therefore presumably mad. Of her own preference +she made no secret.</p> + +<p>“But how mademoiselle is industrious!” she exclaimed, +looking in at the door soon after Myrtile had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>returned from her early morning walk and settled down +to her sewing. “I hope my stingy old aunt pays you +well for all that sewing.”</p> + +<p>“She gives me my board and lodging here,” Myrtile +replied, with a smile. “That more than contents +me.”</p> + +<p>“Board and lodging! Oh, là, là!” Annette declared, +sinking into her accustomed chair. “That would not +content me. Even one’s salary at the hotel is not sufficient. +It is the tips from which one can buy one’s +clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Soon I shall have to think of clothes,” Myrtile confided. +“At present Monsieur Gerald has given me all +that I need.”</p> + +<p>“It is a very chic costume and doubtless expensive,” +Annette admitted, “but for evening clothes mademoiselle +has nothing.”</p> + +<p>“I do not go out in the evenings,” Myrtile replied, +a little wistfully. “Monsieur Christopher took me once +to the Opera, but we sat in a box.”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Christopher!” the maid repeated, with a +little shrug of the shoulders. “He is well enough but +he is heavy. He speaks French like an English schoolboy. +But Milord Dombey—ah, he is superb! He +speaks French like a Parisian, he dances divinely, he is +gay all the time. Oh, if he were on my floor, that I +could see him sometimes, I should be happy!”</p> + +<p>Myrtile said nothing. She had learnt that the best +way to make Annette talk was just to listen.</p> + +<p>“It amazes me,” Annette continued, “that mademoiselle +does not ask Milord Dombey for some evening +frocks and attend one of his supper parties. Charles, +the head waiter, brings me news often of them. They +are of the most amusing. There are artistes there, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>all manner of wonderful people. Has mademoiselle no +curiosity to see life?”</p> + +<p>Myrtile threaded a needle carefully before she replied.</p> + +<p>“Milord Dombey,” she said, “would, I believe, take +me, but Monsieur Christopher does not think it well +that I go to those parties. He declares that they are +for people whom I should not meet.”</p> + +<p>Annette threw herself back in her chair, revealing +to the full her silk-stockinged legs. She clasped her +hands behind the back of her head. She was vastly +amused.</p> + +<p>“Oh, là, là!” she exclaimed. “That is so like +Monsieur Bent! What does he make of life, that young +man? Does he think it well for a girl as beautiful as +mademoiselle to sit here alone at night and creep into +bed, while monsieur who adores her spends his time with +other women? Pooh! Mademoiselle should have courage.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile laid down her work. Her heart was beating +fast.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Annette,” she begged, “who are these +guests of Milord Dombey? Why do they keep me away +from them?”</p> + +<p>“It is not Milord Dombey’s fault,” Annette declared. +“He is a <i>beau garçon</i>, that. It is the stupid +Monsieur Bent who should have stayed at home in his +dull London. They are all well enough, these guests of +Milord Dombey’s. Some sing at the Opera; others, +perhaps, have seen life in Paris, but for that what are +they the worse—what harm can they do? It is perhaps +Monsieur Bent’s idea that he keeps you away +from Milord Dombey, who is so attractive, and takes +you back to his stodgy England and marries you there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>himself. Oh, if I were mademoiselle, I should submit +no longer!”</p> + +<p>“What should you do, Annette?” Myrtile asked, +half fearfully.</p> + +<p>“I should put on all my prettiest clothes,” Annette +replied, entering into the matter with animation, “and +I should come to the hotel. I should find my way to +Milord Dombey—that would be for me to arrange—and +I should just tell him that I had come, that I was +tired of being left at home. Then I would whisper one +or two of the nicest little things I could think of into +his ear, and I would put my arms around his neck, and—well—I +know Milord Dombey—he would not send +me away—not if I were mademoiselle.”</p> + +<p>The work had fallen from Myrtile’s hands. She was +sitting up in her chair, her eyes very bright, her lips a +little parted. How fortunate it was that Annette had +come! Without a doubt, she would do this. Only one +must beware of Monsieur Christopher. He was full of +droll ideas. It was, perhaps, as Annette had suggested. +He must be made to understand. Presently Annette +departed, and when, a little later on, Christopher arrived +to pay his morning call, Myrtile was seated as +usual at her work, her manner unaltered except that +she was a little gayer than usual, perhaps a little more +kindly. Christopher, on the other hand, was inclined +to be serious.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” he announced, “I have heard from my +cousin in England. She thinks that she will be able to +find you a place in about a month’s time.”</p> + +<p>“That is very kind of her,” Myrtile answered, +without enthusiasm. “What does Gerald say about +it?”</p> + +<p>“I have not mentioned it to Gerald yet,” Christopher +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>replied. “He was dining out last night and had a +supper party afterwards at the Carlton, and as a +matter of fact he was fast asleep when I came out. I +have no doubt, however, that he will be glad.”</p> + +<p>The girl made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>“He may not be so glad to get rid of me as you,” +she remarked.</p> + +<p>“We shall neither of us be here in a month’s time,” +Christopher reminded her. “Certainly I shall not, and +Gerald, I believe, is due to go on to Biarritz before +then.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile sewed industriously for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” she suggested, “he may want me to go +on to Biarritz with him.”</p> + +<p>“You must not talk like that, Myrtile,” Christopher +said sternly. “You must not say such things. If +Gerald goes, it will be with some other young men to +play polo. There would be no possible place for you in +such a company.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile proceeded calmly with her sewing. She was +beginning to be sorry for Christopher. He understood +so little.</p> + +<p>“We must tell Gerald about it,” she conceded. +“You understand that I should not do anything without +his approval?”</p> + +<p>“Quite,” Christopher acquiesced. “We are both +equally your guardians, Myrtile. Gerald is just as +fond of you, I am sure, as I am.”</p> + +<p>She smiled without looking up. Some day he would +know the truth, this kindly but rather foolish Englishman. +He would know that she and Gerald loved one +another. He should always be their friend, though. +He was very good, in his way, only he would not understand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>“What about a short walk before lunch?” he suggested.</p> + +<p>Myrtile dropped her work at once.</p> + +<p>“We will go along the Terrace,” she proposed, “and +while I sit upon a seat, you shall go in and wake up +that lazy Gerald. You shall tell him that I am waiting, +and I am sure that he will hurry out.”</p> + +<p>Christopher assented, a little sadly. Once or twice +before they had carried out the same programme, and +he was wondering whether it would not have been better +to have told Myrtile the truth,—that on two occasions +Gerald had absolutely refused to join them, and that +on the third he had been brought out almost by force. +There was a little pang in his heart as he watched +Myrtile’s gay preparations. Life was so wonderful to +her that it seemed a shame to destroy a single illusion.</p> + +<p>“We’ll try and rout him out, at all events,” he +promised.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Myrtile</span> was seated alone at the far end of the Terrace, +outside the Hôtel de Paris, when the tragedy happened. +Her first impression was that some very unusual +people had found their way on to the promenade,—a +fête-day excursion, perhaps, from one of the neighbouring +villages. And then the colour seemed slowly +drained from her cheeks. She would have got up and +fled but her limbs absolutely refused their office. Her +slight movement, however, had attracted the attention +of the two men. With exclamations of incredulity, they +hurried towards her. The incredulity turned swiftly to +joy. Myrtile, in such clothes, represented, without a +doubt, boundless wealth. It was a morning of good +fortune, this!</p> + +<p>“Myrtile, thou little rascal!” her stepfather cried, +gripping her pearl-coloured gloves in his horny fist. +“Pierre, thou seest. It is she indeed. Amazing! It is +veritably amazing!”</p> + +<p>Pierre Leschamps was not so fluent. His narrow, +covetous eyes looked over Myrtile’s slim body lasciviously. +What he had lost! He was filled with self-pity.</p> + +<p>“It is an escapade, this,” he said. “Thou art ready +to return, Myrtile?”</p> + +<p>“Never!” the girl declared passionately.</p> + +<p>“Oho!” her stepfather exclaimed. “We shall see +about that. There is the law, little one. The law does +not allow an honest man to be robbed of his daughter—ay, +stepdaughter, if you will,” he went on, checking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>a passionate protest on Myrtile’s lips. “Now, then, +out with it, my child. Where did those clothes come +from? Who brought you here? Who is supporting +you?”</p> + +<p>“I am supporting myself,” Myrtile answered. “I +sew all the mornings and most of the afternoons.”</p> + +<p>The two men laughed unpleasantly. Her father laid +his hand upon her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “you were carried away from +home by two Englishmen in a motor car—rich Englishmen, +by all accounts, with much luggage. Where are +they?”</p> + +<p>“What do you want with them?” Myrtile demanded.</p> + +<p>“That is not for thy silly head, little one.”</p> + +<p>“There is a matter of compensation,” Pierre growled. +“Tell us where to find these Englishmen?”</p> + +<p>Myrtile looked wildly around. She scarcely knew +whether she prayed for or dreaded Christopher’s return. +Then suddenly she saw him close at hand, accompanied, +to her infinite relief, by Gerald. She gave a +little cry of joy. Now, indeed, all would be well. +Gerald would arrange everything.</p> + +<p>“So these are they?” her stepfather muttered, as +the two young men approached.</p> + +<p>“They look like gentlemen of wealth,” Leschamps +echoed.</p> + +<p>“The stepfather of Myrtile, as I live,” Gerald muttered, +under his breath. “Heaven grant that we may +escape a brawl out here! Must we——”</p> + +<p>“Of course we must,” Christopher answered curtly. +“Can’t you see that the child is frightened to death? +We’ll have them in the police station, if they make any +trouble. The police here haven’t much sympathy with +their class.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>Myrtile called to them softly.</p> + +<p>“This is my stepfather,” she said, “and his friend, +Pierre Leschamps.”</p> + +<p>“Mon Dieu!” Gerald exclaimed, in frank horror. +“Are you the man whom Myrtile was to marry?”</p> + +<p>“I am he, indeed, monsieur,” the innkeeper acknowledged. +“I have gone to great expense in the matter. +My house was painted and whitewashed and my bedroom +papered. The neighbours were all bidden. I had +even laid in wine for the feast.”</p> + +<p>“Then you ought to have been ashamed of yourself,” +Gerald declared. “Why, how old are you, my +friend?”</p> + +<p>Leschamps patted his stomach.</p> + +<p>“I am but fifty years old,” he replied, “a man in the +prime of life. Myrtile was promised to me. There is +no one else like her. I am without a wife. It is a +very serious position for a man with an inn to look +after.”</p> + +<p>“And what about me?” her stepfather intervened, +his voice rising with the recollection of his wrongs. +“For many years I have kept that child. I have fed +her and clothed her all that time. Now that she is +eighteen, now that she is of some use in the world, how +does she show her gratitude? What can I do without +her, I ask? I was to marry the good Widow Dumay. +Now she says ‘no!’ She declares that, without Myrtile, +the care of the children is too much for her. She refuses +to allow me to arrange for the wedding, unless +either Myrtile returns or she has at least five hundred +francs with which to arrange for help.”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred francs!” Leschamps groaned. +“What is that for a wife like Myrtile! It is a blow to +me, this. My health has suffered. I am gloomy. My +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>business decreases. The neighbours will no longer drink +a bottle of wine with a man who cannot sing a song or +smile once during the evening. They go elsewhere. My +connection tumbles to pieces. And there are my rooms +all painted and my bedroom papered, and I have no +wife.”</p> + +<p>“It appears to me,” Gerald proposed, “that we had +better discuss this matter in my rooms over a bottle of +wine—a bottle of champagne, eh? What do you say, +gentlemen?”</p> + +<p>“Let it be this moment,” Myrtile’s stepfather insisted. +“Let us know where we are without further delay. +This matter makes me sad. I cannot sleep or eat. +I have dug deep into my savings to come here. Oh, it +has cost me much money, this journey!”</p> + +<p>“And I,” Leschamps declared, “I who have never +been in a train before, who have never spent ten sous +on my own pleasure, it is ruin, this journey. And I have +been sick of the stomach.”</p> + +<p>“Follow me, gentlemen,” Gerald invited.</p> + +<p>He led them into the hotel, much to the amazement +of the liveried servants, took them up in the lift, in +which both nearly collapsed upon the floor, and ushered +them into his sitting room. For a few moments, effrontery +and avarice were alike powerless. They were +dumb with amazement. They looked around them, muttering +inarticulate words. Leschamps dabbed at the +perspiration on his forehead with a bright, cherry-coloured +handkerchief. Her stepfather looked helplessly +across the room to where Myrtile was seated side +by side with Christopher. Gerald ordered champagne, +which was brought in by a servant dressed in knee +breeches and silk stockings. Leschamps secretly +pinched himself. Gerald, the central figure of the little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>party, towards whom every one turned and on whom +Myrtile’s eyes were unswervingly fixed, began to rather +enjoy the situation.</p> + +<p>“Now, gentlemen,” he said, after he had moved them +up to the table and placed the bottle of wine between +them, “let us deal with this question in a few words. +Your stepdaughter, Myrtile, is not coming back to you, +Monsieur Sargot; neither will she become your wife, +Monsieur Leschamps. She will be well taken care of +and that is all that concerns you. We would like, if +possible, to arrange this matter pleasantly, although +we admit no claim. At what price do you, Monsieur +Sargot, place your daughter’s services? And you, +Monsieur Leschamps, at what figure do you put your +expenses in preparing for your wedding which will never +take place?”</p> + +<p>“It is a hard question,” Myrtile’s stepfather declared, +seizing the bottle and pouring himself out another +glass of wine.</p> + +<p>“It will be a great loss for me,” the innkeeper +groaned.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile did all the cooking,” Jean Sargot continued. +“There was no one made such a ragout, and +the children with her were like angels.”</p> + +<p>“That is not true,” Myrtile intervened calmly. +“The children were always bad-tempered and difficult +to manage.”</p> + +<p>“She has lost her head, the little one,” her stepfather +lamented.</p> + +<p>“There is not another girl in the valley one would +marry by the side of her,” the innkeeper muttered.</p> + +<p>Gerald waited until they had finished. He was leaning +against the back of a sofa, smoking a cigarette +which he had just lit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “it is for you to name +a sum. All that I ask is that Myrtile be left in +peace.”</p> + +<p>“The Widow Dumay,” Myrtile’s stepfather said, +watching Gerald closely, “declared that I ought to +have in the stocking another two thousand francs, if I +am deprived of Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>Gerald opened his pocketbook.</p> + +<p>“Will the same sum content you, Leschamps?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>Pierre Leschamps tried to sigh. His eyes, however, +betrayed his greedy satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“I will accept it,” he said. “May Myrtile be +happy!”</p> + +<p>Myrtile’s stepfather struck the table with his fist.</p> + +<p>“Look here, all of you,” he expostulated, “this is +all very well, but why should Pierre Leschamps have +as much as I—I who have lost my daughter——”</p> + +<p>“She was to have been my wife,” Leschamps +growled.</p> + +<p>“It was I who was to give her to you,” the other retorted. +“You have lost nothing because she never belonged +to you. Five hundred francs would pay you +many times over for all the expense you have been to +in your miserable little house. The rest of your two +thousand should come to me.”</p> + +<p>The faces of the two men were aflame. Pierre Leschamps +was tugging viciously at his little black moustache. +There was a purple flush on Sargot’s cheeks. +They seemed about to fall on each other. Gerald struck +the table with the flat of his hand.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he enjoined, “unless you both want to +be ordered out of the room without a sou, hold your +peace.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>No threat could have been more effective. They +stood looking at him like dumb animals. He silently +filled the glass of each with more wine.</p> + +<p>“Now remember that you are friends and comrades,” +he begged. “There is, after all, something in what +Jean Sargot has said. To lose a stepdaughter is more +than to lose a promised wife. I will add a thousand +francs to your amount, Jean Sargot.”</p> + +<p>“And I shall have my two thousand?” Leschamps +cried.</p> + +<p>“You shall have your two thousand,” Gerald promised.</p> + +<p>Their eyes hung upon his pocketbook like the eyes +of sick animals. Gerald counted out the money but retained +it in his hand.</p> + +<p>“You, monsieur,” he said, addressing Myrtile’s stepfather, +“will sign a paper which my friend here will write +out, promising to resign all claim to Myrtile and never +to attempt to see her again.”</p> + +<p>“I will sign it,” the man agreed.</p> + +<p>Christopher sat at the desk and wrote out a few brief +sentences. Jean Sargot signed it without even confessing +his inability to read. They stood up to receive the +money. Myrtile, and even Christopher, watched them, +fascinated. Their brown, nailless fingers clutched and +trembled as they counted the notes. Each in turn buttoned +them into the inside pocket of his coat. It was +more than they had dreamed of, this. Myrtile, a village +child, to be worth a fortune!</p> + +<p>“It is finished, then, this affair,” Sargot declared, as +he drained his glass.</p> + +<p>“It is finished,” Gerald agreed. “I will ring for a +page to show you out.”</p> + +<p>“You need have no anxiety about Myrtile,” Christopher +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>said. “She will be found a suitable home and she +will lead a suitable life.”</p> + +<p>Jean Sargot suddenly remembered that he was her +stepfather. He brushed his coat sleeve across his +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Little one,” he cried, “embrace me. This is, then, +farewell.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile rose to her feet but she remained at the other +side of the table.</p> + +<p>“I wish you farewell and I wish you good fortune,” +she said. “I would rather not embrace you. You have +been hard and cruel to me, as you have been to others. +Try and be kinder to your own children. And as for +you, Pierre Leschamps,” she went on, “do not dream +for a moment that I would ever have married you. I +would sooner have thrown myself into the quarry.”</p> + +<p>“The little one was always strange,” Leschamps +muttered, almost apologetically.</p> + +<p>They stumbled out of the room after the page who +presently arrived. Gerald broke into a shout of laughter +as they disappeared. Myrtile’s eyes, however, were +filled with tears. Christopher, too, was grave, but it +was to Gerald the girl turned.</p> + +<p>“I have cost you a great deal, I am afraid,” she +said. “Now I belong to you.”</p> + +<p>She leaned towards him. Christopher intervened almost +harshly.</p> + +<p>“To us,” he declared, throwing down a little bundle +of notes upon the table. “You and I are Myrtile’s +joint guardians, Gerald. That was our understanding. +I shall hold you to your promise.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile’s head was buried on Gerald’s shoulder. +Gerald himself was for a moment half embarrassed, half +carried away by Myrtile’s calm assumption. He looked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>into Christopher’s grey eyes, however, and he pulled +himself together.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, old chap,” he promised. “We’ll +steer clear of trouble—somehow.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span> found Pauline waiting for him at the accustomed +spot, after luncheon that afternoon. As he +slowed down his car to pick her up, he was conscious of +a return of that feeling of irritation which had been +growing stronger with him, day by day,—an irritation +based upon her obvious desire to escape recognition +when with him and to keep their acquaintance as far as +possible a secret. She was waiting in the shadow of a +great magnolia shrub, dressed in inconspicuous grey, +with a veil thicker even than the exigencies of motoring +necessitated. In the background was the same black-gowned +maid who always attended her as far as the +avenue and took her silent leave at his approach.</p> + +<p>Pauline stepped lightly into the place by his side, +without waiting for him to vacate his seat.</p> + +<p>“Turn round, please,” she directed. “We will go +the other way. I do not choose to pass through the +town.”</p> + +<p>Gerald obeyed, although her request only added fuel +to the smouldering fire of his resentment. He turned +away towards the mountain road and maintained a silence +which was not without its significance. His companion, +after a few minutes, glanced towards him indifferently. +He was leaning back in his place, his eyes, +as usual, fixed upon the road, his left hand firmly grasping +the steering wheel. The humourous twitch, however, +had gone from his mouth. There was a distinct +frown upon his forehead.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>“You are perhaps weary to-day?” she suggested. +“You would like to shorten our drive?”</p> + +<p>Gerald turned and looked at her.</p> + +<p>“I am not weary,” he replied. “I am puzzled. I +hate mysteries.”</p> + +<p>“The old complaint,” she yawned.</p> + +<p>“With a new reading,” he retorted. “I have shown +myself ready, as you must know,” he went on, “to study +your rather peculiar whims in every way, but when it +comes to meeting you face to face at the Club and receiving +nothing but the stoniest of stares, I must admit +that the situation grows beyond me. You could surely +find a hundred reasonable excuses for the most formal +sort of recognition. I am not—well, I am not a disreputable +acquaintance, am I?”</p> + +<p>She laughed quietly.</p> + +<p>“Not in the least. You belong to what they call in +England the middle-class aristocracy, do you not,—two +or three centuries old, with a damp house in a park +and an armful of undistinguished titles? I suppose that +sort of thing counted for something before your tradespeople +and lawyers and bankers were all admitted into +the magic circle.”</p> + +<p>“Are you a socialist?” Gerald enquired, a little +taken aback.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” she replied curtly. “I am an aristocrat.”</p> + +<p>“Are you afraid to present me to Madame de +Ponière?” he asked, after a moment’s pause.</p> + +<p>“Terrified,” she admitted frankly.</p> + +<p>“Because my quarterings are insufficient? I might +remark that my father is the ninth Earl and that I am +his only son.”</p> + +<p>“It is not that at all,” she assured him indifferently. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>“There is really no reason why we should not meet in +a place like this on equal terms, but my aunt is a woman +with only one idea in her head, and for the successful +development of that idea it is advisable that we make +no acquaintances whatever here. There, my Lord Dombey, +have I not been kind to you? I would see more of +you if I could, because in a place like this the escort of +a man is an advantage. As it is, I can assure you that +I risk a good deal in taking these afternoon rides.”</p> + +<p>“You have explained nothing,” he insisted, a little +doggedly. “I still do not see why I may not be recognised +in public, why it would not be in order for my +sister to call and invite you to tennis, why you and your +aunt should not allow me to entertain you at dinner. +I am just as far from understanding you as I ever +was.”</p> + +<p>She sighed.</p> + +<p>“Well, do not be cross with me, please,” she begged. +“If you knew how wearisome my life was and how grateful +I really am to you for these few hours of escape, you +would feel more kindly towards me. See, I give you +my hand. Let us be friends.”</p> + +<p>It was the first time during all their acquaintance +that she had accorded him the slightest mark of favour. +The touch of her fingers thrilled and surprised him. He +held her hand unresistingly for several moments. Then +she drew it quietly but firmly away.</p> + +<p>“Well, that is settled,” she said. “Now talk to me +about other things. Is there no news at the Rooms? +Has no one been breaking the bank?”</p> + +<p>“There was something I was going to tell you,” +Gerald replied, with a sudden flash of recollection. “I +sat next to a man at dinner last night in Ciro’s Grill, +who they say broke the bank several times during the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>afternoon. I believe they said that he was a Russian. +I suppose you know all about him, however.”</p> + +<p>“I?” she exclaimed. “Why should I?”</p> + +<p>“Because, between the courses of his dinner, he wrote +a letter and sent it off by messenger. He was at +the next table and it was impossible for me to avoid +seeing the envelope. It was addressed to Madame de +Ponière.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him, amazed.</p> + +<p>“To my aunt?” she repeated. “But we received no +letter from any one last night.”</p> + +<p>“I saw it sent off about twenty minutes to ten,” +Gerald assured her.</p> + +<p>“We left for the Club at half-past nine,” Pauline +reflected, “but I am quite sure that there was no note +waiting for us when we got back. What was this man +like?”</p> + +<p>“They said that he was a Russian and that his name +was Zubin,” Gerald replied. “They also said that he +had won two million francs in the afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Zubin!” she exclaimed, with a little start. “Describe +him at once, if you please.”</p> + +<p>“That is easy,” Gerald acquiesced. “He must have +been at least six foot three or four, and he had tremendous +shoulders. He was one of the most powerful +looking men I have ever seen in my life. He had a sallow +complexion, a lined face, black eyes and a mass of +black and grey hair.”</p> + +<p>She put her hand upon his.</p> + +<p>“Stop the car, please,” she begged. “Turn round +as quickly as you can. I must go home.”</p> + +<p>Gerald ran on to an adjacent widening of the road, +reversed the car, and headed back for Monte Carlo.</p> + +<p>“If I had known that my news was going to shorten +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>our drive,” he grumbled, “I shouldn’t have mentioned +the fellow at all.”</p> + +<p>“My friend,” she said earnestly, “what you have +told me may be of immense benefit for me to know.”</p> + +<p>“You recognise the man, then?”</p> + +<p>“He is probably my aunt’s steward,” she confided, +after a moment’s hesitation. “There, you see I am +telling you secrets. Do you know whether he played +last night?”</p> + +<p>“I was only at the Club,” Gerald replied. “He did +not come there. Is there anything I can do? Would +you like me to go and look for him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you might do that,” she said thoughtfully. +“When you have dropped me, drive down to the Rooms. +If you find him there, touch him on the shoulder. Say +that Madame de Ponière awaits him. You will not forget +this?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll drive there at once,” Gerald promised.</p> + +<p>He set Pauline down, as usual, at the gates of her +villa. She scarcely stayed to say good-by, but her +smile was more gracious and her manner a little kinder. +It was obvious, however, that she was disturbed by his +information. Gerald, incurious though he was at most +times, felt a growing interest in his mission.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the Rooms, he walked straight through to +the Cercle Privé, visited each Roulette and <i>trente et +quarante</i> table, and strolled round the baccarat room. +There was no sign here of the man of whom he was in +search. He was already on his way out to the Sporting +Club when it occurred to him that the Russian might +be playing at one of the ordinary tables at the Casino. +He turned back and visited them one by one. Towards +the end of his quest, he was rewarded. Seated next to +the croupier, at the most remote table, with a little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>crowd of people behind his chair, and with a great pile +of notes before him, sat Monsieur Zubin.</p> + +<p>The Russian was betting in maximums, apparently +on some system, and with varying success. To all appearances, +he had not changed his clothes, bathed or +shaved since the evening before. There was an untidy +growth of beard upon his chin, a bloodshot streak in +his eyes; his collar and tie were crumpled; his hair, +over-luxuriant at the best of times, was unkempt and +disordered. He had a card in his hand, upon which he +marked the numbers as they came up, and from which +his attention never wandered until the final word of the +croupier was spoken, when he turned his attention to +the board. Gerald leaned towards the attendant seated +behind the croupier’s chair, under pretence of handing +him a small stake.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur gambles?” Gerald remarked, with an inclination +of his head towards the man who was the centre +of interest.</p> + +<p>The attendant turned around with an expressive little +nod.</p> + +<p>“Yesterday he broke the bank,” he whispered. “To-day +he can do nothing right.”</p> + +<p>“He is losing, then?”</p> + +<p>The man’s grimace was significant. Gerald watched +his own stake swept away and crossed to a place behind +the Russian’s chair. In one of the intervals, he leaned +over and touched him on the shoulder. The man took +no notice. Gerald whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>“Madame de Ponière awaits you at the Villa.”</p> + +<p>Zubin for a moment remained perfectly still. When +at last he turned around, his face was ghastly. With +his strong arm, he pushed back some one who intervened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>“Who are you?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I am merely a messenger,” Gerald replied. “I know +no more than that I was asked to give you that word if +I saw you at the Casino.”</p> + +<p>The Russian rose slowly to his feet, left one of the +plaques to guard his place, thrust a great pile of notes +into his pocket, and led Gerald into a corner.</p> + +<p>“You sat next to me last night at Ciro’s Grill,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Quite true,” Gerald assented.</p> + +<p>“You have been spying on me.”</p> + +<p>“That is, on the other hand, a falsehood,” Gerald +replied coldly.</p> + +<p>“It is through you that Madame knows I am in +Monte Carlo.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary,” Gerald reminded him, “you yourself +wrote a note to her and dispatched it by messenger +from Ciro’s.”</p> + +<p>“The note was brought back—Madame was out,” +the man declared. “It was an accursed accident, that.”</p> + +<p>“One gathers that you have not been fortunate to-day,” +Gerald remarked, after a brief silence.</p> + +<p>“That is my own affair,” was the grim reply. +“What I desire to know is how you became acquainted +with these ladies to such an extent that they should +appoint you as their messenger.”</p> + +<p>“I do not recognise your right to ask me questions,” +Gerald asserted, “but, as a matter of fact, my knowledge +of them is of the slightest. Actually, I do not +know them at all. I happened to have a few minutes’ +conversation with Mademoiselle de Ponière, and I mentioned +your winnings. You will remember that I saw +a letter from you to Madame last night.”</p> + +<p>Monsieur Zubin sat for a moment deep in thought.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>“Are you charged to deliver a reply to this message?” +he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not,” Gerald answered. “I have not the +privilege of visiting at the Villa.”</p> + +<p>“I should think not,” the other growled. “I wondered +only whether you had been told to take a message +to the back door.”</p> + +<p>“You are a very impertinent fellow,” Gerald told +him calmly. “You appear to have come from a country +where manners have ceased to exist.”</p> + +<p>The man laughed brutally.</p> + +<p>“One puts off manners when one deals with spies and +meddlers,” he declared. “Get on about your business.”</p> + +<p>He walked back and took his place at the table. +Gerald gazed after him in blank astonishment. Then +he heard a little murmur of laughter from the couch +behind, and, turning around, found seated there the girl +who had been the Russian’s other neighbour on the +previous night.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur grows no more amiable,” she remarked, +moving her head towards where Zubin had reseated himself. +“To-day, one perhaps excuses. Last night he +was like all his countrymen—savage, drunken with the +lust of gambling.”</p> + +<p>“And to-day?” Gerald observed.</p> + +<p>“To-day he loses all the time,” the girl replied. +“Sometimes he leaves the table and comes back here +and mutters to himself. Then he makes calculations +and returns. One wonders sometimes whether he is +playing with his own money.”</p> + +<p>Gerald left the Rooms a few minutes later and +strolled out into the Square. He was in some doubt as +to what he ought to do. Pauline had absolutely forbidden +him to communicate with her in any shape or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>form, yet he had a conviction that Zubin’s exploits in +the Casino should be made known to her. He strolled +across to the establishment of Madame Lénore. Madame +greeted him with a peculiarly knowing smile. He +drew her on one side.</p> + +<p>“Madame,” he said, “you make gowns for Mademoiselle +de Ponière.”</p> + +<p>The smile disappeared from Madame’s lips. Her face +became impassive.</p> + +<p>“It is true, milord,” she admitted. “What of it?”</p> + +<p>“Just this. You are doubtless in frequent communication +with her?”</p> + +<p>“Without a doubt,” Madame assented. “I shall +telephone her within a quarter of an hour. Some lace +she desired has just arrived.”</p> + +<p>“Then you can do me and her a great service,” Gerald +continued. “I have some slight acquaintance with +mademoiselle but I am not permitted to communicate +with her. It is important that she should know that +the Russian, Zubin, is gambling in the Casino, not in +the Cercle Privé, and losing heavily.”</p> + +<p>“A big man?” Madame asked quickly,—“almost a +giant?”</p> + +<p>“That is he,” Gerald assented.</p> + +<p>Madame turned towards the telephone.</p> + +<p>“Demand the Villa Violette,” she told the operator. +“Say that I wish to speak to Mademoiselle de Ponière +without delay.”</p> + +<p>Gerald turned away. Madame laid her fingers upon +his arm.</p> + +<p>“My congratulations, milord!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what on,” Gerald replied, a little ruefully. +“I am rather out of luck.”</p> + +<p>“The little peasant girl,” she whispered. “She is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>adorable. Such a figure I have never seen, such an air, +such simplicity and yet such grace. With her hair +done <i>à la Madonne</i>, and those eyes, under milord’s tutelage +she would turn the heads of half the men in +Europe.”</p> + +<p>Gerald sighed. The memory of the little scene earlier +in the day was once more before him.</p> + +<p>“You must remember that I have a co-guardian of +the strictest principles, Madame,” he said, “and besides, +that isn’t exactly what we are planning for her.”</p> + +<p>Madame, steeped in the philosophy of her environment, +shrugged her shoulders in genuine mystification. +Gerald took his leave a little hurriedly, to avoid the +comment which he felt was imminent.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madame de Ponière</span> dismissed the servants with a +little wave of the hand and looked thoughtfully for a +few moments into the fire of pine logs which had been +kindled in the grate. The dinner table at which she +and Pauline were seated was piled with dishes of expensive +fruits, and there was wine still in their glasses. +Nevertheless, Madame de Ponière had not the air of +one who has enjoyed her meal.</p> + +<p>“Pauline,” she said, “Zubin is already four days +late.”</p> + +<p>Pauline made no immediate reply. Her aunt pointed +to an escritoire which stood in a corner of the room.</p> + +<p>“These people,” she continued, “become abusive. +Even Lénore has sent an account. You dispatched the +telegram?”</p> + +<p>“I dispatched the telegram,” Pauline assented, “but +it was needless. Zubin is here.”</p> + +<p>“Here in Monte Carlo?” Madame de Ponière demanded +quickly.</p> + +<p>“I have heard so,” Pauline replied. “My information +is very scanty, but I understood that he had sent +you a letter last night.”</p> + +<p>The pallor of the older woman’s face seemed suddenly +deepened. Her eyes glittered ominously.</p> + +<p>“Jean spoke of a note that had been brought and +taken away,” she muttered. “Tell me at once what +you know, Pauline?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>“I have no definite information,” Pauline reiterated, +“but I understand that he has been seen at the Casino.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière sat like a woman who has received +a shock. The shadow of fear was upon her face.</p> + +<p>“You do not know Zubin,” she groaned. “If he once +smells the atmosphere of that place, it is like a deadly +drug to him. And he loses! He always loses!”</p> + +<p>She leaned over and struck a bell which stood upon +a table.</p> + +<p>“The car in a quarter of an hour,” she ordered. +“Pauline, get ready. We must seek Zubin. If he has +begun to gamble, he will go on to the end.”</p> + +<p>They drove first to the Casino, where they explored +only the Cercle Privé. From there they went to the +Sporting Club, where there was still no sign of him. +Madame de Ponière became more hopeful.</p> + +<p>“He is perhaps resting in his hotel,” she said, “preparing +to visit us.”</p> + +<p>“He would never come without sending word beforehand,” +Pauline reminded her. “Besides, there are the +ordinary tables at the Casino. We ought to have +looked there.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière gave a little shudder.</p> + +<p>“One sees too much of them as one passes through,” +she declared. “The people and the atmosphere are +intolerable.”</p> + +<p>They sat side by side on one of the settees, two rather +lonely and disheartened women face to face with +tragedy. Pauline saw Gerald in the distance and determined +upon a bold step.</p> + +<p>“Aunt,” she said, “there is a young man standing +by the easy-chair there, whose father lives at the adjoining +villa to ours. He has once or twice offered me +some small courtesies. He is alone and I am sure he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>would be glad to be useful. Let me send him to the +Casino.”</p> + +<p>“Show him to me,” Madame de Ponière demanded.</p> + +<p>Pauline pointed him out. Her aunt sighed.</p> + +<p>“One breaks a cherished tradition,” she said, “but +it must be done. I leave the matter in your hands.”</p> + +<p>Gerald and Christopher, strolling round the room, +came presently to within a few feet of them. Gerald, +bitterly though he resented it, was passing on after one +swift glance at Pauline. She leaned over, however, and +touched him on the arm.</p> + +<p>“Lord Dombey,” she said, “my aunt permits me to +present you. Lord Dombey—Madame de Ponière.”</p> + +<p>Gerald, taken by surprise, bore the shock well. He +bowed low and murmured a few polite words.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you will think that we are very mercenary,” +Pauline continued, “but we are going to ask +a favour.”</p> + +<p>“It is granted,” Gerald assured her swiftly.</p> + +<p>“There is a Russian gentleman in Monte Carlo named +Zubin.”</p> + +<p>“I know him by sight,” Gerald declared. “Besides——”</p> + +<p>“Then the rest is easy,” Pauline interrupted, with a +warning look. “Our request is that you search the +Casino for him, and, if he is there, that you bring him +to us.”</p> + +<p>Gerald bowed.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle,” he promised, “if he is there, I will +bring him to you within a quarter of an hour.”</p> + +<p>Gerald, on entering the Casino, made his way at once +to the table at the farther end. The seat which had +been occupied by Zubin, however, was vacant, though +the table itself was crowded. He was on the point of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>continuing his search in one of the other rooms, when +he suddenly saw the man of whom he was in search +seated on one of the sofas against the wall. He made +his way thither at once.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he said, “I have brought you a message from +Madame de Ponière.”</p> + +<p>The Russian lifted his head, and for a moment Gerald +was afraid that he had had a stroke. His eyes were +horribly red, the flesh about his cheek bones seemed to +have become drawn tight, and his cheeks to display new +hollows. His hands were trembling. All his truculence +of manner had departed.</p> + +<p>“From Madame de Ponière?” he repeated. “Where +is she?”</p> + +<p>“She is waiting now in the Sporting Club,” Gerald +replied. “I will take you to her if you will accompany +me.”</p> + +<p>The Russian rose to his feet and the two men left the +place. Many of the bystanders gazed after them, and +Gerald heard something of their whispers.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’ve been having rather a bad time,” +he remarked.</p> + +<p>His companion took no notice. He walked, indeed, +like a man in a nightmare. Not only was he unshaven, +but his clothes were creased and tumbled. He was altogether +a dishevelled-looking object.</p> + +<p>“Might I suggest,” Gerald said, as they descended +the steps of the Casino, “that you visit your hotel and +freshen up a little before you come to the Club?”</p> + +<p>Zubin seemed suddenly to step down from another +world. He looked vacantly at Gerald for a moment, +at his smoothly brushed hair, his well-cut dinner coat, +his faultless linen. Then, with a little start, he glanced +at himself and shrugged his shoulders ponderously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>“You are right, monsieur. Come this way.”</p> + +<p>He crossed the street with great strides and entered +the Hôtel de Paris. He turned once more to Gerald as +he entered the lift.</p> + +<p>“A quarter of an hour, monsieur,” he said. “I give +you my word that I will not keep you longer than +twenty minutes.”</p> + +<p>“I will be waiting here,” Gerald promised.</p> + +<p>After the departure of the lift, Gerald made his way +by means of the private passage to the Sporting Club. +Madame de Ponière and her niece were seated where he +had left them, the elder lady sipping some coffee, +Pauline looking around her with a languid air of half-amused +interest. Save for the fact that Madame de +Ponière’s lips tightened a little as she saw Gerald alone, +there was not the slightest indication in their manner +or expression that they were confronted in any way +with an exceptional situation.</p> + +<p>“I have found our friend,” he announced. “He is +making some alterations to his toilet. I am meeting +him in a few minutes and shall bring him here.”</p> + +<p>“Was he playing?” Pauline enquired.</p> + +<p>“Not when I arrived,” was the cautious reply.</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière stirred her coffee negligently.</p> + +<p>“Had he,” she asked, “the air of a man who has +been losing?”</p> + +<p>“I fear,” Gerald admitted, “that he rather gave me +that impression.”</p> + +<p>Pauline smiled up at him.</p> + +<p>“It is very good of you to give yourself so much +trouble,” she said. “My aunt and I are greatly indebted +to you. Please do not lose any time in bringing +Monsieur Zubin here.”</p> + +<p>The words were almost a dismissal. Gerald made his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>way back through the passage and took a seat in the +lounge of the hotel. Within the time promised, a transformed +Monsieur Zubin made his appearance. Gerald +found it difficult to restrain his surprise. His dinner +suit was faultlessly cut, his black pearl studs were +marvellous. He had been carefully shaved and his hair +had been trimmed. He carried white kid gloves in his +hand, a glossy silk hat, and a malacca cane crowned +with malachite. He came over at once to Gerald and +signed to a waiter who was hovering about with a bottle +upon a tray.</p> + +<p>“You will give me three minutes,” he begged. “I +was interested in a series of numbers, and I forgot to +dine. I have ordered a bottle of wine. You will perhaps +join me.”</p> + +<p>“Very good of you,” Gerald replied. “It is rather +between times for me. I’ll have a <i>fine champagne</i>, if I +may.”</p> + +<p>Monsieur Zubin bowed gravely and the brandy was +brought. Without turning a hair, he drank two tumblerfuls +of the wine. Then he turned courteously to his +companion.</p> + +<p>“If you have no objection,” he proposed, “we will +walk outside to the Sporting Club. The distance is the +same and the air is fresher.”</p> + +<p>Gerald assented readily, and they started off side by +side. The Russian was walking with his shoulders back, +like a man on parade, and Gerald suddenly felt that his +own stature had become insignificant. All the way his +companion seemed to be reciting to himself in some +foreign tongue, reciting something which now and then +seemed to have the swing of blank verse. As they +reached the steps which led up to the Sporting Club, +he came to a full stop and glanced around.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>“Young man,” he said, facing Gerald, “you are +probably a little curious about me. This is the truth. +Let those know it who may be interested. I am the +steward of Madame de Ponière and the trustee of as +much as is left of her revenues. I came here ashamed +of their scantiness, and the wild idea of enlarging them +at the tables occurred to me. I have failed. There is +a <i>voiture</i> here, you see, by my side, and the commissionaire +is there to help you. I apologise for the trouble +I am giving. I charge you to deliver the expression +of my undying devotion to Madame and Mademoiselle.”</p> + +<p>His right hand, which had been fumbling in the +pocket of his dinner coat, shot out like lightning. A +small revolver, flashing in the electric light, was pressed +to his temple. There were two almost simultaneous reports. +The last conscious action of the man was to +half throw himself through the door of the carriage.</p> + +<p>Rumours were already floating about the Club when +Gerald hurried in, five minutes later. Both women +looked at him in half-fearful enquiry. Gerald was very +grave.</p> + +<p>“Madame,” he announced, “I bring bad news.”</p> + +<p>Madame unfurled her black lace fan and fanned herself +slowly.</p> + +<p>“One hears that a man has shot himself outside,” she +said. “It is, perhaps, the man whom I sent you to +seek?”</p> + +<p>“It is he,” Gerald acknowledged.</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière rose to her feet. She was an +ugly woman whom, up to that moment, Gerald had detested. +He found himself now admiring her profoundly. +She leaned a little upon the stick which she carried in +her left hand. Her right she extended towards Gerald.</p> + +<p>“If you will give me the support of your arm downstairs, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>Lord Dombey, I shall be glad,” she continued. +“I am an old woman, and these shocks become more +poignant with the years. Zubin was a faithful servant +of my house. I am much affected.”</p> + +<p>They made their slow progress from the room. Madame +held her head high. Mademoiselle was a little +paler than usual, but her good night to the commissionaire +was as clear and gracious as ever. No signs +of any disturbance remained outside,—Monte Carlo +knows how to deal with these things. Their automobile +was already in attendance, and the two women took +their places at once.</p> + +<p>“We are much obliged for your assistance, Lord +Dombey,” Madame declared. “I regret that we should +have given you so tragical an errand.”</p> + +<p>“You will permit me to call, perhaps, at the Villa?” +Gerald begged.</p> + +<p>“I shall not be receiving for several days,” Madame +replied. “If you are so gracious as to leave a card, my +servants will tell you when I am disposed to see friends.”</p> + +<p>The car glided off. Madame leaned back with closed +eyes. Gerald caught just a faint glimpse of Pauline’s +profile, ivory pale, a gleam of terror in her eyes, as +though she knew that they were passing over the spot +where Zubin had died.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was after dinner at the Villa Acacia, and Lady +Mary and Christopher, hardiest of the little gathering, +were strolling back and forth on the terrace in the +violet darkness. Arc-like, at their feet, stretched the +lights of the Bay of Mentone. The whole hillside seemed +dotted with little points of fire from the distant villas. +Out at sea, sheet lightning sometimes parted the dense +clouds and spread a broad, phantasmal glare upon the +rocking waves. The two were old enough friends to +speak intimately on many topics. They were talking +to-night of Gerald.</p> + +<p>“Gerald, as a rule,” his sister declared, “is almost +over-candid about his love affairs. This is certainly +the first time I remember him to have been mysterious.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he has seen anything of Mademoiselle +de Ponière since the tragedy at the Sporting Club,” +Christopher remarked.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t for want of trying, then,” the girl replied +drily. “He’s called there every afternoon since. I’ve +been mean enough to watch him up the drive with my +glasses, but he hasn’t been allowed in once. They must +be queer people.”</p> + +<p>“There was a distinct suggestion at first,” Christopher +observed, “that they were adventuresses. Their +present attitude doesn’t seem like it.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary leaned over to gather a sprig of the +trailing oleander. She was very becomingly dressed in +a gown of deep rose taffeta, one which Christopher remembered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>that he had admired on a previous visit. +She had completely lost her slight brusqueness of manner. +Her tone and eyes were soft, as though the magic +of the night had had its effect upon her.</p> + +<p>“Really,” she sighed, “you young men who should +be our greatest comfort are actually our greatest responsibility. +First of all you pick up a peasant girl +on the road, over whom you both seem to have lost your +heads more or less, and now Gerald is behaving like a +lunatic about this young foreign woman.”</p> + +<p>“Has Gerald told you of the latest developments with +regard to Myrtile?” Christopher enquired.</p> + +<p>“Good gracious, no!” Mary replied. “Have you +found a post for her, or something?”</p> + +<p>“Her father and fiancé turned up,” Christopher declared,—“perfect +brutes, both of them. We bought +the child between us for five thousand francs.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary frowned.</p> + +<p>“Exactly what do you mean, Christopher?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“Crudely put, but a statement of fact, nevertheless,” +was the prompt reply. “Her stepfather and this other +man came and made the dickens of a row; Gerald took +the matter in hand and soon discovered that they were +the usual covetous type of grasping peasant. We paid +down five thousand francs between us, and they signed +a paper giving up all claim to her.”</p> + +<p>“So now she is on your hands permanently,” Mary +remarked.</p> + +<p>“I imagine so,” Christopher acknowledged. “On the +other hand, I do not think that she will be a serious +charge. I have some friends in London who have promised +to take her for a nursery governess.”</p> + +<p>“Are either of you in love with her?” Mary asked, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>raising her eyes and looking her companion in the +face.</p> + +<p>Christopher hesitated for several moments before answering. +Mary began to tear into small pieces the +sprig of oleander which she was holding. Her face +seemed suddenly to have become very white and tired.</p> + +<p>“I am sure that Gerald is not,” Christopher answered. +“As for me—well, that sort of thing is a +little out of my line, isn’t it? The most serious part of +the situation is that I am afraid the child is in love with +Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“She will get over that,” Mary said drily. “Most +of the girls I know have been in love with Gerald at +some time or another. Sooner or later, the wise ones +find him out and the butterfly ones flit away somewhere +else. It may seem unsisterly, but I am more concerned +about you, Christopher, than Gerald.”</p> + +<p>He passed his arm through hers, an action which +their increasing intimacy seemed to render perfectly +natural.</p> + +<p>“Mary,” he began, “you are just the one person in +the world to whom I could confess an impulse of folly, +and this is, I suppose, the one place I could do it in. +I frankly don’t understand what you mean by being in +love. When I have thought of marriage, it has been in +connection with some dear woman friend who would +make a home for me and be a companion. Of course, I +expected to care for her and all that, but—promise +you won’t laugh at me?”</p> + +<p>“I shall not laugh,” Mary promised.</p> + +<p>“For the first time in my life, that child has made me +think of other things,” Christopher acknowledged simply. +“I don’t know that it amounts to anything, I +dare say really it is an unsuspected vein of kindness +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>which she has touched; but there it is. I have an absurd +feeling of fondness for her. The idea of her becoming +a plaything for Gerald or anybody makes a +madman of me.”</p> + +<p>“And she?”</p> + +<p>“Looks upon me as a kind person but an intolerable +nuisance. She dreams of nobody but Gerald. If he +lifts his little finger, she is his.”</p> + +<p>“Really!” Mary drawled coldly.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t judge her too harshly,” Christopher +begged. “Myrtile is temperamentally incapable of a +mean or an immoral action. She is just a child of nature, +only instead of being swayed by the lower instincts, +she is swayed by the higher ones. She loves +Gerald, and nothing else counts with her. She would +have thrown herself into the river sooner than have +given herself in marriage to the innkeeper. She is +equally capable of giving her life and her soul to Gerald, +if he requires the sacrifice.”</p> + +<p>Mary turned her head towards the window.</p> + +<p>“I think that father wants his game of backgammon,” +she observed. “We had better go in, I am +afraid. We must talk of this again sometime. Will +you go first and say that I shall be there directly?”</p> + +<p>Christopher stepped obediently through the window, +and Mary passed on to the farther end of the terrace, +where the shadows were deeper. For a moment her self-control +slipped away. Her fingers gripped the ivy +stalks fiercely. There were tears in her eyes, her rather +firm but sensitive little mouth quivered passionately. +It seemed so many years since Christopher had first +represented to her all that she desired in manhood,—a +man of character, a worker, a sportsman when the +time came, always ambitious, always ready to pit his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>brain against others. She had fancied him in Parliament, +a Cabinet Minister later in life, perhaps. She +had thought with happiness of the many ways in which +she could further his career; had dreamed with pleasure +of playing hostess for him in a joint establishment.—She +had pictured to herself, for weeks before their +arrival, the coming of these two young men, had speculated +joyfully as to the reason for Christopher’s unexpected +holiday. She had told herself that he, too, +had seen the things she had seen, had felt what she had +prayed he might feel. Womanlike, she had taken note +of the signs. She had known that the consummation +of her wish was inevitable, unless something should +come between. And something had most unexpectedly +come between—this peasant girl, this birth of a spurious +sentiment—nothing, in a man like Gerald, but very +much to be dreaded in a person of Christopher’s poise +and steadfastness. She was a proud young woman, for +all her gracious ways, and, although she refused to find +anything final in his attitude, the pain that she suffered +in those few moments was not only of the heart.</p> + +<p>Christopher and his host, in the intervals of their +game, talked of the latest suicide. With the usual +amazing secrecy of the local Press, not one word had +appeared in any paper published in the vicinity.</p> + +<p>“I feel a great deal of sympathy for our neighbours,” +Lord Hinterleys remarked. “Old Colonel Huskinson, +whom I met on the Terrace this morning, told +me that the man was bringing them money for some +estates he had sold, which were practically their only +means of subsistence.”</p> + +<p>Gerald looked up from the sofa where he was lying. +He had complained of a bad headache earlier in the +evening.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>“I suppose, sometime or other,” he said, “the true +story of that man will be known everywhere, and his +actual connection with the De Ponières. The magistrate +or coroner, or whatever he was, knew it this +morning, but he wasn’t giving anything away.”</p> + +<p>“There seems to be a great deal of needless secrecy +about the matter,” his father observed. “You were +present in court, I suppose, Gerald?”</p> + +<p>“I was fetched by a small army of gendarmes,” Gerald +told them. “They escorted me there in a carriage, +although the court house was only about half a mile +away. It was the quaintest scene. They were simply +out for hushing the whole thing up in the most extraordinary +manner. They summoned us there, but they +apparently didn’t want anything from us in the shape +of evidence. All that they were anxious about was to +get rid of us as soon as they could.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys had paused in his game.</p> + +<p>“This is really a most extraordinary procedure,” he +declared. “Do you mean to say, Gerald, that no witnesses +at all were called?”</p> + +<p>“Not a soul,” Gerald replied. “The whole affair, +from our point of view, was a farce. One was led to +believe that he committed suicide for family reasons or +because he had an incurable complaint. I saw Pritili, +the manager of the hotel, just as I was coming out this +evening, and I asked him pointblank who the man really +was and whether the story he had told me himself were +true. I was interested in knowing, because it was I who +had fetched him away from the Casino at the request +of the lady whose steward he was supposed to be. +Pritili answered me as I have never been answered by +a hotel manager in my life. He drew himself up and +looked like an archbishop. ‘It is one of those things, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>milord, into which one does not enquire,’ he said. So +that was an end of me.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys picked up his hand. Mary came in +from the terrace and seated herself by Gerald’s side. +The quietness of the evening, however, was almost immediately +disturbed. The butler threw open the door, +announcing guests.</p> + +<p>“The Ladies Victoria and Millicent Cromwell, Mr. +James Cromwell, Lady Esseden.”</p> + +<p>They all trooped in—intimates of the young people +of the house.</p> + +<p>“We want you to come down to the Club for an +hour or two,” Lady Victoria, who was always the leading +spirit, suggested. “Dad’s just paid my dress allowance, +and I’m dying to lose it, and Jimmy’s going +to give us supper and take us to dance somewhere afterwards.”</p> + +<p>“Added to which,” her sister, Lady Millicent, went +on, “we have brought you news.”</p> + +<p>They were all suddenly attentive. Gerald, who had +risen to his feet, leaned a little forward.</p> + +<p>“News?” Christopher repeated. “From England?”</p> + +<p>“No, you idiot!” Lady Victoria declared. “What +news should there be from England? There’s no polo +or cricket or tennis yet, and most of the people we +know have already run away with some one, so there’s +not even scandal left. We know all about the man who +committed suicide the other night.”</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence, a most effective background +for Lady Victoria’s announcement.</p> + +<p>“They tried hard to keep it secret,” she said, “but +an English journalist discovered the truth. The man’s +name was Zubin, and he was the steward of two unfortunate +ladies who live near you. He had just arrived +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>from Russia with a large sum of money for them, +went into the Rooms, gambled with it and lost the lot. +They say that it was nearly three million francs and +that it was every penny those poor women had in the +world.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christopher</span> and Gerald were taking an early morning +stroll and displaying an almost feminine partiality +for the shop windows, when the former suddenly felt +his friend’s hand tighten upon his arm. They had +paused to look through the plate-glass window of a +jeweller’s shop in the Rue de Paris.</p> + +<p>“What is it, old chap?” Christopher asked.</p> + +<p>Gerald pointed to a pearl necklace which hung in +the window.</p> + +<p>“You see that?” he exclaimed tragically. “That +belonged to Pauline—to Mademoiselle de Ponière. +And that marquise ring below—I am perfectly certain +her aunt was wearing it. Wait a moment, old fellow.”</p> + +<p>Gerald entered the shop hastily. A very suave +Frenchman came forward to meet him.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me anything about that pearl necklace +and the rings below?” Gerald enquired.</p> + +<p>“But certainly, sir,” the man replied. “One moment.”</p> + +<p>He unfastened the window and brought out the +stand on which the necklace rested. The colour of the +pearls was wonderful. They were not large, but they +had an almost pink glow.</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt monsieur is a judge and I need +say little about these pearls,” the shopman began. “I +would point out to you, however, that they were matched +for royalty itself, and the quality of each one is superlative. +If monsieur is a purchaser, I could quote him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>seven thousand pounds, and for that sum there is not +such another necklace in the world.”</p> + +<p>“I recognise the necklace,” Gerald admitted. “I +might, under certain circumstances, be induced to buy +it. I came in, however, to ask you how you obtained +possession of it, and the rings below?”</p> + +<p>The man’s manner changed.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur,” he said, “I am not able to explain exactly +how this jewellery came into our hands. There +are certain confidences which, in the interests of our +clients, we are forced to respect.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” Gerald agreed, “but I can assure you +that I am not an impertinent enquirer. This is my +name,”—he handed the man a card—“and I was an +acquaintance of Mademoiselle de Ponière, from whom +you must have obtained this necklace. I last saw Madame +and Mademoiselle de Ponière under very tragical +circumstances, and I understand that they have now +left Monte Carlo. I am most anxious to obtain word +as to their whereabouts.”</p> + +<p>“As regards that, milord,” the jeweller said, with a +measure of increased respect but with no signs of yielding, +“I regret that I am unable to help you. The +transaction, such as it was, is finished. I was entrusted +with no address.”</p> + +<p>“You would not buy jewellery of such value,” Gerald +persisted, “unless you knew something of your clients. +You can probably tell me whether De Ponière is their +real name, and you can at least give me a hint as to +where they are to be found.”</p> + +<p>“I regret deeply that I am entirely powerless in the +matter, milord,” the man replied.</p> + +<p>Gerald held up the pearls and let them slip through +his fingers. He remembered something which Pauline +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>had once said to him,—“Pearls are the maidens’ children. +They love and care for them as such.”</p> + +<p>“I have reason to surmise,” Gerald went on, “that +a misfortune has befallen these ladies. If they had +confided in me, it would have given me the greatest +pleasure to have offered them assistance.”</p> + +<p>The jeweller smiled inscrutably.</p> + +<p>“I fear that it would have been useless, milord,” he +said. “I have had the privilege of knowing the elder +of these ladies for some thirty years, and I supplied +the first string of pearls which the younger lady ever +wore, at the time of her confirmation. I would willingly +have undertaken the payment of such debts as were +owing in Monte Carlo, without security, but I should +never have had the courage to suggest it. You will see +an announcement in the evening paper, milord, that all +claims against the ladies will be settled by me on demand.”</p> + +<p>“If I buy the necklace,” Gerald proposed bluntly, +“will you tell me how and where to find Mademoiselle +de Ponière?”</p> + +<p>The jeweller’s bow was almost frigid.</p> + +<p>“My word is passed to these two ladies, milord. I +have no information whatever to give you.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot even tell me what relation they were +to Monsieur Zubin?”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Zubin?” the jeweller repeated, a little +vaguely.</p> + +<p>“The man who committed suicide a few nights ago +outside the Sporting Club.”</p> + +<p>The jeweller shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“There is no question of relationship, milord. +Monsieur Zubin was, I understand, the steward entrusted +with the realisation of certain properties belonging +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>to Mademoiselle. I do not know whether I +have a right even to say so much,” he continued, after +a moment’s hesitation, “but it suggests itself that it +was owing to Monsieur Zubin’s embezzlements—he is +reported to have lost several millions at the tables here—that +the ladies whom we have been discussing found +themselves temporarily embarrassed.”</p> + +<p>Gerald laid down the pearls.</p> + +<p>“If you care to keep these for me for a week,” he +proposed, “until I get the money from London, I will +have them.”</p> + +<p>The man bowed.</p> + +<p>“Milord can take them with him,” he said, “or permit +me to send them to the hotel. Payment can be as +desired.”</p> + +<p>“You can send them round to the Hôtel de Paris,” +Gerald directed. “If you are as loyal to all your +clients, you deserve to prosper in your business.”</p> + +<p>The man bowed lower than ever as he showed Gerald +out.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps some day,” he said, “it will be my privilege +to explain to milord that loyalty.”</p> + +<p>“I have committed an extravagance,” Gerald confessed, +as the two young men continued their stroll.</p> + +<p>“You have bought the presents for your supper +party?” Christopher suggested.</p> + +<p>“I never thought of them,” was the candid reply. +“I have given seven thousand pounds for a pearl necklace.”</p> + +<p>“Great Scott! Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because I was right in my surmise. It was Pauline’s +necklace, left there so that they could pay their +bills. Madame’s rings are there, too. Pretty sort of +adventuresses, Christopher!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>“But what are you going to do with the necklace?” +Christopher, always intensely practical, demanded.</p> + +<p>“I am going to keep it until I meet Mademoiselle de +Ponière again,” Gerald replied. “Then I shall beg to +be allowed to present it to her.”</p> + +<p>“Have you found out who she is?”</p> + +<p>“I have not, but I have found a loyal and honest +tradesman. If I had asked him another question, I +should have felt a cad.”</p> + +<p>Christopher looked up towards the hills.</p> + +<p>“It’s too misty for golf,” he said. “Shall we go and +see Myrtile?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” Gerald agreed, without marked interest. +“Any news from your nursery governess +friends?”</p> + +<p>“They can’t take her for a month or so,” Christopher +replied. “I don’t quite know what to do about it. +I must leave on Thursday week.”</p> + +<p>Gerald laughed.</p> + +<p>“And you daren’t trust her here with me, old chap, is +that it?”</p> + +<p>“Something like it, I’m afraid,” the other admitted +frankly.</p> + +<p>Gerald sighed.</p> + +<p>“What a Lothario you must think me!” he declared. +“As a matter of fact, Chris, I don’t think that the ingénue +does attract me very much. I am too young and +unsophisticated myself. It is hardened sinners like +you who are bowled over by rusticity and morals. I +prefer something a little more advanced in the world’s +ways.”</p> + +<p>“Then, for heaven’s sake, leave the others alone!” +Christopher enjoined curtly. “We have a difficult task +before us with Myrtile, especially as, for once in her life, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>Mary doesn’t seem inclined to help us. Treat the child +sensibly, for heaven’s sake.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by ‘sensibly’, old chap?”</p> + +<p>“Well, remember that she has to be a nursery governess +and not a Parisian demi-mondaine. It’s idiotic +to take her to these smart restaurants and dancing +places. It’s outside her life. It gives her false ideas.”</p> + +<p>“This from the man who took her to the Opera on a +gala night!” Gerald scoffed.</p> + +<p>“I took her to the Opera in a small box and in her +ordinary clothes,” Christopher retorted. “I took her +for the sake of the music, and she didn’t think of a thing +except the music from the beginning to the end.”</p> + +<p>“Frankly, you bore me about Myrtile,” Gerald declared. +“You ought to have been born in the days of +dear old Oliver Cromwell. My idea is that girls were +made to live like butterflies, to be happy just in the few +hours when the sun shines.”</p> + +<p>“You have not even the philosophy of the pagan,” +Christopher retorted. “You forget that the butterfly +enjoys the supreme advantage of being unencumbered +with a soul.”</p> + +<p>The street door was suddenly opened in their faces. +They had arrived at Myrtile’s lodgings, to find her issuing +into the street. She seemed to look through Christopher +at Gerald, who was a pace or two behind. Her +smile was wonderful.</p> + +<p>“I knew that something pleasant was going to happen +this morning!” she exclaimed. “I felt it when I +got up.”</p> + +<p>“You were quite right,” Gerald assured her. “Something +very pleasant is going to happen. I am going to +take you over to Nice in the car to lunch.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile clapped her hands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>“Wait one moment,” she begged. “I must go and +get some different gloves. I’ll catch you up before you +get to the corner of the street.”</p> + +<p>The two young men strolled slowly on. There was +a serious expression on Christopher’s face.</p> + +<p>“I am lunching with your people to-day, Gerald—at +least I promised to if there was no golf,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“I heard Mary say so,” was the indifferent reply. +“Good luck to you!”</p> + +<p>“And you are taking Myrtile to Nice—Mademoiselle +de Ponière having left,” Christopher continued thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Gerald frowned.</p> + +<p>“That was rather my idea,” he admitted. “Have +you anything against it?”</p> + +<p>Christopher passed his hand through his friend’s +arm. They had reached the end of the street and +turned slowly back again.</p> + +<p>“Look here, old fellow, don’t be shirty,” he begged. +“You know I’m right. We can only look after this +girl decently in one way, and that is by finding her some +sort of a situation not too far removed from the way +she has been brought up, in which she can earn an honest +living. I’m on my way to secure this for her, but if +you go turning her head by taking her about to these +smart restaurants, and developing her taste for the +gaieties of life, you’ll only unsettle her terribly and +spoil her chances of contentment.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve taken her out yourself once or twice,” Gerald +reminded him.</p> + +<p>“I never take her to the very fashionable places,” +Christopher insisted earnestly, “and I try all the time +to impress upon her the necessity of work and the fact +that life out here is merely a holiday existence. Take +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>her to Nice, by all means, if you want to, Gerald, but +don’t turn her head.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile came down the street towards them. Gerald’s +face cleared—as he watched her, it was lit with +a wave of admiration.</p> + +<p>“She is like a piece of floating sunshine,” he declared +enthusiastically. “Chris, I’m not at all sure that she +ought to be a nursery governess. She’s going to be +beautiful enough to turn the heads of half the men in +Europe.”</p> + +<p>“It will be very largely our responsibility,” Christopher +said, lowering his voice a little as Myrtile drew +near, “whether that beauty is going to be a curse or a +happiness to her. Don’t you forget that, Gerald—or +our bargain.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span> was absolutely amazed as he led Myrtile back +to their seat in the palm court of the hotel. They had +lunched, wandered about the town, and afterwards made +their way back to the hotel lounge, where a Thé Dansant +was in progress.</p> + +<p>“Why, where on earth did you learn to dance like +that, Myrtile?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>She laughed softly.</p> + +<p>“Learn?” she exclaimed. “Why, there has never +been any one to teach me. I have never had a lesson in +my life. I just listened to the music and watched the +people, and then I saw that it was quite easy. Oh, how +I love it!”</p> + +<p>“What a pity I can’t have you to my supper party +to-night!” Gerald sighed.</p> + +<p>She leaned towards him. She was still a little out of +breath. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes aglow.</p> + +<p>“Mayn’t I come, please, Gerald?” she begged. “I +should be so happy.”</p> + +<p>Gerald looked doubtful.</p> + +<p>“There would be the devil to pay with Christopher,” +he pointed out. “And, besides, it really isn’t the place +for you.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she persisted.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s a Bohemian sort of affair,” Gerald explained, +a little awkwardly. “The girls aren’t all of +them just what they should be.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile laughed again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>“But what does that matter?” she protested. +“They will not hurt me or I them. When I am not +dancing with you, I can sit alone and talk to no one.”</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Can’t be done, little girl,” he decided regretfully. +“Christopher is quite right when he says I ought not to +encourage the taste for that sort of life in you at all. +These girls all drink a lot of champagne, and smoke +furiously—lead rotten lives, most of them—and their +conversation sometimes—well, it wouldn’t be fit for +you to listen to. Some evening or other I’ll have quite +a small party—just one or two who I know are all +right.”</p> + +<p>“That isn’t what I want,” Myrtile declared. “I +want to go to the party to-night. You will dance with +other girls if I am not there. I don’t want you to—not +to-day, at any rate. You have danced with me, +and it was wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“I begin to think that I don’t want to dance with +any one else myself,” Gerald confessed, looking at her +admiringly. “I’ll think it over on the way back.”</p> + +<p>“Must we start now?” she asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>“This moment,” Gerald insisted. “I have to dine +with the family. It’s their last night. They are off to +England to-morrow. I tell you what we’ll do, though, +if you like. We’ll take the mountain road.”</p> + +<p>“Is it longer?”</p> + +<p>“About half an hour,” he replied. “There won’t be +nearly so much traffic, though, and I love putting the +old ’bus at the hills.”</p> + +<p>They made their way out to the open space in front +of the hotel, where Gerald had left the car, and very +soon they were on their way homeward. Driving, for +the first half-hour, absorbed Gerald’s whole attention, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>and Myrtile leaned back in the low seat by his side, filled +with the joy of their rapid ascent, the smooth, birdlike +motion which seemed to be taking them, with scarcely +an effort, up into the clouds. Soon all the signs of +over-population which spoil the effect of the coast road +became blurred and undistinguishable. The natural +beauties of that wonderful line of coast reasserted themselves. +Up here in the mountains were no cafés with +flamboyant invitations, or jerry-built villas. One had +the sensation of being lifted out of the tawdriness and +artificiality of a region over-abundant in tourists, a little +over-anxious to display for their benefit its charms.—Once +Myrtile turned her head as they were about to +round the last corner of the ascent, and looked backwards. +Gerald, with quick comprehension, understood +her thoughts and spoke for the first time.</p> + +<p>“This is the real road, Myrtile,” he said. “It +comes straight from Cannes, straight from the gate over +which you leaned. The other we only took that night +for safety.”</p> + +<p>Her beautiful eyes sought for his and were rewarded +with a momentary glance of sympathy. Gerald was at +his best when driving. The slight weakness of his face +disappeared in the concentration of watching the road. +He drove always with his head a little thrown back, not +in any way the action of a poseur, but simply the fixed +desire of the born motorist to see as far as possible +ahead of him.</p> + +<p>“I think,” Myrtile whispered, “that this is the real +road which leads to happiness. The road down there is +tangled and twisted. Here one seems to breathe more +wonderfully, to come nearer to the things one feels but +does not understand. It is more like the air around the +farm, when I used to get up sometimes before the sunrise +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>and walk through the violet patch and the cypresses to +the gate. The sun rose at the end of the road.”</p> + +<p>“You are a quaint child, Myrtile,” Gerald reflected. +“I wonder what would have happened to you if we had +not passed along that night.”</p> + +<p>She shivered.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she answered. “I am quite sure that I +know. I felt it in my heart when I leaned over the gate +and looked to the end of the road. There was the mystery +there towards which I seemed always to have +groped. That night it was the mystery of life or the +mystery of death. You came, and it was life.”</p> + +<p>They were travelling more slowly now, crawling along +the level stretch of ledge-like road at its extreme summit. +Gerald had never before felt the fascination of +the girl by his side as he felt it in those moments. He +stretched out his left hand and she gripped it in hers, +tearing off her gloves so that her fingers could clasp +his.</p> + +<p>“And since it is life,” he asked, “is the mystery passing?”</p> + +<p>Her eyes were swimming with the desire of happiness.</p> + +<p>“There is no mystery any longer,” she told him. “I +know what lies at the end of the road, where the sun +used to rise. I know now.”</p> + +<p>He moved a little uneasily. The descent was commencing, +and he needed his left hand. There were portents +already of the short twilight. Here and there, an +early light glimmered out amongst the hills. The air +was cool and crisp. Gerald, impressionable as ever, felt +the spurious glow of exaltation, spurious because its influence +was wholly external. His face became graver, +his tone was almost stern.</p> + +<p>“What we hope you will find there,” he said, “is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>happiness. Christopher has explained to you about +this post in England?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“You will like it?”</p> + +<p>“No!”</p> + +<p>He rounded a difficult corner and brought the car to +a standstill in a wall-encircled arc of the road, a little +space thrown out like a bay window, where one may +pause for a moment from the strain of driving. Below +lay the wonderful bay, the rock of Monaco, the white +Casino standing over the dark blue sea. More lights +were flashing out now. The blurred landscape seemed +to gain in beauty of outline what it lost in colour.</p> + +<p>“But you must be happy, Myrtile. We want you to +be happy,” Gerald declared.</p> + +<p>“If you want me to be happy,” she whispered, “I +shall always be happy because it is you—you——”</p> + +<p>Gerald, a moment ago, had been full of good intentions, +of good advice. Myrtile leaned towards him. +Her slim body, sweet but throbbing with eagerness, +prayed for his embrace. Her left arm stole out towards +his shoulder, as though to turn his head.</p> + +<p>“Gerald!” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile!” he begged, “you must not——”</p> + +<p>Then all Gerald’s good resolutions crumbled for the +moment. Her lips were pressed to his, warm and sweet, +passionate with the fervour which comes from the soul +alone, which takes no count of lesser things than the +Heaven where, to the innocent, love only dwells. She +rested in his arms, tumultuously happy. Somewhere in +the field below was a bonfire of fallen pine boughs, and +for years afterwards the smell of burning wood, fragrant +and aromatic, brought back to Gerald the memory +of those few seconds.—There was a flash of lights +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>below from an approaching automobile. Gerald drew +away, pale and a little remorseful. Myrtile’s face was +like the face of a child who has seen Heaven.</p> + +<p>“We must get on,” he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>She lay back in her place without moving until they +began the last descent into the town.</p> + +<p>“May I come to your party to-night, Gerald—now?” +she whispered.</p> + +<p>“No!”</p> + +<p>She laughed quietly to herself. There was no longer +any shadow of disappointment in her face.</p> + +<p>“But you are very foolish,” she remonstrated. +“How can you think that it would not be well for me +to be where you are? Besides, I want you to dance +with me. They are very beautiful young ladies who +come to your parties—Christopher showed me some of +them at the Opera.”</p> + +<p>“There is not one of them so beautiful as you,” he +declared.</p> + +<p>She smiled happily.</p> + +<p>“Will you think so to-night?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I shall think so all the time—and I shall miss you +horribly,” he assured her.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you will, perhaps you will not,” she replied +enigmatically. “You must put me down here. This is +my corner.”</p> + +<p>She jumped lightly down, with only a touch of his +fingers for farewell. Gerald, although he had set a +stern face against the rush of ideas and anticipations +which were crowding into his brain, felt a little pang of +disappointment as she left him without further protest. +He would never have allowed her to come, he told himself, +as he drove slowly off. Yet at that moment he had +a vision. He escaped a taxicab by a few inches.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>Myrtile waited until Gerald was out of sight. Then +she crossed the Square, walked a few steps along the +Rue de Paris, paused before the curtained door of Madame +Lénore’s little establishment, and pushed it open. +Madame Lénore herself came forward. There was +something sinister, though not unfriendly, in the smile +with which she greeted her visitor.</p> + +<p>“What can I do for mademoiselle?” she enquired.</p> + +<p>“Can I have the clothes for the evening which you +showed me when I first came here?” Myrtile asked, a +little anxiously.</p> + +<p>“But certainly, Mademoiselle,” the Frenchwoman answered +graciously. “Mademoiselle desires them for +this evening?”</p> + +<p>“I want to wear them to-night,” was the happy +reply.</p> + +<p>Madame studied the slim figure before her, followed +its beautiful lines, yielding her half grudging, half cynical +admiration to its undeveloped perfection. Then she +studied the girl’s face. She had not a doubt in her +mind as to what this visit meant. She decided that, if +she were properly handled, this peasant child might +bring fame even to her establishment.</p> + +<p>“There are some other things mademoiselle will require,” +she said thoughtfully, “and it will be necessary +for mademoiselle to have the coiffeur. Mademoiselle +will place herself in my hands for the evening? I will +promise that there is not a girl in Monte Carlo who will +be half so beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“I want to look as nice as it is possible for me to +look,” Myrtile confided. “I will do just as you say, +Madame.”</p> + +<p>“Is it a party which mademoiselle desires to attend?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>“A supper party,” Myrtile replied. “It is at half-past +eleven.”</p> + +<p>“At the Hôtel de Paris?”</p> + +<p>“Yes!”</p> + +<p>Madame glanced at the clock.</p> + +<p>“If mademoiselle will return at eight o’clock,” she +said, “I will have a coiffeur here and give him instructions +myself. Afterwards, we will dress her. I live +here—my assistant and I—on the floor above. It +will not incommode us.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be quite punctual,” Myrtile promised. +“You are very kind, Madame.”</p> + +<p>The unwilling admiration shone once more in Madame’s +beady eyes as Myrtile turned and walked lightly +away.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity,” she sighed, “that the girl is such a +fool!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> more Christopher and Lady Mary braved the +night air on the terrace of the Villa Acacia. The latter +pointed across the gorge to the villa on the other side, +a shadowy-looking building, unlit, and without any sign +of habitation.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what Gerald does without his little play-fellow +in the afternoons,” she observed.</p> + +<p>Christopher frowned.</p> + +<p>“I know what he did this afternoon. He took Myrtile +over to Nice.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile?” Lady Mary repeated coldly. “Your +little protégée?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Christopher assented.</p> + +<p>“The young lady you purchased from a sordid stepfather +and an amorous suitor,” Lady Mary continued, +the irony of her tone merging almost into bitterness. +“You young men will end by getting into trouble with +the police or your own consciences.”</p> + +<p>“I am not in the least afraid of either contingency,” +Christopher assured her.</p> + +<p>“Then why do you look so disturbed every time the +girl’s name is mentioned?” Lady Mary asked him, +pointblank.</p> + +<p>They were passing one of the long, high windows. +Christopher paused for a moment to look inside. Gerald +and his father were playing chess,—Gerald slim, +handsome, obviously a little bored with the game; his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>father keenly interested by a somewhat audacious move +which had just been made.</p> + +<p>“If I do,” Christopher said, “as I tried to explain +to you before, it is not on my own account.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary laughed.</p> + +<p>“You can’t imagine that Gerald is likely to find her +dangerous!” she scoffed. “Why, he was head over +ears in love with that strange girl over at the Villa +Violette yesterday, and, besides, Gerald isn’t vicious—you +know that.”</p> + +<p>“Gerald is very weak sometimes,” Christopher said +bluntly. “He has a man’s conscience where men are +concerned, but with regard to women—well, he sees +things differently. He has been terribly spoilt, of +course, and in this particular instance the trouble is +that the child fancies herself in love with him.”</p> + +<p>“In love with Gerald! How ridiculous!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t quite appreciate her, if you don’t mind +my saying so,” Christopher declared, a little timidly. +“She is extraordinarily ignorant and she is also extraordinarily +innocent. All her life she has been +starved for kindness and beauty. I don’t think there +was ever a human being in the world who needed help +and counsel more than she does to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I remove her from temptation?” Mary enquired, +after a moment’s reflection. “My maid has +just broken it to me that she is going to stay here and +get married. Shall I take your protégée back to England +in her place?”</p> + +<p>“If only you would!” Christopher exclaimed eagerly. +“You needn’t keep her. My cousin is going to find a +place for her as nursery governess, but she isn’t quite +ready yet.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary considered the matter, leaning over the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>balcony, her head a little thrown back as though to enjoy +the perfume of the pines. Her profile was luminously +sweet against the dark background, but there +was rather a tired droop at the corners of her lips. +Her thoughts wandered for a moment from the subject +of discussion.</p> + +<p>“I wonder whether I am glad to go home,” she ruminated.</p> + +<p>“We shall miss you,” Christopher declared.</p> + +<p>She turned her head and looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Will you?”</p> + +<p>“Immensely,” he assured her. “I shall miss our +tennis more than anything. To tell you the truth,” he +went on, “except for the tennis and the rather amazing +golf, I don’t think Monte Carlo appeals to me very +much.”</p> + +<p>“You are no gambler,” she observed.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the faintest inclination towards it,” he +confessed. “I hate the things in life which I cannot +control.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that a little rash?” she ventured. “You +might have to hate your own affections.”</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment. She watched him curiously.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I am the sort of person,” he said, +“who would be likely to be led very far by his affections +alone.—What about the child, Mary?”</p> + +<p>“I will take her if you wish it,” she decided. “She +must be at the station at eight o’clock. You know that +we have to make an early start. There will be nothing +for her to do. Janet has packed and will arrange all +my things for the journey.”</p> + +<p>Christopher drew a long breath of relief.</p> + +<p>“You are a dear!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>“You can’t imagine what a weight this is off my +mind.”</p> + +<p>“I am doing it for your sake,” Lady Mary told him. +“I do not like the child. I disapprove most strongly +of the whole situation. However, I will do what I have +promised. We are going straight to Hinterleys. She +can remain there until your cousin is ready for her.”</p> + +<p>Gerald came strolling out to them, pausing on the +way to light a cigarette. The game of chess was over +and his father was buried in the <i>Times</i>, which had just +been brought in.</p> + +<p>“What are you two conspiring about?” he enquired.</p> + +<p>“I have been saying good-by to your sister,” Christopher +replied.</p> + +<p>Gerald passed his arm around her affectionately.</p> + +<p>“We shall miss you, dear,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I think I am really rather sorry to go,” Mary confessed. +“Father is getting quite restless, though. He +never cares to stay in one place too long.”</p> + +<p>Gerald glanced at his watch.</p> + +<p>“I must be off,” he announced. “I’ve a few of my +frivolous friends coming in to supper after the Opera. +Are you coming, Christopher?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so, if you don’t mind, Gerald,” was +the apologetic reply. “I dance very badly, and none +of those little lady friends of yours seems to understand +my French. I shall stay and talk to your father for +half an hour and then walk down.”</p> + +<p>For some unaccountable reason, Gerald felt relieved. +He took his leave of his father and sister, started up his +car, and drove through the scented darkness back to the +hotel. All the time he was conscious of a little quiver +of excitement for which he could not account. The +Villa Violette, at which he gazed as he turned out of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>avenue, was dark and empty. He thought of Pauline +and sighed. The ghost in the empty seat by his side +faded away. He was for a single moment a man, angry +with himself, bitterly regretful.</p> + +<p>“I was a cad to kiss her like that,” he muttered. +“All the same, a child has no right to such lips.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was met in the hall of the hotel by Charles, the +<i>maître d’hôtel</i> to whom he had left the arrangements for +his supper party.</p> + +<p>“If milord will be so kind as to ascend with me,” the +latter suggested, “I can show him the preparations I +have made.”</p> + +<p>Gerald nodded and ascended to the first floor. The +man threw open the door of a large apartment with +smoothly polished floor. A round table, arranged for +sixteen, stood in the middle of the room under a glittering +chandelier. A heavily laden sideboard stood in a +recess. At the farther end, on a slightly raised dais, +three musicians were seated, looking through their +music.</p> + +<p>“This is the most convenient suite for milord,” +Charles explained, “because the door at the left-hand +there communicates with milord’s own suite of apartments, +where his friends, if they like, can leave their +hats and coats. I shall serve the supper myself. +Everything will be as commanded. The supper table +can be moved into a corner of the room at any time desired,—as +soon, in fact, as milord cares to start dancing. +Monsieur Léon presents his compliments, and, although +he has no desire to impose anything in the way +of restrictions, he begs that the party may finish at +half-past three, in order to avoid complaints.”</p> + +<p>Gerald nodded and dismissed the man. He stood for +a moment in the centre of the waxed floor, his hands behind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>him and a freshly lit cigarette between his lips. +The sight of these preparations for the night’s festivities +had left him curiously unmoved. He could picture +the whole affair,—a little cosmopolitan crowd of giggling, +shrieking girls, half French, half Russian, with a +dash, here and there, of the Egyptian and the Italian. +It was a surge of femininity with which the room would +presently be assailed, and he was conscious of a sudden +sense of revulsion. Nadine, with her pale cheeks, her +eyes half green, half yellow, like the eyes of a cat, her +alluring smile. Somehow or other she would find her +way to his side, she would whisper to him in corners, +brazenly ignoring the fact that she was the guest of the +American whose yacht was moored in the harbour, but +who had gone to Paris for a week. Then there were +Chlotilde and Phrynette, Parisians to the rosy tips of +their fingers, more blatant still in their desires, frank +and unashamed of the silken net they trolled. It was, +after all, a dull game to play. The finesse of refusal +had never seemed so flat, the ignominy of consent so repulsive. +He moved impatiently to the window and stood +looking across the strip of garden to the bay. The +violinist behind was playing something very softly, nothing +to do with the dance, a little fragment of music +made for himself. Gerald leaned towards the cool darkness. +The music helped him to a momentary escape. +He thought of Pauline, cold as the snows, proud and +indifferent, yet with the charm of hidden things in her +clear eyes and delicate aloofness. Her indifference had +hurt—how much he realised when he thought of the +coming evening. And then, like a flash, his mood +changed. There was the other type, as beautiful in its +way, as serene, as wonderful in its strange, virginal passion, +the lips that had clung to his with the frank offer +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>of supreme, unselfish love.—Christopher was right. +There was no pleasure amongst the herds.</p> + +<p>He turned away, and, crossing the room, opened the +door leading into his own suite. A wondrous—an +amazing—vision confronted him. For a moment he +was aghast. Myrtile, transformed as though by the +wand of an artist, her gown, simple and unadorned, retentive +of all the grace of her girlhood, yet exquisitely +suggestive of the woman to come,—Myrtile, her hair +drooped low on either side of her oval face, a robed lily, +unspoilt and untarnished by the cunning fingers which +had produced a veritable triumph. Her bosom was rising +and falling quickly, her lips were parted. Then she +began to laugh softly. Everything was right with the +world. Gerald’s look of transfixed admiration told her +all that she needed to know.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX</h3> +</div> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Will</span> I do?” Myrtile asked demurely.</p> + +<p>“You are wonderful!” Gerald exclaimed. “But—what +does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“I have come to your party,” Myrtile announced, +“and even Monsieur Christopher shall not send me +away. I went to Madame Lénore. She dressed me +and she had my hair arranged. It was so droll. When +I looked in the glass I scarcely knew myself. You are +pleased?”</p> + +<p>“I am more than pleased,” Gerald answered, taking +her hand. “But about this party. I am not +sure——”</p> + +<p>“You don’t want me?” she whispered.</p> + +<p>He could no longer resist the invitation of her lips. +After a moment, however, she sprang away. The violinist +in the room beyond had commenced a waltz. She +dragged Gerald through the open door and gave a little +cry of delight when she saw the room.</p> + +<p>“Dance with me,” she begged, “just you and I, all +alone. Dance with me, Gerald!”</p> + +<p>They moved off to the music. The violinist smiled +with pleasure. The other instruments took up the +strain. Myrtile was as light as a feather in her partner’s +arms, her feet flashed or lingered upon the floor +like flecks of sunlight upon a wave-stirred sea. She +closed her eyes, half fainting with the joy of the music, +the smooth floor, Gerald’s arms. Presently he stopped. +He was unaccountably out of breath. He took one of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>the gold-foiled bottles from the sideboard, opened it and +filled two glasses with the foaming wine. Myrtile’s eyes +shone like stars as she drank.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am happy!” she murmured. “This is wonderful! +Promise, Gerald, that you will never send me +away. Promise?”</p> + +<p>There was a shriek of voices as the room was invaded. +Nadine came through the door which led from his own +suite.</p> + +<p>“Gerald,” she cried, “there is a cloak already upon +your bed! I am on fire with jealousy. Who is your +early guest?—Ah! A thousand pardons!”</p> + +<p>Gerald’s movement had disclosed Myrtile. Nadine, +daringly, almost shamelessly dressed, raised her bare +arms.</p> + +<p>“Heaven!” she exclaimed. “Gerald has robbed a +convent!”</p> + +<p>Some men followed, accompanied by a little crowd of +girls. Every one was curious about Myrtile. She +shook hands shyly with those whom Gerald presented to +her. When they asked for her name, however, he shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle is our guest for this evening,” he announced. +“She is not, alas! of our world. Let us call +her Mademoiselle X.”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle the Spirit, rather!” a Frenchman exclaimed. +“I think that you have dragged her down +from the skies. Present me, Gerald, or I shall be your +enemy for life.”</p> + +<p>“The Marquis Chantelaine,” Gerald murmured, +“Mademoiselle X. The Marquis is a shameless fellow, +Myrtile, and you must not believe a word he says.”</p> + +<p>“I am shameless or not according to my surroundings,” +the Frenchman declared. “No one could look +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>into the eyes of Mademoiselle and speak other than the +truth.”</p> + +<p>Chlotilde pouted.</p> + +<p>“Is no one going to say nice things to us others?” +she complained. “Gerald, you ought to have warned +us. I would have worn my new gown. It is exactly +the colour of the sky. Even my maid declared that I, +too, slipped down from heaven.”</p> + +<p>There was a little chorus of laughter. Cocktails +were brought in and cigarettes lit. Every one gathered +around and talked to Myrtile. She answered them naturally +enough, but every now and then with embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle X may be asked no questions,” Gerald +insisted. “Where she comes from I shall not tell any +of you. Whither she goes after to-night, you will none +of you know.”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle is of the <i>haut monde</i>, perhaps?” +Nadine whispered maliciously, under her breath.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle belongs to a world we are none of us +privileged to enter,” Gerald answered. “It is the one +favour I ask, as your host. Please accept my guest as +a butterfly, born this evening, passing away to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, là, là!” Chlotilde exclaimed. “We are all like +that. Give me another cocktail, Charles. I have not +had a drink all the evening, and my sylph dance was +twice encored.”</p> + +<p>They made their way presently to the supper table. +Myrtile sat at Gerald’s right hand, and next her, on the +other side, was the Marquis de Chantelaine. Any form +of tête-à-tête conversation, however, was impossible +from the first. They all seemed to be talking together +at the top of their voices in an almost incomprehensible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>argot, a jumble of personal quips and sallies. Myrtile +listened sympathetically but understood little. Occasionally +she laughed when the others laughed, but as a +matter of fact she needed nothing to complete her happiness. +She was next to Gerald, who whispered every +now and then little words of encouragement in her ear. +The Marquis, too, murmured occasional compliments, +but he was man of the world enough partially to understand +the situation, and he restrained his natural instincts +towards unbridled gallantry. Presently Chlotilde +jumped up and danced. Phrynette followed suit +and executed a wonderful <i>pas seul</i>. There was a good +deal of boisterous applause. Myrtile felt the colour +burning in her cheeks. She glanced towards Gerald. +He was laughing, so it must be all right. Nevertheless, +she was relieved when at last Phrynette sat down.</p> + +<p>“I will show you,” Nadine suggested, “how they +dance in Algiers.”</p> + +<p>There was a little chorus of applause. Gerald alone +for a moment looked doubtful. He glanced towards +Myrtile at his side.</p> + +<p>“Don’t overdo it, Nadine,” he begged.</p> + +<p>Nadine laughed subtly.</p> + +<p>“Is it for your ingénue you fear, or yourself?” she +asked. “Very well, I will give you both something to +think about.”</p> + +<p>She danced at first with all the quivering grace of +restrained but passionate movements. Myrtile watched +her with fascinated eyes. Then she suddenly broke +loose. Myrtile looked down at her plate and gripped +Gerald’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Remember I warned you, dear,” he whispered. +“Don’t watch.”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle would perhaps care for a little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>stroll upon the balcony?” the Marquis whispered in her +ear.</p> + +<p>Myrtile shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she murmured, “I do not wish to leave +Gerald. As for the dancing, it is foolish of me but I +have never seen anything like it. It never seemed to me +possible that women could do such things. That is because +I have not lived in the world. I shall progress.”</p> + +<p>The dance came to an end amidst uproarious applause. +Nadine, dishevelled and breathless, pirouetted +towards the door leading to Gerald’s suite.</p> + +<p>“I shall go into your bedroom and make myself +tidy,” she called out. “You can come and fetch me +when you want me,” she added, looking over her shoulder +at her host.</p> + +<p>The corks began to fly faster still. Presently, couples +stood up and danced. Then, indeed, happiness began +for Myrtile. She danced with Gerald again and +again, danced to music which was indeed of the best, for +Gerald was somewhat of an epicure in such matters, +until she forgot the loud voices, the haze of cigarette +smoke, the slightly unsteady condition of one or two of +the guests. To her, so long as it was Gerald’s arm +which controlled her, it was all beautiful. By degrees +she seemed to slip into her place, however incongruous +it might be, in the little company. The first impulse of +resentment against her presence, shown most clearly by +Nadine after her prolonged but useless wait before Gerald’s +looking-glass, soon passed away. She was accepted +as one of the kaleidoscopic pictures of Monte +Carlo flirtations. She had come, and there was an end +of it. There were other hosts besides Gerald, other +Englishmen crowding all the time into the place. The +very singleness of her devotion made her to some extent +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>a rival to be accepted philosophically. She at least +made not the slightest response to the advances which +were offered her freely enough by the other men of the +party.</p> + +<p>It seemed incredible that four o’clock had arrived +when Louis presented himself with many apologies. +There was a ball that night at the Carlton, however, so +every one was resigned. They invaded Gerald’s rooms +for their coats and wraps. Myrtile remained talking +with the Marquis, with whom she had been dancing. +Her body was still swaying a little to the rhythm of the +music.</p> + +<p>“So this is your first night, Mademoiselle?” her +companion said softly. “I shall hope that we may +meet many more times.”</p> + +<p>“If you are a friend of Gerald’s, I hope that we +may,” Myrtile replied.</p> + +<p>“You have enjoyed yourself, on the whole?” he +asked, looking at her curiously.</p> + +<p>Her ears were straining for Gerald’s voice. She +could hear all the time the shrill laughter of Nadine and +her friends.</p> + +<p>“I have enjoyed the dancing,” she said.</p> + +<p>“But not the dancing of Mademoiselle Nadine?”</p> + +<p>Her cheeks were suddenly hot. There was a look of +trouble in her eyes which he had noticed before and +wondered at.</p> + +<p>“No, I did not like that,” she acknowledged. “I +cannot believe that Gerald liked it, really. It was not +beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“She is very famous,” the Marquis remarked.</p> + +<p>“It was not beautiful,” Myrtile repeated. “It +frightened me a little.”</p> + +<p>The Frenchman, a little intrigued, smiled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>“I begin to believe,” he said, “that you are really as +young as you look.”</p> + +<p>“I am eighteen,” she told him.</p> + +<p>“For that moment I was not thinking of your actual +years,” he explained. “How long have you known +Lord Dombey?”</p> + +<p>“Gerald?” she queried. “Only a very short time. +I have never danced with him before to-day.”</p> + +<p>“It seems easy to believe,” he said, “that you slipped +down from the skies, only nowadays Heaven does not +part with its children so easily. Tell me, where did you +come from, really?”</p> + +<p>“A little farm on the other side of the mountains,” +she said. “Gerald and Monsieur Christopher brought +me here. Monsieur Christopher wants me to go to +England, but I hope that Gerald will not let me go.”</p> + +<p>“But what shall you do if you stay here?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Gerald will take care of me,” she answered. “I +shall be very happy if he lets me stay.”</p> + +<p>He looked at her thoughtfully. He was inclined to +be a disbeliever, the accepted pose towards women at his +age, but a little flicker of genuine feeling disturbed for a +moment his placid and cultivated cynicism.</p> + +<p>“I am not at all sure,” he said, “if you are what +you seem to be, that it would not be better if you went +to England.”</p> + +<p>They all came trooping out. Myrtile got up to fetch +her own cloak, but Gerald detained her. She stood by +his side, bidding good night to his guests with him. +The Marquis frowned slightly as he made his adieux. +The look in his eyes haunted her for a moment as he +turned away. Then she was conscious of a curious +sense of disturbance. Throughout the dancing she had +been soothed into a state of ecstatic happiness. Suddenly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>there was a change. She was alone with Gerald +and he was looking at her strangely. Two of the musicians +were packing up their music. Once more the violinist +was playing softly, as though to himself.</p> + +<p>“You have been happy, Myrtile?” Gerald asked, and +his voice seemed to come from a long way off.</p> + +<p>“Wonderfully,” she answered. “I—there is my +cloak.”</p> + +<p>She moved towards the open door leading into Gerald’s +suite. She seemed suddenly torn by a strange +medley of sensations and memories. She saw Nadine +pass through it, dishevelled and indecent, with that +backward glance at Gerald which, even to her ignorance, +seemed ugly. She heard the voices of all of them laughing +stridently. Little half-understood sentences puzzled +her. She passed into the sitting room. Gerald +followed, closing the door. The sound of the music +came more quietly. Myrtile felt suddenly faint.</p> + +<p>“You are tired!” Gerald exclaimed, bending anxiously +over her.</p> + +<p>She put her arms around his neck like a child.</p> + +<p>“Gerald,” she whispered, “take care of me. I am +afraid. Be good to me, Gerald.”</p> + +<p>Their lips met, but there was something absent from +the warm joy of that first kiss. Side by side with her +happiness came the feeling of discordant music all +around her. Rank perfumes seemed to hang in the air. +A ribbon from one of Nadine’s discarded garments lay +upon the sofa. Yet when Gerald leaned towards her +and his eyes sought for hers, a strange content seemed +to creep like a flood over all these other things.</p> + +<p>The door of the sitting room was suddenly opened +and closed. Christopher stood there, a little breathless, +as though he had run up the stairs, pale, and with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>a look in his eyes from which both Gerald and Myrtile +quailed,—Gerald with fuller understanding. His arms +dropped. He was nearer fear than ever before in his +life. Christopher spoke with marvellous calmness.</p> + +<p>“Gerald,” he said, “were you thinking of breaking +your trust?”</p> + +<p>“Yes!” Gerald answered hoarsely. “Drop this +Don Quixote business, Christopher. I’m sick of it.”</p> + +<p>Christopher came a step nearer.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile is coming back to her lodgings with +me,” he announced. “She is going to England to-morrow +morning. Your sister has promised to take +her.”</p> + +<p>“But it is impossible!” Myrtile cried passionately.</p> + +<p>“It is arranged,” Christopher declared. “I went to +your rooms to-night, Myrtile, to tell you. I received +Annette’s lying message. I was told that you were in +bed and asleep. I left a note. Then, for the first time +since I have been here, I went to the Club and stayed +late. I heard your guests downstairs speak of your +good fortune, Gerald.”</p> + +<p>Gerald laid his hand upon Myrtile’s wrist.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “what are you going to do about +it?”</p> + +<p>“I am going to take Myrtile home,” Christopher insisted.</p> + +<p>“I refuse to let her go,” Gerald declared.</p> + +<p>Christopher looked for a moment away at Myrtile. +She clung to Gerald like a frightened child.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” Christopher went on, “you and I have +been friends all our lives, Gerald. We know one another +pretty well. You know of me that I am a man +of my word. I know of you that, though you are selfish +and worship pleasure, you are white enough when the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>hour strikes. The hour has struck, Gerald. Let me +take Myrtile home.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile shall choose,” Gerald proposed.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile shall do nothing of the sort,” was the +prompt reply. “You might as well ask her to choose +the right path through a strange city. Gerald, old +chap, don’t take this hardly. I am not here to sling +abuse at you. And Myrtile—just doesn’t understand. +Thank God I was in time!—Myrtile, take your cloak.”</p> + +<p>She clung to Gerald’s arm, looking anxiously into his +face. Something else discordant had come into the +room, something unbeautiful, something to be feared. +She looked from one to the other of the two men. Gerald’s +fist was clenched. For all his calm, there was a +subtle threat in Christopher’s attitude.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to quarrel,” Christopher went on. +“Don’t let it come to that, Gerald, but you see it is +inevitable that Myrtile should leave with me to-night. +I shall not go without her. You know what that +means.”</p> + +<p>“I am to remember, I suppose,” Gerald said thickly, +“that you were the Varsity boxing champion?”</p> + +<p>“Please don’t,” Christopher begged. “Myrtile must +come. I can’t always be in the way. To-night I am. +To-night, at any rate, you have a reprieve.—Myrtile!”</p> + +<p>She stooped for her cloak. Christopher arranged it +around her shoulders. His fingers shivered at the touch +of the filmy laciness, as though he loathed it.</p> + +<p>“You are ready, Myrtile?” he asked.</p> + +<p>She looked once more at Gerald. He seemed so far +away. And was it her fancy, or was there something in +his face which she had seen in the faces of those others?—He +lit a cigarette almost ostentatiously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>“You had better go, Myrtile,” he said. “Christopher +has the whip hand of us. We can’t have a row +here.”</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Gerald,” she faltered. “It isn’t my +fault.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” Gerald answered. “We are all a +little overstrung, I think. Good-by, little one!”</p> + +<p>He kissed her almost carelessly and nodded to Christopher. +The two left the room. The music had ceased.</p> + +<p>They walked through the empty streets in silence. +When they arrived within a few yards of Myrtile’s +lodgings, Christopher slackened his pace. Myrtile was +crying quietly.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” he begged, “please listen to me.”</p> + +<p>“I am listening,” she told him drearily.</p> + +<p>“This morning at eight o’clock I shall be here to take +you to the station. Please leave behind the clothes you +are wearing, and I will return them to Madame Lénore. +You will go to London, and Lady Mary will take care +of you. Lady Mary is Gerald’s sister. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t think of me as an executioner,” Christopher +went on, with a note of unusual feeling in his +tone. “Love is a very wonderful thing, Myrtile, but it +is also a very dangerous paradise. If you care for +Gerald, and he cares for you, believe me, some day, you +will belong to one another and you will be happy, but +the love which brings happiness is not of a moment’s +growth. It is not a matter of feeling only. To-day +you love Gerald with your whole soul. Gerald has simply +a little affection for you. You are a whim to him, +a child whose softness and prettiness attracts him. +The kingdom of love is a wonderful place, but no two +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>people who are in the position of you and Gerald can +enter it by the lower gates. If you are faithful, remember +this. A year or two of life will bring womanhood +to you, and you will understand just what was lacking +to-night, just what, in a corner of your heart, Myrtile, +I believe that you guessed was lacking. That something +would have poisoned even your wonderful happiness. +You must wait, dear. Nothing in the world will +keep you and Gerald apart if your love for one another +becomes the love that endures.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile crept away without a word. For an hour +Christopher waited, unseen, at the darkened corner of +the street. He waited until he saw the light go out in +Myrtile’s room. Then he went back to the hotel, +changed his clothes and rested for a couple of hours. +When he returned to her room, she was waiting for him, +dressed in her little blue serge suit, pale, mutely pathetic. +Christopher carried her small bag and they +made their way to the station.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” he said, as they stood together, watching +the train come round the bay, “this morning I think +that you are hating me. You think me very cruel. Try +and not judge me for a year.”</p> + +<p>“I think that you mean well,” she sighed, “but you +do not understand.”</p> + +<p>Christopher put money into her purse and took her +up to where Lady Mary was standing with her little +array of dependents. She spoke a few kindly words to +Myrtile, who answered her politely but without any +trace of feeling in her tone. Myrtile sat down on one +of the trunks and looked steadily across at the sleeping +white-fronted hotel. Christopher and Lady Mary +walked for a moment apart.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why I am doing this thing for you,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>Mary said. “If you want to know the truth, I dislike +the young woman intensely.”</p> + +<p>“If you can’t feel that you are doing it for my sake,” +Christopher replied, “think that you are doing it for +Gerald’s.”</p> + +<p>Lady Mary stared at him for a moment, and Christopher +fancied that he could read in her somewhat +haughty look some trace of that patrician superstition +which claimed for its people the bodies and souls of +their satellites.—The train thundered in.</p> + +<p>“You will come and see me in London?” she asked, a +little softened.</p> + +<p>“Directly I return,” he promised. “I shan’t forget +this, Mary,” he added, a little awkwardly. “You’ve +been a brick.”</p> + +<p>She smiled, curiously gratified at his hesitating +words. Christopher leaned towards Myrtile.</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Myrtile,” he said.</p> + +<p>She removed her eyes from the window for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Christopher,” she answered—and looked +back again at the white building, with its irregular front +and close-drawn curtains. Behind one of them Gerald +was sleeping. With a cloud of black smoke and a succession +of hoarse, sobbing pants, the long train steamed +slowly out of the station.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> + +<p class="ph2">BOOK TWO</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> +<h2 class="nobreak">BOOK TWO</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span> had been lunching at the Hyde Park Hotel +and was on his way to pay a call in Curzon Street. +Hence his progress through the sun-baked and dusty +park at three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon in August. +Christopher, who had been his fellow guest, +caught him up just as he had reached the shelter of the +trees. The two young men were apparently still on the +same friendly terms. No one but themselves realised +the slight cloud which had never wholly passed away +from between them since the night in Gerald’s sitting +room at the Hôtel de Paris, eighteen months ago.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t get near you at lunch,” Christopher remarked. +“What a squash!”</p> + +<p>“Hideous!” Gerald agreed.</p> + +<p>“Every one all right at Hinterleys?” Christopher +enquired.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t heard for over a week. Aren’t they rather +expecting you down there?”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to-morrow. Can’t take you, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I can’t stand Hinterleys when there’s nothing to +do,” he confided. “I shall be there on the 31st. all +right.”</p> + +<p>“You’re not going to stay in town till then?”</p> + +<p>“I’m off to Bourne End this afternoon,” was the unenthusiastic +reply. “I shall probably stay there a day +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>or two. I ought to have gone up to Scotland this week, +but I have put it off until the end of September. The +Governor forgives a good deal, but he wouldn’t forgive +me if I weren’t at Hinterleys for the 1st.”</p> + +<p>Christopher took his friend’s arm lightly. He had +made several attempts to break through the slight restraint +that existed between them, and Gerald’s appearance +these days rather troubled him. He was thinner, +his eyes were restless, his manner a little nervous. He +was still fit enough, for he had had a great season at +polo, and had played cricket half a dozen times for his +county with almost startling success. Yet he had not +the appearance of being the spoilt child of fortune that +he certainly was.</p> + +<p>“I wonder you don’t get fed up with that Bourne +End crowd,” Christopher remarked.</p> + +<p>“I very nearly am,” Gerald confessed. “They were +much more amusing in the old days, before they took up +marriage as a hobby. Now the most flagrant little +hussy begins to talk about her people in the country +and St. George’s, Hanover Square, if you hold her fingers. +It’s all the fault of these callow youths—Christopher—Great +Heavens!”</p> + +<p>They had passed the Achilles Statue and were making +towards Stanhope Gate. The crowd here seemed more +spiritless than ever. There was a sprinkling of ladies’ +maids, sitting demurely alone, waiting patiently for the +coming of romance; a few young men of doubtful types, +a certain number of loafers pure and simple, and a few +reasonable people, driven out by the craving for air +which had some of the qualities of freshness. In chairs +a little way back and apart from the others, two women, +dressed in plain black, were seated. One was elderly, +the other young. Both were weary, both sat there with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>the air of wishing to avoid observation. To Christopher +they were entirely unfamiliar. His whole attention +was absorbed by Gerald’s strange demeanour. +Gerald’s long fingers had gripped his arm almost painfully. +For the first time for many months, there was +real feeling in his face.</p> + +<p>“It’s Pauline!” he exclaimed. “Wait for me, +Chris.”</p> + +<p>Without hesitation, Gerald turned and threaded his +way among the chairs. The two women watched his +approach, the older one with stolid indifference, Pauline +apparently with some faint resentment. Gerald, however, +in these last few seconds had become a very determined +person. He stood before them with his hat in his +hand. His bow was lower than is customary amongst +English people. His manner could scarcely have been +more respectful if he had been paying his homage at +Buckingham Palace.</p> + +<p>“May I be permitted to recall myself to the recollection +of Madame de Ponière?” he begged.</p> + +<p>The woman looked at him with unrecognising eyes. +The last eighteen months had dealt hardly with her. +The flesh had sagged a little from her cheek bones, her +mouth had become bitter, her throat was thin, her eyes +cold and glassy.</p> + +<p>“You do not succeed in doing so, monsieur,” she said +coldly.</p> + +<p>Pauline intervened. There was some faint note of +courtesy in her manner, nothing whatever of kindliness.</p> + +<p>“This young gentleman,” she explained to her aunt,—“Lord +Dombey, I believe his name is—was kind +enough to be of assistance to us at Monte Carlo, on +the night when Zubin met with his unfortunate accident.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>Madame de Ponière inclined her head.</p> + +<p>“I trust that we tendered our thanks on that occasion,” +she observed icily.</p> + +<p>Gerald held his ground. Pauline was paler than +ever, and thin, but perhaps he fancied that there was a +shade of encouragement in those soft, weary eyes.</p> + +<p>“Madame,” he said, “there was some slight previous +acquaintance between your niece and myself, some trifling +service I had been able to render which gave me the +right to perform this further one. It gives me great +pleasure to see you again in my own country.”</p> + +<p>The older woman laughed hardly.</p> + +<p>“It is difficult to believe,” she scoffed, “that the sight +of us could give pleasure to any one; apart from which +fact,” she added rapidly, “it is not our wish to make or +renew acquaintances whilst we are here.”</p> + +<p>“Madame,” Gerald replied, “that was your attitude +in Monte Carlo, an attitude which I may say occasioned +me the deepest regret. I venture to hope that I may be +able to induce you to modify it.”</p> + +<p>“And why should I?” she asked, almost insolently.</p> + +<p>“Because I have the sincerest and most profound admiration +for mademoiselle,” Gerald declared stoutly, +“and because, in my own country, there is the possibility +that I may be of service to you.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière opened a plain pair of lorgnettes +and looked for a moment at Gerald.</p> + +<p>“For an Englishman,” she remarked coolly, “you +seem to have some manners. Who is this, Pauline?”</p> + +<p>There was the faintest possible indication of a smile +on Pauline’s lips.</p> + +<p>“His name is Lord Dombey,” she answered demurely. +“He is the son of the Earl of Hinterleys.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me!” Madame de Ponière murmured.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>“The Earl of Hinterleys,” Pauline continued, “is +one of the lesser English noblemen.”</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding his anxiety, Gerald’s sense of humour +was touched. If only his father could have been +standing by his side to assist in the conversation with +these two shabbily dressed ladies!</p> + +<p>“Our titles are, at any rate, not unduly modern,” he +pleaded deprecatingly. “Besides, is this of any real +consequence?”</p> + +<p>“What precisely do you want of us?” the older lady +asked, after a slight hesitation.</p> + +<p>“The privilege of renewing my acquaintance with +you both,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>“You have done so,” Madame de Ponière reminded +him.</p> + +<p>“With permission to pay my respects at your London +residence,” he urged.</p> + +<p>“We do not receive in London,” was the curt reply.</p> + +<p>“I trust,” Gerald persisted, “that you will make an +exception in my favour.”</p> + +<p>Pauline suddenly intervened. There was a shade of +hauteur in her manner, but some frankness.</p> + +<p>“My dear aunt,” she said, “there are certain things +which it is impossible to conceal. My aunt and I,” she +went on, addressing Gerald, “are living in some impossible +rooms in an impossible hotel in South Kensington. +I see no reason, however, why we should not receive you +there, if you are in earnest in your desire to call. We +are without acquaintances in this city.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière closed her lorgnettes with a little +snap.</p> + +<p>“We are staying at Number 28, Erriston Gardens, +South Kensington,” she said. “I believe they call the +place the Erriston Gardens Hotel.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>“If you will permit me,” Gerald suggested, “I will +bring my sister to call upon you when she is in town. +In the meantime, may I venture upon a daring suggestion? +You are without acquaintances in town; so, for +these few days, am I. Will you do me the great honour +of dining at Ranelagh to-night with me? We shall escape +this insufferable heat and be able to listen to music +out of doors.”</p> + +<p>“I regret that it is impossible, sir,” Madame de +Ponière replied.</p> + +<p>Gerald was naturally quick-witted. There were many +little things he had already noted.</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle,” he said, turning to Pauline, “I beg +you to intercede with your aunt. I do not invite you to +one of the established restaurants. The great charm +of Ranelagh is its informality. The people who have +been playing tennis and golf stay on to dine, with some +trifling change in their attire. I myself should have to +ask you to excuse my remaining in morning dress. It is +a convention of the place.”</p> + +<p>“Milord Dombey doubts our wardrobe,” Pauline remarked, +with a faint smile. “No,” she went on hastily, +“please do not think we are offended. I think your discretion +is admirable. And, aunt, I beg of you, let us +accept Lord Dombey’s invitation. Think how much we +are suffering from the heat. Think of our stuffy room, +our unspeakable dinner! In short, I insist.”</p> + +<p>“If you will allow me, I will call for you at a quarter +to eight,” Gerald proposed, turning to Madame de +Ponière.</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière hesitated for another moment. +Perhaps it was something in the almost boyish quality +of Gerald’s eagerness which decided her. This Englishman +was at any rate no <i>boulevardier</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>“We will await you at that hour,” she replied. “I +trust,” she added, after a moment’s pause, “that you +will not consider my hesitation in any way discourteous. +There are reasons which make it difficult for my niece +and myself to accept hospitality.”</p> + +<p>Gerald bowed low, and, acting on a momentary impulse, +raised Madame’s fingers to his lips. She yielded +them naturally enough, but with a little glance around, +almost of fear. Mademoiselle also extended her finger +tips. He took his leave and was received by Christopher, +who was waiting for him, with a gaze almost of +astonishment. Gerald was holding himself differently, +his eyes were filled with a lustre which they had lacked +for months, he was smiling again in his old manner.</p> + +<p>“My dear fellow,” Christopher exclaimed, “what on +earth has happened?”</p> + +<p>“That old devil has recognised my existence at last,” +Gerald declared. “I had almost to force myself upon +her. Chris, they’re dining with me to-night!”</p> + +<p>“Before you say another word,” Christopher enjoined, +“I want you to look at the man on that seat by +the side of the tree. Look at him carefully, please.”</p> + +<p>The two young men slackened their pace. The person +whom Christopher had indicated was a man of medium +height, dressed, notwithstanding the heat of the +day, in sombre black clothes, and wearing a black bowler +hat. He was dark, and he was, or affected to be, reading +a book. His complexion was sallow and he wore a +slight black moustache. His hair was unusually long +and even covered a portion of his ears.</p> + +<p>“Well, I see him,” Gerald admitted. “Not much to +look at. Looks like one of the chaps who go in for this +tub-thumping up at the far end.”</p> + +<p>“He came from that way,” Christopher said, “but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>the reason I am pointing him out to you is because he +appeared to recognise your two friends at the same instant +that you did. He was walking down between that +last row of chairs. Directly he saw them, however, he +stood quite still for a moment. He seemed almost as +knocked over as you were. Then he slunk back into +that chair and he has been watching them ever since.”</p> + +<p>Gerald attached no undue importance to the affair.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell them about it this evening, if I can remember,” +he promised.—“Chris, did you ever know such +luck! She is more wonderful than ever. No wonder I +could never get the feeling of her out of my blood, the +thought of her from my brain! Her eyes—Chris, did +you ever see such eyes in your life!”</p> + +<p>“Kind of hazel, aren’t they?” Christopher hazarded.</p> + +<p>“You ass!” Gerald declared contemptuously. +“They’re brown—the most glorious shade of brown I +ever saw. I’m going to call for them in South Kensington +at a quarter to eight, Chris. We’re going to dine +at Ranelagh.”</p> + +<p>“So you told me,” Christopher observed, smiling. +“What about Bourne End?”</p> + +<p>Gerald’s radiant happiness was not for a moment +disturbed. He took Christopher’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Bourne End,” he confided, “has, allegorically +speaking, vanished into the blue horizon. Chris, I know +now what has been the matter with me all these months. +I knew it directly I saw her sitting there, tired and miserable, +under the trees. I came up against the real +thing and never knew it. I am in love with Pauline!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pauline</span> leaned back in her chair with a little murmur +of content. Through the drooping branches of the +great plane tree was a fascinating little vista of scarlet-clad +orchestra, of the terrace with its curving rows of +lights, the little groups of people sitting about, the +waiters in their quaint liveries. And beyond, the smooth +lawn, the picturesque front of the house; up above, the +deep blue sky, pierced here and there with an early star. +Even the little murmur of conversation seemed to blend +with the strains of the music. A breeze rippled in the +tree tops. After the heat of London, it was a wonderful +respite.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind,” she murmured to Gerald, “to +bring us here.”</p> + +<p>“I was very fortunate to meet you,” he declared. +“Don’t you think, after all the discouragement I have +received, I was very brave to come and beard your +aunt?”</p> + +<p>“Not so very,” she answered. “We were two defenceless +women, very sad and weary with life.”</p> + +<p>“I wish,” Gerald said deliberately, “that you would +tell me more about yourselves.”</p> + +<p>Pauline glanced across at her aunt, who was leaning +back in her chair, also with the appearance of deep content, +her eyes closed, her air of isolation complete.</p> + +<p>“My aunt does not approve of such questions,” she +said quietly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>“We speak in English,” Gerald reminded her, “and +your aunt does not understand.”</p> + +<p>“My aunt understands English better than you +would believe,” Pauline replied. “There is the fact, +also, that I have confidence in her. I believe that she +knows what is best.”</p> + +<p>“The best thing for you,” Gerald said firmly, “is to +believe in me.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a slight smile. Her face, +however, remained unsoftened.</p> + +<p>“Really? And why should I believe in you? And +what is there to believe?”</p> + +<p>“That I am deeply interested,” Gerald replied +promptly, “in everything that concerns you; that I +wish to be your friend; that I wish——”</p> + +<p>She stopped him with a little gesture instinctively +mandatory.</p> + +<p>“Neither my aunt nor I,” she interrupted, “are in a +position to accept more than the simplest acts of good +will from any one. I have tried to make that clear to +you.”</p> + +<p>“You have,” Gerald admitted, “but before I accept +your decision finally, I shall expect some further explanation.”</p> + +<p>“We do not belong to your world,” Pauline said. +“We are what you call, I think, adventuresses.”</p> + +<p>“Of a unique type, then,” Gerald declared, smiling. +“It is not the usual action of such people, having met +with a great loss, as you did at Monte Carlo, to sell +their jewellery to pay their bills, and leave without owing +a penny.”</p> + +<p>“You are well informed,” Pauline remarked coldly.</p> + +<p>“I saw your pearl necklace in Desfordes’, the jeweller’s.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>“I cannot believe that Desfordes——” Pauline began, +in some agitation.</p> + +<p>“The man told me nothing,” Gerald interrupted. “I +recognised the necklace and I bought it.”</p> + +<p>“You bought my necklace?” she repeated incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Hoping,” Gerald ventured, “that some day it +would be my privilege to return it to you.”</p> + +<p>She was distinctly taken aback.</p> + +<p>“You are apparently a rich young man, Lord Dombey, +as well as an impertinent one,” she said. “Are you +often subject to these whims?”</p> + +<p>“I am well off,” Gerald replied, “that is to say that +I have an income apart from my allowance. For the +rest, I have never done anything of the sort before, because +I have never felt the same inclination.”</p> + +<p>“I thought that you were rather by way of being the +support of the ladies of the ballet at Monte Carlo,” she +observed. “Did you not entertain them at supper and +that sort of thing?”</p> + +<p>“I entertained them at supper occasionally,” Gerald +admitted, “but that is the extent of my acquaintance +with them.”</p> + +<p>“Then there was a child whom you and your friend +found at a mountain farm—she became your ward, did +she not?—a pretty child, with large, affectionate +eyes?”</p> + +<p>“My family has relieved me of my responsibility in +that direction,” Gerald replied. “She is living down at +Hinterleys with my people. My father will allow no +one else to read to him, my sister is devoted to her, and +my friend is in love with her.”</p> + +<p>“I still do not understand what made you buy my +pearls,” Pauline remarked, after a moment’s thoughtful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>silence, “or under what possible conditions you contemplated +returning them to me.”</p> + +<p>“I bought them because I am in love with you,” Gerald +declared.</p> + +<p>She turned her head and studied him deliberately. +She was still lounging in her chair, but she gave him the +impression that she was looking down at him.</p> + +<p>“That,” she said quietly, “is a style of conversation +which you must keep for your dancing ladies or your +village maidens.”</p> + +<p>“It happens to be the truth,” he insisted doggedly.</p> + +<p>Once more she looked at him, still puzzled, but this +time a little more leniently. His dark eyes were aglow. +He was obviously in earnest.</p> + +<p>“You must forgive me if I find your methods a little +unusual,” she said. “Do I understand that you are +proposing an alliance?”</p> + +<p>“I ask you to do me the honour of becoming my +wife,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>Pauline turned to her aunt.</p> + +<p>“Aunt,” she said in French, “Lord Dombey desires +to marry me. He has just told me so most eloquently.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière’s expression was, for her, almost +tolerant.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, my dear,” she rejoined, “he is a very +amiable young man and he has given us an excellent +dinner.”</p> + +<p>Pauline turned back to Gerald, smiling.</p> + +<p>“You see, my aunt is quite reasonable about the +matter,” she remarked. “Order some more cigarettes, +will you? And some coffee, I think.”</p> + +<p>Gerald obeyed promptly. Then he leaned forward.</p> + +<p>“Madame de Ponière,” he said, “do I understand +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>that I have your permission to pay my addresses to +your niece?”</p> + +<p>“You must not be foolish,” she replied soothingly. +“We are exceedingly obliged to you for giving us dinner +in this charming place. It is really quite a revelation +to me. The <i>suprême de volaille</i> reminded me—but +that is not of any import.”</p> + +<p>“Mademoiselle de Ponière,” Gerald continued, appealing +to Pauline, “will you be my wife?”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Lord Dombey,” was the prompt but not +unkindly reply, “I will not.”</p> + +<p>“Then may I become your suitor,” he pleaded, “hoping +that you will change your mind when you find that +I am very much in earnest?”</p> + +<p>“It appears to me,” she answered, “that the office +would be a thankless one.”</p> + +<p>“I am content to take my chance,” Gerald pronounced. +“I can command all the usual resources +which might make life more endurable for you. My +personal devotion you are already assured of.”</p> + +<p>“You had better not tempt us too far,” Pauline +warned him, a little bitterly. “The good folk at Monte +Carlo were only guessing when they called us adventuresses, +but we are down on our luck just now—we +might accept your offer.”</p> + +<p>“I will take my risk,” Gerald declared eagerly. +“You have given me no encouragement. You have no +responsibility. As for the rest, we are all adventurers +or adventuresses, more or less. I am in quest of happiness, +and I have met no one else except you who could +give it to me.”</p> + +<p>There was a touch of real feeling in her eyes as she +glanced towards him, feeling, however, composed of +varying elements,—some curiosity, a tinge of scorn, an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>iota of compassion. She shrugged her shoulders +slightly beneath her wrap of black lace.</p> + +<p>“How long do you remain in London, Lord Dombey?” +she enquired.</p> + +<p>“As long as I can be of service to you,” was the quick +reply. “I was going down to Hinterleys soon, for +want of something better to do. A day’s visit there +will suffice. I shall remain at your service.”</p> + +<p>“I am in love with another man,” Pauline assured +him.</p> + +<p>Gerald considered the matter for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I do not believe it,” he declared.</p> + +<p>Pauline sighed.</p> + +<p>“Nevertheless, it is true,” she reiterated. “He is +very bad-tempered, and if he knows that I am accepting +all these attentions from another man, he will certainly +quarrel with you.”</p> + +<p>“I will risk it,” Gerald decided.</p> + +<p>“How am I to get rid of this persistent young +man?” Pauline asked her aunt.</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière had a great deal to say about the +subject in a rapid undertone. When she had finished, +Pauline turned back to her companion.</p> + +<p>“My aunt was very much against a renewal of our +acquaintance,” she told him, “but, as she justly remarks, +one must live. This evening has turned our +heads a little—a return to the fleshpots, you know, +and that sort of thing. You shall be my suitor if you +will, Lord Dombey, but of one thing you may be very +sure—I shall never marry you.”</p> + +<p>“There is another thing of which you may be equally +sure,” Gerald rejoined. “I shall never leave off trying +to persuade you to.”</p> + +<p>“Gallant but pig-headed,” Pauline murmured. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>“You can judge of my aunt’s newly found tolerance +when I tell you that she permits us to walk in the rose +garden. I want to see whether those delphiniums are +really as blue as they seem to be.”</p> + +<p>Gerald sprang eagerly to his feet and they moved off +together across the lawn. He was obliged continually +to half pause, to return the greetings of his many +friends. Pauline walked steadily on, looking neither to +the right nor to the left, composed and stately, her +clothes, although they were not in the very latest style, +individual and obviously the creation of an artist. +People put their heads together and whispered. The +same question must have been asked a score of times +before they left the little crowd behind them, but no one +knew, no one could even hazard a surmise as to whom +Gerald’s companion might be.</p> + +<p>The walk in the rose gardens, although Gerald welcomed +with intense satisfaction this new phase in his +relations with Pauline, was in some ways a disappointment. +Pauline looked around her all the time with serene +pleasure. She was fond of flowers, she knew them +all by name, and paused often to admire some wonderfully +fine bloom. She acceded without demur to his +suggestion that they should take one of the small boats +moored against the bridge and lay back amongst the +cushions whilst he lazily sculled round the small stretch +of water. On the far side of the island he let the boat +drift and laid the oar across his knees.</p> + +<p>“Pauline,” he said, leaning a little forward, “you are +adorable.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it goes without saying that you should +find me so,” she answered composedly. “I suppose, +also, that I must permit you the privilege of my Christian +name. On the other hand, do not try to get on too +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>quickly, will you? I must warn you that you have +reached the extreme limit of my complaisance.”</p> + +<p>His eyes flashed for a moment. He was much too +spoilt to regard her indifference as anything more than +part of the game. It was a duel between the two, the +result of which he scarcely doubted, but with his usual +impetuosity he resented delay.</p> + +<p>“You will accept me some day,” he said. “Why +not now? We could spend the honeymoon in Paris and +go on to the Italian lakes. Or we could be married at +the Embassy in Paris, if you liked. Enthoven, the first +secretary, is my cousin, and would see things through +for us.”</p> + +<p>“You are taking base advantage of this lonely spot,” +she murmured, dipping her hand in the water. “I +have told you that I am in love with another man.”</p> + +<p>“You will forget him in a week,” Gerald assured her. +“I am a most companionable person.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt that you have given many people +the opportunity of finding you so,” she replied drily. +“However, I am not prepared just yet for such an +experiment.”</p> + +<p>“Pauline, do you like me a little?” he asked earnestly.</p> + +<p>She looked him in the eyes.</p> + +<p>“Not very much,” she admitted frankly. “You see, +the nicer part of me—the part with which I should +care—is numb—numbed with misfortune. The most +that I can say is that if you are very kind, I may +change—to some extent. Personally, I think it hopeless.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t consider, I suppose,” he suggested, +“telling me your history now that we are on a slightly +different footing?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>“Nothing would induce me to do anything of the +sort,” she replied. “I think that we have left my aunt +alone quite long enough.”</p> + +<p>He took up the scull and dug it into the still, stagnant +water. He did not speak again until they reached +the landing stage.</p> + +<p>“Where is this other man?” he asked, as he handed +her out.</p> + +<p>She thought for several moments before she answered. +Then she turned towards him with the air of one who +has arrived at a decision.</p> + +<p>“The other man,” she declared, “is my brother. He +is in prison, condemned to what you call, I believe, penal +servitude.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Hinterleys</span> leaned back in his chair and prepared +to enjoy his greatest treat during the day,—his +one glass of vintage port.</p> + +<p>“So you did not go to Scotland after all, Gerald?” +he remarked, on the evening of the latter’s arrival at +Hinterleys.</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t go, sir,” Gerald replied. “Some old +friends of mine turned up in town. I have been spending +a good deal of time with them.”</p> + +<p>“I would have preferred hearing that you had been +on the moors,” his father observed, with a glance at his +son’s pallid face and careworn expression. “London in +August always seems to me intolerable.”</p> + +<p>“It was certainly very hot,” Gerald admitted. “I +was on the river a great deal of the time, though.”</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. Lord Hinterleys was, as +a rule, a reserved man, and he very much disliked the +task which he had set himself. He dallied with it for a +few moments, looking through the high window, across +the terrace to the gardens below. His face softened as +he glanced at the two girlish figures seated under the +cedar tree, where coffee was being served.</p> + +<p>“You have been guilty, I suppose, Gerald,” he said +drily, “of the usual number of indiscretions, but one +action of yours which threatened to come under that +heading, I shall always remember with gratitude. +Myrtile is the most wonderful child who ever came to +brighten a somewhat dull household.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>“I am glad you approve of her, sir,” Gerald replied +indifferently.</p> + +<p>“The more I study her,” Lord Hinterleys went on +earnestly, “the more she fills me with amazement. It +seems as though she must be some sort of a spiritual +changeling. I have always been, as you know, rather +a stickler for race. Myrtile is one of those marvellous +exceptions which upset all argument. She is an aristocrat +to the finger tips in every way, small or great, +that counts. It seems as though it were absolutely +impossible for her to do an ungracious or ungraceful +thing. She has destroyed every prejudice I ever possessed.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was interested at last. It was many years +since he had known his father so enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>“I am very glad you kept her here, sir,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>“I am more than glad—I am thankful,” was the +fervent reply. “I look forward with a pleasure which +I can scarcely describe to the hours she gives up for +my entertainment. When I think that nothing but an +outbreak of scarlet fever in the household to which she +was bound was responsible for her staying here long +enough for us to appreciate her, I can never feel sufficiently +thankful. To watch her development, too, during +the last year, has been like watching a beautiful +flower.”</p> + +<p>“She’s made a conquest of you, at any rate, dad,” +Gerald remarked. “I thought myself that she looked +perfectly sweet to-night at dinner time.”</p> + +<p>“She has made a conquest of me to an extent which +I should never have believed possible,” Lord Hinterleys +admitted, glancing across at his son. “I have had an +elderly man’s desire, Gerald, to welcome home to Hinterleys +the woman whom you might decide to choose for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>a wife. I have kept a little list in my mind of the +young women at present known to Society, whom it +would give me pleasure to see here. I have never for +one second contemplated the addition to that list of an +unknown person. And yet——”</p> + +<p>“There is no question of anything of that sort between +Myrtile and me, sir,” Gerald declared, breaking +a somewhat embarrassed pause.</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys sipped his port and looked once +more out of the window. Gerald, a little startled by +his father’s unexpected suggestion, was suddenly conscious +of that one wild moment after his supper party +at the Hôtel de Paris, of Christopher’s stern figure, of +that strange medley of sensations, the flare of passion +which seemed to have perished in the shame of Christopher’s +triumph. He, too, looked out of the window. +Myrtile had been a child then. She was a woman now, +more wonderful, more gracious, just as completely virginal. +Yet to him she existed at that moment only as +the picture of something that had passed.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid,” his father said, a little sadly, “that +Myrtile does not look at it in quite the same way. However, +that is nothing. It may be only a sort of hero worship +with her. It was you, I understand, who took +the initiative in bringing her away from her home. Her +indifference to your sex is a little abnormal for her +years. Doubtless it will pass when the right man arrives. +I envy that man more than any other living.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys slowly finished his wine. Gerald +produced his cigarette case.</p> + +<p>“You are ready, sir?” he asked. “Will you take +my arm?”</p> + +<p>“Not for a moment,” was the quiet reply. “You +perceive, from my references to Myrtile, that I am in a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>confidential frame of mind. I shall go even further to +prove it.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t mind my cigarette, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Not in the least.—Gerald, I do not, as a rule, interfere +in such matters, as you know, but I take a +certain natural interest, I think, in your associates and +your affairs generally. It has come to my knowledge +through various channels that you have spent the +greater part of the last month with two ladies bearing +a French name—an aunt and a niece, I believe—both +unknown to English Society.”</p> + +<p>“That is true, sir,” Gerald admitted.</p> + +<p>“Furthermore,” Lord Hinterleys continued, “although +again I am a little outside my province, I must +confess that I was somewhat disturbed to hear from +Mr. Bendover that you had offered for sale a portion +of the Lutsall property and were considering a mortgage +upon Rhysalls.”</p> + +<p>“I do not know why Mr. Bendover should have troubled +you with these details,” Gerald said, a little uneasily, +“but in the main they are correct.”</p> + +<p>“I make you an allowance, as you know,” his father +continued, “as my only son and the heir to Hinterleys, +of five thousand a year, which I can well afford to +do. You have yourself something like the same amount, +I believe. You occupy a portion of Hinterleys House +in town, and you have the use of my servants there. +Your polo ponies, by express arrangement, have always +been charged to my own stable expenses. You must forgive +my feeling some surprise, therefore, at the fact that +you have found it necessary to raise these large sums of +money.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was silent for a moment, conscious of and inwardly +resenting his father’s anxious scrutiny. Something +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>of the bitterness which he was feeling showed itself, +perhaps, in his tone.</p> + +<p>“I needed the money, dad,” he said. “It will probably +all come back to me, or its value.”</p> + +<p>“If the necessity is occasioned by your losses at +cards or on the turf,” Lord Hinterleys continued, “I +should prefer making you some advance myself, to having +you part with land which belonged to your great-grandmother, +or executing a mortgage upon any part +of your property.”</p> + +<p>“I have needed the money for quite a different purpose,” +Gerald explained, “a purpose which precluded +my applying to you. There are other people involved.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” Lord Hinterleys concluded drily. “We will +leave the matter where it is, then, for the present.—If +you will give me your arm now, we will take our +coffee in the gardens.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry, dad, to seem mysterious and uncommunicative, +and that sort of thing,” Gerald apologised, with +an attempt at levity. “I’m not quite off my head, I +can assure you.”</p> + +<p>“You have never presented yourself to my mind, +Gerald,” his father admitted, “as being a likely tool +for the adventurers or harpies of the world. I shall +continue to believe that you are able to take care of +yourself, although I am bound to say that I regret +your lack of confidence.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be in a position to tell you the whole story +very shortly,” Gerald promised. “The element of secrecy +about it at present has nothing to do with me.”</p> + +<p>They made their way through the window, on to the +terrace, down the steps and across the lawn to the +cedar tree. Myrtile was standing behind the coffee +tray, and Gerald, remembering his father’s recent words, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>gazed at her with a new, though somewhat languid interest. +She was wearing a simple frock of grey muslin, +her hair was parted in the middle and drooped low over +her ears. The thinness of a year ago had given place +to the slender perfection of early womanhood. She had +the air of being wholly and gracefully at her ease, yet +the sweetness of her smile, a certain ever-present but +unobtrusive desire to please, seemed like the hallmarks +of her constant but unexpressed gratitude. Lady +Mary, sunburnt and amiable, lolled in a hammock, with +a cigarette between her teeth. There was a telegram +upon her knee. She seemed content with life.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard the news?” she asked. “Christopher +has been invited to stand for West Leeds. It is a +certain seat and he has accepted. He is coming down +to-morrow afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Good old Chris!” Gerald murmured. “Though +what on earth he wants to spend half his time pottering +about the House of Commons for, I can’t imagine.”</p> + +<p>“Your friend Christopher Bent,” Lord Hinterleys +observed, “finds his pleasures, without a doubt, somewhat +interfered with by the possession of some out-of-date +principles. He will be very welcome here.—My +coffee and the evening paper, if you please, Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile’s attention had momentarily wandered. Her +eyes were fixed upon Gerald, who was looking paler and +more tired than ever in the clear evening twilight.</p> + +<p>“You found it hot in the city?” she asked softly, as +she poured out the coffee.</p> + +<p>He frowned impatiently. There is nothing which +irritates a selfish man more than the evidences of an +affection which he does not covet.</p> + +<p>“If it was, I don’t deserve any sympathy,” he replied. +“I was only there because it amused me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>He threw himself into a chair, declined coffee with +unnecessary abruptness, and asked for brandy. +Myrtile, with a little pain at her heart, no infrequent +visitor there, took her place apart from the others, near +Lord Hinterleys, and, spreading out the newspaper, +commenced her evening task.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> world seemed a very good place to Lady Mary +as, from the depths of her chair under the cedar tree +on the following afternoon, she watched Christopher, +conducted as far as the terrace by the butler, descend +the steps lightly and move across the lawn towards her. +He had been away for a holiday earlier in the summer +and was still healthily tanned. His grey tweeds became +him. He walked with the dignity and assurance of a +man whose life is being worthily lived. It was a long +way across the lawn, and the girl who waited for his +coming had time for a crowd of pleasant thoughts as +she watched the approach of the man on whom she had +set her heart. Everything that he did and had done in +life appealed to her. She even appreciated now the +reticence which he had shown in their many conversations, +the absence of any indications of more than ordinary +interest in her. He had sentiment enough,—that +was proved by the tenderness for Myrtile to which +he had confessed that night at Monte Carlo, a night +which she had always remembered as one of the unhappiest +of her life. She had long since been convinced, +both by his manner and Myrtile’s, that the +tenderness, such as it had been, had become merged in a +purely fraternal and kindly regard. Of his reticence +towards herself she thought nothing. He was possessed, +as she well knew, of a very high sense of honour, and +she had always felt that, however greatly she might +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>have desired to hear his declaration, he would say nothing +until he had passed definitely out of the somewhat +miscellaneous category of rising young men into the +position of one whose future is assured. To-day he +was the youngest K. C., and a seat in Parliament was +almost within his reach. She thought of her own fortune +with a deep sense of pleasure. It was larger than +he imagined, larger than any one else except herself +and her father knew. Christopher would be free to +make the best of himself, free for all time from any +shadow of financial worry. How well he looked, how +strong and eager! She held out both her hands as he +drew near, and her smile of welcome made her for a +moment radiantly beautiful.</p> + +<p>“How delightful to see you, Christopher!” she exclaimed. +“And what wonderful news! It’s just what +you wanted, isn’t it, and just what we all wanted for +you.”</p> + +<p>He took her hands and stood smiling down at her. +Her heart was beginning to beat more quickly. She +hoped that he would suggest walking in the gardens.</p> + +<p>“It is a wonderful stroke of fortune, isn’t it?” he +agreed. “It all came about through going down to +help Andrew Hodgson at the Darlington election. I +knew I’d got on pretty well with the speech-making +down there, but I never thought it would lead to this.”</p> + +<p>He did not sit down, nor did he suggest the gardens. +He had looked around for a moment, almost as though +disappointed to find her alone. Still her heart did not +misgive her. She thought him a little nervous, and +she smiled tolerantly.</p> + +<p>“You were a dear to telegraph to me at once,” she +said. “I can’t tell you how interested and flattered I +was.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>“I wanted you all to know,” he declared, looking +around once more. “How is every one?”</p> + +<p>“In excellent health, thank you,” she answered. +“Father is having his usual afternoon sleep. Gerald +has been here, but, as I dare say you know, he went +away this morning. We must talk about him later, +Christopher. I am rather worried—but that can +wait. Will you sit down, or would you like to see how +wonderful the gardens are?”</p> + +<p>He looked at her a little apologetically, yet without +the slightest idea of how great an apology was needed.</p> + +<p>“I wondered,” he said, “if I could see Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile?” Mary repeated.</p> + +<p>He assented a little sheepishly, yet with a rather +engaging smile.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to see her and tell her about it,” he confided. +“She won’t understand just what it means, perhaps, +but she’s so much more of a woman now.”</p> + +<p>His voice seemed to come from a long way off. It +seemed all part of a horrible nightmare, something unreal, +some black thought, the figment of a nocturnal +fancy.—Then she was conscious of his standing before +her, waiting, expectant, with the eagerness of a lover in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile went down to gather some roses,” she told +him. “You will find her at the end of the pergola.”</p> + +<p>He was gone almost before the words had left her +lips, gone with some sort of mumbled excuse, unconscious +of the tragedy he had created, clumsily oblivious +of the fierce struggle which had kept her calm and collected. +She turned her head and watched him go, +watched his long, eager footsteps, saw his tall figure +stoop as he entered the pergola. Her fingers tore at +the sides of her chair. She looked at the distance between +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>her and the terrace steps. If only she could escape! +Her limbs for the time seemed powerless. She +sat there with all the healthy colour drained from her +cheeks, her fixed eyes seeing nothing but the ruin of her +confident hopes. There were three old ladies in the +family of Hinterleys—one her father’s sister, the +others a little more distantly related—prim beings, +full of the weaknesses and prejudices evolved by their +unlived lives. She remembered now how she had shrunk, +even in her school days, from the thought of ever finding +herself in a similar situation. But she was suddenly +face to face with it now. She could see herself +growing old, marching down the avenues of time, preserving +in a certain measure, perhaps, her dignity, but +growing day by day a little more jealous and narrow, +a little more captious of the happiness of others. There +was only one Christopher, and he was there at the bottom +of the pergola with Myrtile. Even in her bitterness +she did not blame him for a moment. There were +a hundred different ways in which she might have misunderstood +him. She had made the foolish mistake of +many ignorant young women. She had mistaken companionship, +and the desire for companionship, on his +part, for the subtler and rarer gift which she herself +had been so ready to offer. Christopher, she remembered, +had even warned her, more than a year ago, at +the villa in Monte Carlo that night when they had +paced the terrace together. She had refused to take +him seriously, and he had never once reverted to the +subject. It had seemed to her, indeed, that he had almost +avoided Myrtile during his visits to Hinterleys, +and she had commended him for his discretion. Myrtile +was sweet and full of charm, but what use could she be +as a wife to an ambitious man like Christopher? How +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>she herself could have helped with her sympathy, her +social influence, her tact, to say nothing of her great +fortune! It was amazing what follies a man could commit +for the sake of a fancy! She could call it nothing +else.</p> + +<p>Presently she rose calmly to her feet and walked towards +the house. Soon it swallowed her up, the key +was turned in the door of her room, the long minutes +that passed were her own. She never counted them +then, she never dwelt on them afterwards. The period +of her agony was, in fact, short enough. Her pride +came to her rescue. When her maid tapped on the +door she had already bathed her eyes, and there remained +nothing to denote her suffering but a little tired +look about her mouth and a slight weariness of gait. +She opened the door at once.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Bent is obliged to go back to town almost immediately, +your ladyship,” the maid announced. “He +has asked specially whether he could see you for a moment.”</p> + +<p>“Tell Mr. Bent that I shall be down in five minutes,” +her mistress enjoined.</p> + +<p>The maid departed, and Mary turned once more +anxiously to the mirror. This was a trial which she +had scarcely expected. Her fingers passed over her +face, anxious to smooth out its lines. Her lips moved, +as though she were uttering a prayer. She was, indeed, +appealing to herself, to the strength and pride +of her young womanhood. When she entered the library +where Christopher was waiting for her, she knew that +she was free from all trace of disturbance.</p> + +<p>“Christopher, you don’t mean that you are going to +leave us at once?” she protested. “And where is +Myrtile? I expected to see you both together.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>“I left Myrtile where I found her,” Christopher answered, +a little harshly. “Will you keep my secret, +please, Mary, and forget my visit?”</p> + +<p>“Forget your visit?” she repeated wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile does not care for me,” Christopher explained, +“not in the way I want her to. It is the same +with her now as from that first moment. I thought it +was a fancy of which she might have been cured. I +find it is nothing of the sort.”</p> + +<p>At that moment Mary hated herself, hated the joy +which swelled up in her heart, hated the sudden passionate +rush of blood through all her veins, the sense +of grotesque, immeasurable relief. She hated the lying +words she spoke.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Christopher, I am so sorry!” she said. “I +do not understand, but I am very, very sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile loves Gerald,” he continued. “She will +love him all her days. She is one of those strange +creatures who will never change, to whom love is just +one final thing for good or for evil. She loved Gerald +when she stepped into the car and we carried her with +us along the road around the end of which she had +woven all her dreams. She cares for him so much that +I am not sure whether, at the bottom of her pure heart, +she does not hate me because I once kept them apart.”</p> + +<p>She laid her hand upon his arm. That sense of sickening +joy had gone. She was a woman again, feeling +nothing but sorrow for the suffering of her man.</p> + +<p>“Christopher dear,” she begged, “Myrtile will see +the truth in time. Gerald cares nothing for her, nothing +for anybody except himself and his own pleasures. +She will understand this presently. Remember, although +she has grown so sensible and so gracious in her +attitude towards life, she is really only a child.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>“In one way she will always be a child,” he answered +sadly. “Her love will last her time, whether Gerald +ever returns it or not.”</p> + +<p>“There is still your work,” she went on, “great, wonderful +work waiting for you. And your friends. Don’t +take this so hardly, Christopher.”</p> + +<p>He looked down at her with a very forced smile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I shall get over it,” he assured her. “I am +not the first man who has had to face this sort of thing. +It is odd, though, that it should have happened to me. +Whatever thoughts I may have had in the past about +marriage were so different.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it just possible, perhaps,” she ventured, “that +those other thoughts were the wisest?”</p> + +<p>“Wisdom has so little to do with life, really,” he +answered drearily. “I should have planned it differently +if I could.—Well, I had to see you, Mary. +You’ve been perfectly sweet, as I knew you would be. +I want to get off without seeing a soul now, if I can. +You won’t mind?”</p> + +<p>“Of course not! You wouldn’t like me to speak to +Myrtile?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely useless,” he replied. “She was really +shocked when she knew why I had come. I believe it +seems to her a trifle irreligious to discuss the possibility +of her caring for any one except Gerald. No, I’m not +going to encourage any false hopes, Mary. I’ve had my +answer and there’s an end of it. What I want to do is +to get away.”</p> + +<p>“That you can do and shall,” she assented. “I did +so want to hear about Leeds, but that must be another +time. You won’t keep away from us because of this, +Christopher?”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” he promised half-heartedly. “I’ll +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>write, if I may. There are heaps of things I want to +tell you. You won’t mind?”</p> + +<p>She smiled and let him open the door, taking him by +a devious way to the courtyard where his car was still +standing.</p> + +<p>“There,” she directed, “you can go out by the south +drive, across the deer park, and you won’t meet a soul.”</p> + +<p>He held her hand tightly for a moment at parting.</p> + +<p>“God bless you, Mary!” he said. “You’re a wonderful +pal.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she answered simply.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V</h3> +</div> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Well</span>, thank heavens you haven’t forgotten how to +hold your gun straight!” Lord Hinterleys remarked, a +few days later, laying his hand affectionately upon his +son’s shoulder. “It is always a treat to see you shoot, +Gerald. I used to fancy myself when I was your age, +but I could never have touched your performance to-day.”</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t forget the difference in the guns, dad,” +Gerald reminded him, “and the powder. You were +pretty useful yourself at those last two drives.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys mounted his pony.</p> + +<p>“I brought down a beautiful high one at Smith’s +corner,” he admitted.—“Are you sure, you people, +that you wouldn’t like to have a car sent down? I +shall be home in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, +and Oliver could be here with the shooting brake whilst +you are having a cup of tea with Mrs. Amos.”</p> + +<p>No one, it appeared, was tired. Gerald shouldered +his gun and passed his arm through Myrtile’s.</p> + +<p>“Come along,” he invited, “we’ll go home through +the forty-acre wood. It isn’t more than a mile. It +seems to me we’ve been standing about all day.”</p> + +<p>“I should like it very much,” Myrtile assented joyfully.</p> + +<p>“We are all coming presently,” Mary remarked. +“Amos is just making up the bag. Dad wants the +exact figures. Don’t you want some tea, Myrtile? +Lady Hadley and I are going to have some.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>Myrtile shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I do not care for tea very much, as you know,” she +said, “and I should like to walk with Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“Showing thereby your good taste, my child,” Gerald +observed, as they strolled off, “and also a wise regard +for your digestion.”</p> + +<p>“One sees so little of you nowadays,” Myrtile sighed. +“You are all the time in London.”</p> + +<p>“You’re not going to lecture me?”</p> + +<p>“That would not be for me,” she said gravely. “If +you think it well to be there, it is well. I am only glad +that you are here to-day. It has made your father so +happy.”</p> + +<p>They crossed the meadow and entered the little wood. +The path here was so narrow that Gerald took Myrtile’s +arm again. He was quite unconscious that at his touch +she shivered with emotion.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” he confided, “I saw Chris yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Poor old chap,” Gerald went on, “he looked absolutely +done in. I made him come and have some dinner +with me. I don’t think he meant to tell me, but it all +came out in time. He told me about his visit here.”</p> + +<p>She walked on, her head uplifted, her face a little +tense.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“I’d no idea,” Gerald continued, “that he was seriously +in love with you, Myrtile. He’s such a sober sort +of chap really—no lady friends, you know, or anything +of that sort. When he takes a fancy to any one, +it’s a serious affair.”</p> + +<p>“He is not like you, Gerald,” she said quietly.</p> + +<p>“You’re quite right, he isn’t,” Gerald acknowledged +frankly. “We all have our different hobbies. I candidly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>admit that the society of your sex has been one +of mine. Christopher has never been like that, though. +You are his first love, Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>“It is a great pity,” she declared.</p> + +<p>“You used to seem very fond of him,” Gerald hazarded, +“and he certainly looked after you jolly well at +Monte Carlo.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean,” Myrtile asked calmly, “when he +came to your room in the Hôtel de Paris, after the +supper party?”</p> + +<p>Gerald was completely taken aback. She had turned +and was looking at him with her large, serious eyes. +She was deliberately forcing upon him the memory of +an episode which he had slurred over in his mind.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of that altogether,” he replied, +with a certain rare awkwardness. “All the same——”</p> + +<p>“All the same, what, please?” she insisted, after a +moment’s pause. “I should like you to finish your +sentence.”</p> + +<p>“Well, from old Chris’s point of view, he was doing +the chivalrous thing, and all that,” Gerald explained +clumsily. “He must have thought, of course, that I +was going to be a perfect brute.”</p> + +<p>“Were you not?” she asked.</p> + +<p>He was amazed at her coolness. She, whose purity +seemed rather to increase with her larger knowledge of +the world, seemed to be forcing him to speak of those +very ugly moments.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid that I can’t say what would have happened,” +he admitted. “I was very much attracted by +you, and you hadn’t the faintest idea what it all meant. +So, you see, you do owe him a very great debt of gratitude, +Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>“I do not think so,” she replied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>Gerald was more startled than ever. Her deliberate +speech seemed to him almost a challenge.</p> + +<p>“You are about the only person in the world who +would say that,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so,” she admitted. “Perhaps, too, I am +the only one who is in a position to know.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was poignantly interested. He looked down +at her face, calm and serious. There was no added +colour in her cheeks, no sign of any confusion.</p> + +<p>“You mean that you are sorry that Christopher interfered? +That you would have risked my forgetting—all +that I ought to have remembered?”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry that Christopher interfered,” she said +distinctly. “At that moment I loved you, and I did +not know that it was wicked for me to love you. If +afterwards you had got tired of me, as you would have +done, then I should have killed myself when I understood. +But I should have been happy first.”</p> + +<p>“But aren’t you happy now?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I am very contented,” she answered, “and I am +very, very grateful. I think that no one in the world +has ever received such wonderful kindness as I have. +But happiness, it seems to me, is a thing apart. It is +a great and a wonderful and a rare gift. I do not think +that very many people possess it, although they think +they do. I should have possessed it, for however short +a time, if Christopher had not interfered.”</p> + +<p>Gerald was staggered. It seemed to him that this +girl, walking so sedately by his side, had suddenly become +his monitress; was trying to explain to him, as +though he were a pupil, great and elemental things.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” he declared, “you surprise me very much. +I never dreamed that you would feel like that. Supposing, +then, I were to say to you—‘Come away from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>here with me to-morrow; come up to London and be my +companion there’?”</p> + +<p>“You could not do that,” she said simply. “You +could not offer me so terrible and so ugly an insult. +Surely you understand that then I did not know that +you did not love me?”</p> + +<p>“I see,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>“I loved you,” she went on, her eyes lifted a little to +the interlacing boughs of the trees under which they +were passing, “when you came like a prince to the gate +where I stood shaking with terror, and laughed at my +fears. I loved you when you pointed to the end of the +road and promised to take me there. I loved you in +those first few moments, and just as it seemed to me +then that I had loved you before I was born, so I know +that I shall love you after I die. That is just the kind +of wisdom which even children have. Where I was +simple and ignorant was that I did not understand that +love could be one-sided. I thought that love belonged +to two people. Now I know very differently.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtile——” he began.</p> + +<p>She checked him gravely.</p> + +<p>“To-day,” she continued, “there is more for me to +say than for you, because I am rather glad that you +should understand. Only you must not talk to me about +Christopher. I am very sorry, but I think that he is +foolish. I was a peasant child and I knew nothing. +But a wise, clever man like Christopher should understand. +It seems to me absurd that he should think it +possible that I might love him. It is so absurd that I +do not believe his love is a real thing. I think that he +will soon forget.”</p> + +<p>“What is to become of you, then, Myrtile?” Gerald +demanded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>She looked up at him with a smile.</p> + +<p>“What happens to all those others,” she asked, +“who go through life as I shall go through it? They +are very content. Very many pleasant things come +their way. They are spared a great deal of suffering. +So it will be with me. Now that we have had this talk, +Gerald, I can speak to you, perhaps, a little more +frankly. I watch you so closely that I see things which +others might not notice. You were without actual happiness +before because you did not understand what happiness +was. Now you are unhappy. That is so sad.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Gerald admitted, “I am unhappy.”</p> + +<p>“There is some one for whom you care?”</p> + +<p>He had no idea of evading the issue. He replied at +once, simply and directly.</p> + +<p>“It is Mademoiselle de Ponière, whom I met at Monte +Carlo, and who used to go out with me in the car. I +have met her again.”</p> + +<p>“And yet you are not happy?”</p> + +<p>“I am not happy,” Gerald acknowledged, “because +I have not the least idea whether she cares for me or +not. She is very mysterious. She has troubles which +she will not let me share.”</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that Myrtile smiled. They were +out of the wood now and crossing the park.</p> + +<p>“All that you tell me is very strange,” she confessed. +“I do not pretend to understand it. One hears, Gerald, +that in your way you have cared for very many women. +That is rather a pity, but, if it is true, you perhaps +do not know your own mind. Are you sure that you +love this young lady?”</p> + +<p>“I only know that she makes me feel and suffer as +no one else in the world has ever done,” he answered a +little drearily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>They were approaching the house now. Myrtile laid +her fingers timidly upon his arm.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me, Gerald,” she said, with a rather +pathetic smile, “that we have changed rôles. You +asked me to walk home with you that you might talk +to me about Christopher, and now we have finished all +that and it is your own affairs only which remain.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing about my affairs which even lends +itself to discussion,” Gerald sighed.</p> + +<p>“Not at present,” Myrtile assented, “but in the end +there must come happiness, because where there is love +there is always happiness.—May I say one word +more?”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“It is of your father. Why is he so troubled about +you?”</p> + +<p>Gerald frowned.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, Myrtile,” he said, “that that is a +matter which I cannot altogether explain to you.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you are right,” she admitted. “I must +dare to say this, though, because, you see, I am with +your father many hours in the day, and he is not so +strong as he was and so he shows his mind more easily. +Something about you is worrying him. That is not +right, is it?”</p> + +<p>Gerald was silent for a moment. A telegraph boy, +who had been riding down the drive which curved +through the park, seeing them, had dismounted from +his bicycle and was crossing the turf towards them with +an orange-coloured envelope in his hand. Gerald took +it from him, tore it open, and read the few lines which +it contained. Then he gave the boy a coin and dismissed +him. He looked once more at the message.</p> + +<p>“It is good news?” Myrtile enquired gravely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>“Good enough,” Gerald answered. “I have been +living in a miserable state of uncertainty. Now it will +all be cleared up.”</p> + +<p>“There will be no more trouble, then?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot say that,” he replied, “but at least there +will be action. Next week will see the beginning of the +elucidation. I leave for Russia on Tuesday.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> change in Pauline’s manner, when Gerald was +ushered by an untidy-looking waiter into her sitting +room on the following afternoon, was almost electrifying. +In place of her usual languid greeting, she sprang +lightly to her feet and gave him both her hands. The +slight sullenness had all gone from her face. There +was no living person just then who would not have +found her beautiful.</p> + +<p>“You received my telegram?” she demanded eagerly.</p> + +<p>“And I came to you at once,” was the prompt reply.</p> + +<p>She drew him down to her side upon the sofa. Her +manner and tone displayed an animation entirely new +to her.</p> + +<p>“Reusser returned the night before last,” she said. +“He seems to have had a comparatively easy journey, +and he reports conditions over there very much more +lenient in many ways. He had no difficulty in landing, +or in making his way wherever he wished to go. On +the other hand, the stories he brings back as to the +distress and misery everywhere are simply shocking. +The country bleeds to death. There are few trains +running, no order, no discipline, despotic and arbitrary +police surveillance everywhere. But there is also corruption. +People, especially the official classes, are looking +everywhere for the means to live. A merchant who +was imprisoned only a month or so ago on a charge of +murder, to which he actually pleaded ‘Guilty’, was set +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>free the day before Reusser left. It cost him little more +than five thousand roubles.”</p> + +<p>“Did this man Reusser discover where your brother +was?” Gerald asked.</p> + +<p>“For ten thousand roubles,” she answered, “he +could have searched every police register in Russia. +Paul is at the Fortress of St. Maria, at a small town +called Sokar, about three hundred miles south of Petrograd. +It is a bad journey, of course, but the place is +accessible. The Governor of the prison is a Major +Krossneys. He is half an Austrian and half a Pole. +When he is sober, he is simply greedy. When he is +drunk, he is reckless. He is to be managed with ease, +but always it is to be remembered that Paul is his chief +prisoner. If Paul were to escape,” she went on thoughtfully, +“he would, without a doubt, lose his post, certainly +his promotion; he might even have to flee the +country. To buy him would probably cost a sum of +money sufficient to support him for the rest of his life. +There are still people who would tear Paul to pieces if +they knew who he was.”</p> + +<p>“This Major Krossneys,” Gerald enquired, “does he +speak French?”</p> + +<p>“Fortunately, yes,” was the eager assent. “Tell +me, Gerald, what do you think of it all?”</p> + +<p>“Just this,” he replied. “I shall sail on Tuesday. +There is a steamer from Hull. In less than two months +I will bring your brother back.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes shone. She seemed to be trembling in every +limb. There was ecstasy in her face, passion on her +quivering lips. Yet even as he drew a little nearer to +her, Gerald was drearily conscious that she had almost +forgotten his presence. It was the thought of her +brother which had wrought this transformation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>“If I bring him back to you, Pauline——” he began.</p> + +<p>She suddenly seized him by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Bring him back!” she interrupted passionately. +“I make no bargain. I give no promise—you should +know better than to ask for any such. All that I can +tell you is that I would give my soul to see him again.”</p> + +<p>Gerald clenched his hands almost in pain.</p> + +<p>“Pauline,” he pleaded, “for heaven’s sake, soften +just a little. You keep me all the time in torment. +Paul shall be set free—I swear it. If it costs me my +fortune, my liberty, even my life, he shall be set free. +But I’m doing it for love of you. My love is choking +me. Soften for one moment. Remember what you will +be to me some day. Give me at least a memory to take +with me.”</p> + +<p>She laid her hand upon his. It seemed to him that +it was as cold as the snows. Her eyes looked into his. +They were soft and beautiful, full of colour and sweetness, +yet they looked him through as though he were a +denizen of some other world.</p> + +<p>“When I give, I give all,” she said. “You do not +understand the people of my race. We cannot give in +driblets—a kiss here, a caress there, the promise of +more to-morrow. God never made us Russians like +that. When I give, it will be the full glory of love. +Bring Paul back to me and you may know what that +can mean.”</p> + +<p>Gerald rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>“I should go to my task a stronger man,” he complained, +a little bitterly, “if you could throw me the +dole one might give to a beggar.”</p> + +<p>She gave him her finger tips. She was standing by +his side, so near that the desire to hold her in his arms +and take from her lips the one kiss he craved was almost +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>irresistible. At that moment he almost hated +her.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you even the grace to pretend?” he muttered.</p> + +<p>She laughed, wringing her fingers slightly as though +his lips had seared them.</p> + +<p>“You have been spoilt,” she murmured. “The +women you have played with have been your too willing +slaves. A trifle of homage, a trifle of philandering, a +few shadowy caresses—that is all you have known +of love.—Wait!”</p> + +<p>Gerald spent that afternoon in the City, the next few +days in making restless preparations for his absence +from London. On the afternoon of the last day, he +was permitted to see Reusser, and he recognised in him +at once the man whom he had seen watching over Madame +de Ponière and her niece in Hyde Park. The +meeting took place in the sitting room of the South +Kensington hotel. Reusser, who leaned heavily upon +two sticks, was brought thither by a tall youth, his +son, who waited for him outside the door. He was as +thin as a skeleton, his cheeks were sunken, and every +now and then his voice seemed to die away.</p> + +<p>“It is my first day out of the hospital,” he told Gerald +apologetically. “I caught cold on the way back, +and my lungs are not good. Please ask what questions +you desire. I am subject to attacks of weakness.”</p> + +<p>“I understand,” Gerald said, “that you reached +Sokar?”</p> + +<p>“I reached it,” he admitted, “but, alas! I was powerless +to act. I took with me every penny of money we +could scrape together, but by the time I reached the +city I was penniless. I lodged at the house of a saddler, +whose name you will find in the book I have given +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>you. He took me to look at the fortress. He showed +me the room where the brother of Mademoiselle lies. He +told me much about Major Krossneys, the commandant +of the fortress. But of what avail was it? We had +not enough money between us to pay for a bottle of +wine.”</p> + +<p>“How do you propose,” Gerald enquired, “that I +approach Krossneys?”</p> + +<p>“The way is arranged,” Reusser replied eagerly. +“There is a woman living in the town, half German, +half English. Her name is Elsa Francks. To-day +Krossneys is her slave. You go first to her. Her address +is in the little book you have. She speaks English +and French, besides her own language; even some +Russian. Talk to her frankly. She will bring you to +Krossneys. There is one thing, though. You must go +as an American. No one will do anything to help you, +although they are all greedy for money, if they think +that you are English. It will be quite easy, that. +There are many Americans in Russia, prospecting. +There is a great oil field on the plains south of Kreussner. +Some say there is oil there; others deny it. That +is how your bribes must be worked. You will buy property. +It will be worth nothing. You will find that +Krossneys has land to sell; so has Elsa.”</p> + +<p>“I understand,” Gerald said.</p> + +<p>“You leave to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“At ten o’clock from King’s Cross,” Gerald assented. +“The boat leaves at night.”</p> + +<p>Reusser raised his right hand.</p> + +<p>“The Father of God speed you!” he said. “Speed +is very necessary. The Government has kept that +young man alive, hoping that some day he would be +useful as a bribe or a hostage, but there are still many +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>fanatics in Russia, haters of his race, who would tear +him limb from limb if they knew.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be in Petrograd in a fortnight,” Gerald declared, +“and at Sokar, I hope, a few days later.”</p> + +<p>Reusser once more raised his hand and muttered inaudible +words. Nevertheless, though his strength +seemed departed, he tried to kneel when Pauline came +into the room. She raised him to his feet and called +to his son.</p> + +<p>“All is well,” she said, dismissing them. “Take care +of your strength, Reusser. You must be one of the first +to welcome him.”</p> + +<p>The man bowed his head and prayed silently. Then +his son led him away.</p> + +<p>Gerald also rose to his feet. He had nerved himself +for this interview.</p> + +<p>“I shall have the pleasure of wishing Madame farewell?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“My aunt sends you her excuses and her prayers,” +Pauline replied. “She is too agitated to risk a meeting. +You do not quite know what this means to us.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Gerald said, “what its results may mean +to me.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him a little sadly.</p> + +<p>“My unhappy country,” she sighed, “is to-day only +a furnace of woe and suffering, yet in the jumble of it +there are a few millions still who would kneel through +the night and pray for you, if they knew your mission. +I bid you farewell, Gerald, and every throb of my body +will live with you. I have sworn that no word of love +shall pass my lips, nor any feeling of love linger in my +heart, so long as my brother lies in that fortress. But +I am here. I would give you anything that would speed +you on your journey. It is for you to choose.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>She stood perfectly passive, her arms hanging by her +sides. Her eyes looked sadly into his, her lips were +composed and still. For a moment the fires burned in +his blood. He took a quick step forward. She waited, +unmoved, yet without shrinking. So they faced one +another for a moment. She extended her hand. Gerald +seized it, then dropped it.</p> + +<p>“I shall do my best,” he promised hoarsely. +“Good-by!”</p> + +<p>She listened to his departing footsteps; she even +moved to the window, watched him leave the hotel and +step into his waiting automobile. He was well enough +to look at, good-looking as ever in his slim, lithe way, +and with his fine carriage. Nevertheless, there was +neither love nor pride in her eyes as she watched him. +There was something else, which seemed to point back +down the avenues of the history of her family, something, +perhaps, which had sounded the knell of their +doom, generations before. It was there in her lips, in +her eyes, spelled out in her fixed stare,—the cruelty of +a race whose heart is given only to passion.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christopher</span> was warmly welcomed at Hinterleys +when he made his promised appearance there, about a +fortnight after Gerald’s departure. He would have +preferred postponing his visit altogether but for Gerald’s +urgent request, made on the night before he had +started for abroad. It all seemed very natural, however. +Myrtile welcomed him without a shade of embarrassment, +Lady Mary with her usual delightful +friendliness, and Lord Hinterleys with more than his +usual hospitality.</p> + +<p>“Any news from the traveller?” Christopher asked, +as they sat round the fire in the hall, before going up +to change.</p> + +<p>“Just a telegram yesterday from Petrograd,” Mary +replied,—“‘<i>Arrived safely. Love.</i>’”</p> + +<p>“Satisfactory so far as it goes,” Christopher remarked.</p> + +<p>“So far as it goes,” Lord Hinterleys grumbled, “but +what on earth Gerald wants to go over to that barbarous +country for, at this time of the year, I can’t +possibly imagine. Who are these friends of his, Bent? +Do you know anything about them?”</p> + +<p>“Very little,” Christopher admitted. “I gather that +they are Russian <i>emigrées</i>, but really I don’t know a +thing more about them. Gerald seems to have made +their acquaintance at Monte Carlo, when they were +occupying the next villa to yours.”</p> + +<p>“I saw them out driving once or twice,” Lord Hinterleys +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>ruminated. “The girl was beautiful and looked +well-born. The aunt might have been any one.”</p> + +<p>“I think there is no doubt that they are aristocrats,” +Christopher pronounced.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t there something rather strange about the +way they left Monte Carlo?” Mary enquired, from the +depths of her easy-chair.</p> + +<p>“Strange but not discreditable,” he hastened to assure +her. “Their steward had brought them out a +large sum of money, which appears to have been all +that they possessed in the world, and instead of handing +it over, he gambled at the tables, lost it and committed +suicide. The two women apparently sold all +their jewellery, scrupulously paid their debts and disappeared. +I believe Gerald discovered them living at a +cheap hotel in South Kensington.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t like the type,” Lord Hinterleys muttered.</p> + +<p>“The girl is very attractive,” Myrtile ventured. “I +used to see her driving sometimes with Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“All the same, I can’t see why Gerald wants to go +mixing himself up in their affairs,” his father observed +pettishly, “especially in the middle of the shooting season.”</p> + +<p>“He expects to be back before you shoot the coverts,” +Mary reminded him. “I don’t know the reason +for his journey to Russia any more than you do, but I +don’t imagine he’ll want to stop there any longer than +he can help.”</p> + +<p>“I should think not,” Lord Hinterleys grumbled,—“a +country of madmen and anarchists. I expect he’s +there on some fool’s errand.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Mary declared, laying +down the book which she had been studying at intervals, +“if Gerald didn’t know perfectly well what he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>doing—if he hadn’t, in fact, stumbled upon some sort +of a romance. The only time I have ever seen these +two women, except in the distance at Monte Carlo, was +at Ranelagh on a quiet day after the season was over; +I expect Gerald had given them vouchers. They were +walking about the gardens, and I was with Susan Armitage. +Lord Armitage, as you know, was on the Staff +at Petrograd in the old days. We met them crossing +the lawn and I heard Susan give a little exclamation. +Then she stopped quite short and stood almost to attention, +looking steadfastly at the girl. I am perfectly +certain that she was going to curtsey. I could see it +in her eye. And I am perfectly certain, too, that this +Madame de Ponière and her niece knew who she was. +They took not the slightest notice, however, so Susan +unbent and came along.”</p> + +<p>“But surely you asked her who they were?” Lord +Hinterleys enquired.</p> + +<p>“Of course I did,” Mary assented. “Susan, however, +was exceedingly mysterious. Since Jack began +to fancy himself a diplomatist, she apes all his little +ways. ‘I may be mistaken, my dear,’ she said. ‘In any +case, the ladies did not desire to be recognised.’ I +pressed her hard, but she wouldn’t even tell me who +she thought they were. Before that I had asked Gerald +if he would like me to go and see them, but he told me +they were in great trouble and were not receiving anybody +at present.”</p> + +<p>“This is all very well and charitable and that sort of +thing,” her father remarked, “but I don’t quite see +why Gerald should have had to raise thirty thousand +pounds within the last few weeks.”</p> + +<p>“Frankly, I cannot think that these two women are +responsible for it,” Mary declared. “Gerald told me, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>the day before he left, that they were still living in that +poky little South Kensington place.”</p> + +<p>“Young men are much better married, anyway,” +Lord Hinterleys growled. “Why don’t you get married, +Christopher? You could afford to, and a man +like you, with a political future, needs a wife.”</p> + +<p>Christopher smiled imperturbably.</p> + +<p>“Give me time, sir,” he begged. “It’s different with +Gerald. He has the estates, and very little else to think +about.”</p> + +<p>“Gerald’s an ass,” was the irritable reply. “He’s +too fond of women to understand them, or even to realise +when he comes across the right thing.”</p> + +<p>“Gerald may have his faults,” his sister observed, +“but at least he has spared us the usual musical comedy +infliction. There goes the gong. Christopher, come +into my room for a moment and I’ll show you those +photographs.”</p> + +<p>They trooped up the great oak staircase, and Mary +led their guest into her own little boudoir. She closed +the door carefully behind them.</p> + +<p>“Christopher,” she said, “I am so glad you came. +Honestly, I am anxious about Gerald. He came to +see you, didn’t he, the night before he sailed?”</p> + +<p>“He did,” was the cautious admission.</p> + +<p>“He must have told you a little more than he told +us,” she went on.</p> + +<p>“Very little,” Christopher assured her. “He mumbled +something about Russia being an uncertain country +just now, and got me round to his rooms to witness his +will. Of course, I don’t think there was any secret that +he was going over on business connected with these two +new friends of his. What that business is, though, I +haven’t the slightest idea.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>“Honest?”</p> + +<p>“Honest! If I were to make a guess, I should say +he was going over to see if he could do anything about +their estates, if they have any. On the other hand, if +he’d been doing that, I should have expected him to +have taken a lawyer.”</p> + +<p>“Gerald in matters of business,” his sister sighed, +“is a perfect idiot. I hope he isn’t going to get himself +into trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Well, they can’t eat him,” Christopher declared +consolingly, “and they seem to have left off murdering +people, at any rate for the present. Besides, they have +common sense enough to know that molesting Englishmen +is an expensive amusement, even in Russia.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a dear, cheering-up sort of person,” Mary +said gratefully. “And, Christopher, I haven’t had an +opportunity of saying so before, but I am still very +sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mary.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have another try, I suppose? You’re a +tenacious person.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Never,” he answered firmly. “Myrtile is a strange +little creature, but she was cast in the mould of all good +women. She loves Gerald, and so long as she lives she +will never love anybody else.”</p> + +<p>“And Gerald——” Mary murmured.</p> + +<p>“Gerald will never love any one,” Christopher interrupted, +“not unless something changes him—trouble +or some great disaster. It’s quite hopeless, +Mary, and I know it. I have sealed the chamber down +tight, and here I am, as you see, very much as usual.”</p> + +<p>She pressed his arm.</p> + +<p>“Dear old Christopher!—You’ll find you’re in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>oak room at the end of the corridor, as usual. Howson, +Gerald’s servant, is down here doing nothing. He +will look after you. After dinner you must tell me +about the election. I am so interested, and so is dad, +when he can spare a moment from thinking about his +pheasants. He is certain to insist upon Myrtile’s reading +to him after dinner, and you and I will knock the +balls about in the billiard room.”</p> + +<p>Christopher would have been less than human if he +had not realised the pleasure of having a very charming +and attractive young woman, who was also his hostess, +keenly interested in the one subject which was just then +absorbing the whole of his time and attention. Mary +knew a great deal about politics, and her shrewd comments +were not only sympathetic but at times fairly +helpful. They were left undisturbed throughout the +whole of the evening in the billiard room, and Christopher +was surprised at the ease with which he forgot +that slim, frail figure with the haunting eyes and +tremulous smile, who had sat opposite him at dinner. +There is something about inevitability which sets its +mark upon all enterprise and sensation. He knew perfectly +well that Myrtile would never alter. She was as +far removed from him as though she had become a +beautiful picture or an exquisite piece of statuary. The +conviction itself had a certain soothing effect. No man +was ever known to sigh his heart out for the unattainable. +With the merest chance of some alteration in +her feelings, he would have been a persistent and unchanging +lover. There was no chance, and he knew it. +The disappointment was there, a dull pain in his heart +whenever he thought of certain chambers in the building +of that house of his future. But it was a pain of +the past, a pain from which frequent escape was at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>least possible. He found the coming of the footman +with whisky and soda that night unwelcome and surprising.</p> + +<p>“Eleven o’clock!” he exclaimed. “Why, what has +become of the evening?”</p> + +<p>“Flatterer!” she laughed. “Never mind, I was just +thinking the same myself. One game of billiards, and +then to bed. You’ll have a long day to-morrow, for +you’re walking in the morning, at any rate, and dad +always relies upon you to do the outsides.—Here’s +Myrtile come to wish us good night.”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you people played yet?” Myrtile enquired, +looking at the unused table in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” Christopher replied. “Lady Mary and +I have been talking politics.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>“Politics!” she sighed. “Lord Hinterleys has tried +to explain English politics to me, but I think that I +am stupid. I do not think that I have ever heard of +anything quite so dull.—Good night to you both. I +am going to bed.”</p> + +<p>She waved her hand and disappeared. Mary looked +after her thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes,” she said, “Myrtile presents herself to +one as a problem. I wonder whether it is really for +their happiness to transplant any one.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think that Myrtile is happy?” Christopher +asked.</p> + +<p>Mary shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No girl is really happy without love in her life,” +she declared. “You can realise for yourself how little +chance Myrtile has of ever being rewarded for her devotion.”</p> + +<p>He frowned.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>“Poor child!” he said. “But aren’t you a little +sweeping, Mary? There are lots of girls who seem to +get everything they want in life, and to be perfectly +happy without a man—without caring for any one +in particular, that is. Yourself, for instance?”</p> + +<p>Mary selected a cue with great care.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I am an exception,” she admitted. +“Come along, I’ll play you one fifty up before I go to +bed.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span>, worn out with long and comfortless travel, +pulled the long, iron bell outside the closed door of Elsa +Francks’ house in Sokar, with a sense of relief that the +first part of his quest was accomplished. The street +was one which formerly had been possessed of some +pretensions. The houses were tall, solidly built, and +had apparently been occupied by a wealthy class of +merchant. They were now mostly let out in tenements. +Exactly opposite where Gerald stood waiting, men and +women—shrunken-looking creatures, most of them—were +continually passing in and out of a broad entrance, +from which the gates had been done away with altogether, +with sacks or baskets of partly finished boots, +and the sound of fitful hammering seemed to denote a +factory devoid of machinery. In the centre of the road +were some rusty rails, around which some grass was +growing,—the remains of an electric car service. Most +of the houses seemed empty or over-full,—locked and +barred, with broken window frames and closed shutters, +or converted into tenement houses. The long street, +full of holes and strewn with all manner of refuse, ended +in a steep hill. Way beyond it, the so-called fortress, +a sinister, grey building of many stories, glittered in +the afternoon sun.</p> + +<p>The door in front of which Gerald was standing was +suddenly opened. A dark-visaged, corpulent woman, +dressed apparently in nothing but a petticoat and +shawl, thrust out her head. Gerald handed her a card, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>on which, through the friendly offices of the hotel porter, +was inscribed his desire to see Madame Francks. +The woman turned it over, looked Gerald up and down +with wide-mouthed astonishment, and finally motioned +him to enter. As soon as he had done so and stepped +into the little cobbled courtyard, she drew the bolt and +muttered something which he understood as an invitation +to follow her. She pushed open a heavy door on +the right, and they ascended a gloomy staircase. The +atmosphere was close, almost stifling. There seemed to +be no window, or any means of giving light or ventilation. +Arrived on the first floor, she threw open the +door of a room and departed, with a wholly incomprehensible +grunt. Outside, she began to shout, apparently +through the door of another apartment. There +was a vigorous duet, the other voice shriller but scarcely +more pleasant. Then there was silence, followed by +the sound of some one moving about in the adjoining +room.</p> + +<p>Gerald took a seat upon a couch, upholstered in +stained purple velvet, over which several soiled coverings +of imitation lace had been thrown. The room itself +was large and lofty, but scantily furnished. There was +a huge undecorated stove in one corner, which, notwithstanding +the heat of the day, already exuded fumes of +burning coke. The polished floor was innocent of any +rug or carpet, and covered with stains and fragments of +cigarettes and cigars. There was a piano, littered with +soiled and torn copies of music, in a distant corner, a +small gramophone with black enamel mouthpiece, blistered +by the continual heat of the room. The walls +were hung with the faded remains of some former attempt +at decoration. The windows were covered with a +sort of wire netting, which kept out alike light and air. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>There was everywhere an odour of stale tobacco smoke, +mingled with a strange smell of cheap incense or crude +perfume of some sort. Gerald, exceedingly sensitive to +surroundings, felt a momentary faintness as he sat and +waited for the woman whom he had come to visit. He +began to fidget in his place. He walked up and down. +He was even meditating an attack upon one of the window +fastenings, when he was aware of the sound of +heavy footsteps outside. The door was opened. A +woman entered and came towards him with an enquiring +expression upon her face.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Gerald that the newcomer alone was +needed to complete the squalour of his surroundings. +She was a big woman, coarsely built, and with indications +of obesity. She wore a dressing gown of some red +material, trimmed with soiled white fur and fastened +round her waist with a girdle. Her hair was a bright +yellow, abundant but badly arranged. It lay in loose +coils upon the top of her head, fastened with some flamboyant +ornament. Her features were not ill-shaped, +but were partly concealed under a thick coating of powder. +She had eyes of a peculiarly light blue shade, +large and saucer-like when she first entered the room, +but with a habit of narrowing at intervals. She spoke +in English, with a strong German accent.</p> + +<p>“You wish to see me, sir? I am Elsa Francks.”</p> + +<p>Gerald rose to his feet and bowed.</p> + +<p>“Madame,” he said, “I have found my way here +under the name of Harmon P. Cross. I have told every +one that I am an American, looking for an opportunity +to invest money. That story is not true. It is my +wish, if you will allow me, to be perfectly candid with +you?”</p> + +<p>“You can sit down,” she invited, regarding Gerald +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>with suspicion not unmixed with favour. “I will hear +what you have to say.”</p> + +<p>She threw herself in a lump at the far end of the +sofa, and pointed to a battered horsehair easy-chair.</p> + +<p>“Bring that to the side of me,” she continued. “I +do not hear very well and it is some time since I listened +to English. Tell me what you want?”</p> + +<p>“I have a further confession to make,” Gerald began. +“I am an Englishman.”</p> + +<p>“There are Englishmen and Englishmen,” she said +indulgently. “Some are different from others. You +are not like those whom our officers have had to correct +in the streets and cafés of Berlin. Now what is your +business, please?”</p> + +<p>“It is very difficult to state,” Gerald admitted +frankly, “and I am only emboldened to approach you +because in these difficult times, and in Russia especially, +one needs money. If you will do me a service, I can +find you a great deal of money.”</p> + +<p>Gerald’s methods had at any rate succeeded in exciting +the interest of the woman he had come to visit. Her +becarmined lips were parted; her pale eyes were filled +with the light of cupidity.</p> + +<p>“There is not much we would not do for money, nowadays, +over here,” she declared, laughing hardly. +“You are a very interesting man. Go on.”</p> + +<p>“Major Ivan Krossneys is a friend of yours,” Gerald +said.</p> + +<p>“Ho, ho!” the woman laughed. “So you dabble in +politics, eh? Never mind, Krossneys is my friend. +What of it?”</p> + +<p>“He is the Governor of the fortress here,” Gerald +went on. “He has a great number of prisoners under +his care.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>“One hundred and thirty-seven,” Elsa Francks replied +promptly. “I see some of them exercising when +I am at the fortress. What he keeps them alive for, I +cannot imagine. They crawl about the yard like lice. +What about these prisoners?”</p> + +<p>Gerald moved his chair a little nearer. The woman +smiled at him graciously.</p> + +<p>“If one of them should escape,” he remarked significantly, +“there would be a great deal of money.”</p> + +<p>“What do you call a great deal of money?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“I do not bargain,” Gerald replied. “I know very +well that the escape of a prisoner is a serious thing. I +have at my disposal the sum of ten thousand pounds.”</p> + +<p>The woman started so that she nearly rolled off the +sofa. She sat suddenly upright. She was too stupefied +for emotion.</p> + +<p>“Ten thousand pounds?” she almost shrieked. +“Why, it is two million roubles! Ivan Krossneys would +sell you his whole batch of prisoners for that, and throw +the fortress in! Why, if it rested with me,” she went +on, “you could have Krossneys as well, for a quarter of +that. Talk sense, please! There is not an Englishman +there. Of that I am certain.”</p> + +<p>“The prisoner whose liberty I desire to buy,” Gerald +confided, “is a Russian. I do not know under what +name he passes, but his number is twenty-nine.”</p> + +<p>Elsa Francks rose to her feet, opened the door and +shouted to her maid in Russian. Then she took up a +battered telephone instrument.</p> + +<p>“I will speak with the Major,” she said. “I am the +only civilian in the town with a telephone. It is a +great favour. You can wait whilst I speak with him.”</p> + +<p>There was a good deal of delay before she was connected, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>and a further delay before the person with whom +she desired to speak arrived. In time, however, the +conversation was finished, apparently to her satisfaction. +She set down the instrument.</p> + +<p>“The Governor is on his way down,” she announced +triumphantly. “Come, we will see to this little affair +quickly. You can remain.”</p> + +<p>The maid entered the room, carrying a tray on which +were bottles of beer and glasses. The woman eyed them +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“You are not Russian,” she said, “so I do not offer +you the samovar. Beer every one drinks—the English +especially. That is so, is it not?”</p> + +<p>“That is so,” Gerald admitted. “I shall drink to +your good health, Madame.”</p> + +<p>“You may call me Elsa,” she invited graciously, coming +over to his side with a glass in her hand. “We will +drink to the success of our enterprise.”</p> + +<p>Gerald accepted the glass and exchanged courteous +amenities with his hostess. She eyed him with growing +favour.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity that you are not staying longer,” +she observed. “We might become friends. Who +knows?”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” Gerald replied gallantly, “I might +have to quarrel with Major Krossneys, and that would +not do at all.”</p> + +<p>She snapped her pudgy fingers. A man who had ten +thousand pounds to dispose of! What was Krossneys!</p> + +<p>“Do you think,” she scoffed, “that I shall stay here +with him if I can get hold of half that sum you spoke +of? Not I! I shall choose a different companion. I +shall go to Monte Carlo. I shall never enter this accursed +country again. Even to think of leaving it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>makes me giddy with happiness. It will be you who +will be my deliverer. Let us drink again together.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” Gerald suggested, “the Governor will +not give up his prisoner.”</p> + +<p>Her exclamation of contempt was almost a shout. +The very idea, while she scouted it as ridiculous, seemed +to infuriate her.</p> + +<p>“Give him up? Of course he will give him up!” she +declared. “If he refused—why, I would take him by +the beard—I would kill him!”</p> + +<p>Her eyes were lit with cruelty. The snarl of an animal +of prey twisted her lips. Then she burst into a fit +of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Why do I make myself furious?” she exclaimed. +“Why, Ivan would sell every one of his hundred and +thirty-seven prisoners for a tenth part of the money +you speak of! Come, let us be gay. I will put something +on the gramophone. You shall dance with me, +yes?”</p> + +<p>“What about His Excellency the Governor?” Gerald +asked.</p> + +<p>The woman made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>“You are perhaps right,” she acquiesced. “One +must wait—wait until everything is arranged. After +that I shall snap my fingers at Ivan. He wearies me, +and he is an old man. Will you take me out of the +country, my friend? We might go into Poland—I +have friends at Warsaw.”</p> + +<p>There were heavy steps outside. She held up her +hand as though to warn him.</p> + +<p>“It is the Governor,” she announced. “It is Ivan +Krossneys who arrives. Mind, he is very jealous. Be +careful.”</p> + +<p>Gerald, with all his nerves on edge, was yet able to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>indulge for a moment in a grim smile. The door was +opened. The maid poked her head in and muttered +something unintelligible. Close behind her entered the +Governor of the fortress.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Governor was a large, corpulent, untidy-looking +man in an ill-fitting uniform, with coarse features and a +straggling beard. He clicked his heels together and +made some pretence at a military salute, as Elsa introduced +her visitor. She whispered a word or two apart +with him in Russian, and then continued in French, +which she spoke apparently with less ease than English.</p> + +<p>“This gentleman,” she declared, “has a great affair +of business to discuss with you. He was sent here by a +friend of mine whose name I may not give. He is an +Englishman pretending to be an American, but that +makes for little. He is entrusted with a great sum of +money for a certain purpose.”</p> + +<p>Into the Governor’s eyes flashed for a moment some +reflection of the cupidity which had gleamed in the +woman’s. Money was scarce in Russia; pay was small +and irregular in coming. The thought of money whetted +his interest.</p> + +<p>“Let me hear what this gentleman has to say,” he +invited.</p> + +<p>“I have come with a very bold proposition,” Gerald +began, “but it is one which I hope you will consider +carefully. You have many prisoners in your fortress +who are detained largely through misfortune. There +are many there whose offences are trivial, who will probably +be released shortly in any case, and who might just +as well be free as remain a charge upon the Government.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>“You seem to know a great deal about my prisoners,” +the Governor remarked ungraciously. “Many +of them are criminals of the worst order.”</p> + +<p>“It is not one of these whom I wish to discuss with +you,” Gerald assured him. “It happens that you have +a young man there who is not of the criminal class at +all. He has very wealthy friends.”</p> + +<p>“Ha!” the Governor exclaimed. “How wealthy?”</p> + +<p>The woman broke into the conversation. She gripped +her friend by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Ivan,” she cried, “it is incredible! Do you know +the sum which monsieur speaks of? It takes one’s +breath away! He speaks of ten thousand pounds! +It is two million roubles! What do you think of +that?”</p> + +<p>“Holy mother of God!” Krossneys muttered. “A +prisoner of mine?”</p> + +<p>“A prisoner of yours,” Gerald repeated. “I will be +quite frank with you, sir. I speak, I know, to a man of +honour, but I will ask you to remember that this young +man is unconvicted of any crime, and that the Government +by whom he was sent to you is tottering. This is +not a bribe which I am offering you. It is the price of +an act of justice. The money is to be paid in cash.”</p> + +<p>Krossneys was showing now as much agitation as the +woman had displayed. Mingled with his emotion, however, +was a fear, signs of which were at once manifested +in the anxiety which distorted his face, the eagerness of +his demand.</p> + +<p>“The number?” he cried. “Tell me the name or the +number of the prisoner you desire?”</p> + +<p>“Number twenty-nine,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>The Governor struck the table with his clenched fist, +so that the glasses rattled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>“A million devils curse and blast you both!” he +shouted.</p> + +<p>He kicked a footstool which was close at hand across +the room. Then he flung himself into an easy-chair and +sat there with his arms crossed, glowering at Elsa. The +woman gazed at him as though he had suddenly gone +mad.</p> + +<p>“Are you out of your senses, Ivan?” she asked. +“Twenty-nine or thirty-nine—what does it matter? +Is not one prisoner like another? Who comes to +visit them? Who knows which cell is empty? +Bah!”</p> + +<p>“So you thought you were rich for life, did you, +Elsa?” the man in the chair muttered. “Well, you +can just rid yourself of the idea. And as for you, sir,” +he went on, with a malicious glance at Gerald, “you +may think yourself fortunate if you leave this country +as easily as you entered it.”</p> + +<p>The woman drew a little nearer to him. There was +the look of a wild animal in her face.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Ivan!” she cried. “Are you mad? It is a +fortune which this man carries in his hand! What is +there amongst the scum that infests your prisons of account +against that? You terrify me. The money is +for us, to be divided. Cash, Ivan! Money to spend—to-morrow—the +next day—every day!”</p> + +<p>“You fool!” the Governor retorted. “Of what use +is money when your feet dangle in the air and your neck +is broken? That for you, and a dozen rifle bullets in +my heart! You are a bold man who came to Russia on +such a mission,” he added, glowering at Gerald.</p> + +<p>She turned to her visitor.</p> + +<p>“What does this madman mean?” she demanded. +“Who is this prisoner whose freedom you seek?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>“I do not know,” Gerald replied. “I am only an +emissary.”</p> + +<p>The Governor sat up in his chair.</p> + +<p>“I will tell you,” he declared hoarsely. “Number +twenty-nine is all the fortress records say of him, but +his name is Paul, Grand Duke of Volostok, Prince of +Tamboff, hereditary Grand Duke and Ruler of all the +provinces of the Dvina, nephew of Nicholas, the late +Tsar, head of the House of Romanoff,—himself, if the +people changed their fancy to-morrow, Tsar of all the +Russias! There, my woman, now you know the secret +of my fortress! You can guess where we might be if I +traded with this lunatic!”</p> + +<p>The woman flopped upon the sofa. She was pale +through all her rouge and powder. Her yellow hair +had broken loose from its band of ribbon. Her dressing +gown had fallen away a little from her ample +bust. She sat breathing heavily for several moments. +Gerald, of the three, was the only one who kept his +head.</p> + +<p>“All that makes for nothing,” he said calmly. “You +excite yourself greatly for nothing. The Romanoff +dynasty is past. There will never be another Tsar in +Russia. This young man has rich friends and they +want him out of the country. I should think your Government +would be glad to be rid of him.”</p> + +<p>Gerald’s words were not without their effect, especially +upon the woman.</p> + +<p>“After all,” she muttered, “this man speaks sense. +Who cares about Grand Dukes, nowadays? There are +plenty of them who have already escaped. What does +one more or less matter?”</p> + +<p>“But this one—I have told you who he is!” the +man growled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>The woman was beginning to pluck up spirit. She +scoffed at him openly.</p> + +<p>“When the people of Russia want the days of Tsardom +back again,” she said, “they will find one of the +brood fast enough. But that day will not come yet. +This young man in your fortress is of no account. You +are a fool, Ivan. You cannot see the truth. You have +not thought to yourself what ten thousand pounds may +mean.”</p> + +<p>Krossneys sat back in his chair, biting his finger nails.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” he demanded suddenly. “And +where does this money come from?”</p> + +<p>“My name is Dombey,” Gerald replied. “I have +admitted to Madame Francks that I am an Englishman. +This money has been collected in London by friends and +relatives of the young man. The desire for his release +has not the slightest political significance.”</p> + +<p>“And what the devil excuse can I make for letting him +go?”</p> + +<p>“I should put one of your less important prisoners +into his cell and say nothing about it,” Gerald suggested.</p> + +<p>“There is an inspector of State prisons,” Krossneys +muttered. “He does not often come, but who knows +when he might take it into his head to pay us a visit?”</p> + +<p>“The last time he was here,” Elsa Francks reminded +him, “you met him at the station and took him to the +hotel. Afterwards, you brought him on here and he +was so drunk that he had to stay for two days. He did +not even go near the fortress. Your papers and books +were brought down here for him to sign.”</p> + +<p>“It is true,” Krossneys assented, “yet next time another +man might come. And again, how will this number +twenty-nine get safely out of Russia?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>“Think less of these difficulties and more of what one +could do with ten thousand pounds,” the woman insisted. +“You are not asked, Ivan, to run a risk for +nothing. I say that it is worth it.”</p> + +<p>“For you, yes,” Krossneys sneered, “because you +risk nothing and you have the spending of the money. +For me it is different. I have an official position. I +am Governor of the fortress; I wear the uniform of the +Russian Republic.”</p> + +<p>Elsa Francks laughed loudly and scornfully. She +pointed jeeringly at Krossneys.</p> + +<p>“Uniform of the Russian Republic!” she exclaimed. +“A pity they didn’t make it to fit you! Official position, +indeed! What do you get out of it, I should like +to know? Would you not starve if it were not for the +contributions of the prisoners themselves?”</p> + +<p>“It is true,” Krossneys assented gloomily. “It is a +dog’s life.”</p> + +<p>“And a dog’s country to live it in!” the woman proclaimed. +“Listen to me, Ivan.”</p> + +<p>She sat upon the arm of his chair and talked to him +in Russian. Soon it was evident that he was yielding. +She fetched him beer and then spirits of some sort from +a cupboard. Once or twice she turned and winked +stealthily at Gerald. At last she turned towards him +in triumph.</p> + +<p>“It is arranged,” she announced.</p> + +<p>“Not so fast,” Krossneys intervened. “Let us hear +how this money is to be paid?”</p> + +<p>“In cash,” Gerald replied. “I have drafts upon +your own banks.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” Krossneys muttered, “the money is +right enough, then. At ten o’clock to-morrow morning,” +he went on, “present yourself at the fortress. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>Enquire for me. I shall give you an audience. The +affair may be concluded at once. Get back to your +hotel now and be careful not to speak of your real +business.”</p> + +<p>Gerald rose blithely to his feet. The idea of leaving +the horrible atmosphere of that room was undiluted joy +to him. He bowed to the Governor. Elsa took him to +the door and, under pretext of calling the servant, +passed out with him into the passage.</p> + +<p>“You can come back later if you like to talk with me +again,” she whispered. “Be careful, though, for he is +very jealous.”</p> + +<p>She shouted something to the Russian maid and +stepped back into the room with a meaning smile. Gerald +put money into the hand of the woman who opened +the postern gate and stepped into the street with a gasp +of relief. The clear air was wonderful. He drew in +great gulps of it as he made his way along the uneven +pavements, stared at by every passer-by. He could +scarcely believe that his task was coming so easily to an +end. If all went well, in twenty-four hours he might be +on his way back to England.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span>, after a weary climb out of the town, stood +at last, at the appointed hour on the following morning, +before the rusty iron gates of the fortress. Untidy and +neglected though the whole place seemed, there was still +something sinister about the various crude precautions +against the escape of a prisoner. For a quarter of a +mile, on the outside of the walls, not in themselves formidable, +everything in the shape of trees, shrubs or +dwellings had been razed to the ground, and every fifty +paces around the walls, on the top of a buttress, was +mounted a machine gun, from which an iron ladder led +to the ground. The walls themselves were about eight +feet high, of stone covered with white plaster. The +fortress itself was built of a kind of grey-coloured brick, +a square, solid building, with a curiously unexpected +pointed top. The barred windows were no more than +slits. The space of open ground by which the main +building was surrounded was inches deep in dust.</p> + +<p>A porter in stained and ill-fitting uniform admitted +Gerald to the building, escorted him across the yard, +and passed him on to a duplicate of himself, to whom +Gerald once more presented the card which had obtained +him admittance. He was led down a stone passage, +which had apparently neither been cleaned nor swept +for months, into a lofty but bare apartment at the +farther end. Krossneys, who was sitting before a +wooden table, apparently expecting him, dismissed the +attendant and motioned Gerald to sit down. He looked +at his visitor in unfriendly fashion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>“Why did you not come to me direct instead of going +to Elsa Francks?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Gerald was not unprepared for the question.</p> + +<p>“I knew your reputation as a soldier and a man of +honour,” he replied. “I feared that unless this matter +was put to you in the proper light, tactfully, as a +woman can put it, you would have nothing to say +to me.”</p> + +<p>The Governor grunted.</p> + +<p>“It was a mistake,” he declared sourly. “The +woman is greedy. She will demand her full share of the +money. It is scarcely justice.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” Gerald said. “I acted as I was advised.”</p> + +<p>“Supposing I accede,” Krossneys went on, after a +short pause, “how do you propose to get Number +Twenty-nine out of the country?”</p> + +<p>“I was hoping,” Gerald admitted, “that you might +have been able to help with some suggestion.”</p> + +<p>The Governor stroked his beard.</p> + +<p>“Suggestions,” he muttered, “are worth money.”</p> + +<p>Gerald acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“I have not command of much more than the amount +I spoke of,” he said, “but if you can show me how to +get our friend safely out of the country, I will add a +thousand pounds to your share.”</p> + +<p>“Which sum,” the Governor insisted quickly, “will +not be mentioned to Elsa Francks and will belong to me +alone.”</p> + +<p>“Agreed,” Gerald acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“Show me your papers,” the Governor demanded.</p> + +<p>Gerald produced them without hesitation,—his passport, +an urgent letter of recommendation by the one +statesman who was in good odour in both countries, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>banker’s drafts, which needed only his signature to produce +a never-ending flow of cash. The Governor’s eyes +glittered as he turned them over in his hand. It was +horrible that a share of these treasures must go to the +woman! She was well enough under his thumb, the +slave of his command, but with money in her pocket—they +were neither of them in their first youth, but, so +far as looks went, in his eyes she still had charm—if +she were independent of him, all sorts of things might +happen. He threw down the documents with a little +oath. The passport, however, he kept in his hand. +His manner, as he looked at Gerald, changed. He became +almost servile.</p> + +<p>“You, too, are an aristocrat, then,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>“I am of the English aristocracy,” Gerald admitted. +“I have another passport in my pocket, which proclaims +me an American citizen.”</p> + +<p>The Governor nodded. He pushed a box of black +cigars across to his visitor. The latter contented himself, +however, with accepting a cigarette. Then he +touched a bell. The attendant brought in beer, which +was poured into two glasses. As soon as they were +alone, Krossneys motioned Gerald to draw his chair +close to the desk.</p> + +<p>“Now here is my scheme,” he said. “Number Twenty-nine +is of your height and build. You shall see him +for yourself and judge. Number One Hundred and One, +also a young man, died yesterday afternoon of malarial +fever. His death has not yet been officially reported. +Very good! I take you to the cell of Number Twenty-nine. +You exchange clothes with him. You give him +your American passport. You go in with me to his +cell. He comes out with me. You remain.”</p> + +<p>“The devil I do!” Gerald muttered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>“Do not be a fool!” the Governor exclaimed impatiently. +“I beg your pardon, Excellency,” he added a +moment later, as he remembered his visitor’s identity. +“Your stay there will not be long. I shall explain in a +moment. I drive Number Twenty-nine to a small station +on the line, eleven miles off. I take leave of him +there. He is an American who has bought my oil concessions. +The station is in the middle of the district. +My presence with him will remove all suspicions and prevent +their examining the passport too closely. He will +travel through to Petrograd. There, I take it, you +have made arrangements.”</p> + +<p>“I have a ship waiting,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>“That is my scheme, then.”</p> + +<p>“So far, I approve of it,” Gerald declared, “but +what about me?”</p> + +<p>“You will bore yourself for twenty-four hours,” the +Governor replied. “I will see, though, that you have +beer and newspapers. If you will, Elsa can come and +see you.”</p> + +<p>“For heaven’s sake, no!” Gerald begged. “I +mean,” he added hastily, “I shall need no society. I +am very tired. I shall sleep.”</p> + +<p>“As you will,” the Governor acquiesced. “In the +morning, Number One Hundred and One—I should say +his remains—will be carried secretly down to your cell. +You will be moved up to the cell of Number One Hundred +and One. I shall at once report the death of +Number Twenty-nine. He will be buried in the cemetery +here before intervention is possible. Now the question +comes how to dispose of you.”</p> + +<p>“I was getting interested in that myself,” Gerald +admitted.</p> + +<p>“Number One Hundred and One’s time was up,” the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>Governor explained. “He could have gone home last +week if he had been strong enough. I have his papers +of release here, signed by myself. To-morrow morning +early, I shall provide you with suitable clothing, and I +shall drive you to the railway station. I myself have +leave of absence in my pocket, granted to me a fortnight +ago, but, to be honest with you, I have not used it because +I have had no money with which to enjoy myself. +I shall travel with you myself to Petrograd. You will +have acted as my clerk in the prison, and I take some +interest in you. In my company you are absolutely +secure. No one will venture even a question. Arrived +at Petrograd, I will drive with you to the docks, you +shall take me on board your ship, and we will drink a +bottle of champagne together.—What do you think of +my plan?”</p> + +<p>“Capital!” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>“I will conduct you now,” the Governor announced, +“to Number Twenty-nine. We will lock ourselves in his +cell. You shall explain the scheme to him and change +clothes. I will bring pen and ink with me, also the +deeds which will put Harmon P. Cross in possession of +my oil properties. You shall pay over the drafts. +After that you must be patient.”</p> + +<p>“I am ready,” Gerald declared, rising to his feet.</p> + +<p>Krossneys unlocked a drawer and took out a bunch +of keys which shone like silver,—the only clean thing, +it seemed to Gerald, that he had seen in the prison. +They tramped up two flights of stone steps.</p> + +<p>“I am a humane man,” the Governor said, “and it +does not please me to turn my prisoners into vermin. +I have cells underground, without light or air, which +were used by my predecessors. I have had them blocked +up. You will find it not so terrible here.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>They had reached a long, whitewashed passage with +arched roof. The Governor dismissed the attendant +who had followed them, inserted the key into the lock +of the door over which “29” was painted in black letters, +and entered himself, motioning Gerald to follow +him.</p> + +<p>In the sudden sombre twilight of the cell, Gerald’s +first impressions were that a man opposite had hanged +himself against the wall. At their entrance, however, +the figure dropped to the ground, releasing his clutch of +the rusty bars to which he had been clinging. A tall, +thin young man, with sunken cheeks, long, unkempt hair, +and eyes a little more than ordinarily bright, stood +gazing at them. His clothes seemed to be the remains +of a prison uniform. The trousers, always too short, +had worn away at the bottom of the legs, and he +wore neither socks nor shoes. He stared at the two +men—at Gerald especially—in wonder, but remained +silent.</p> + +<p>“You speak English?” Gerald enquired.</p> + +<p>Number Twenty-nine shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I speak French better,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“What were you doing when we came in?” the Governor +asked.</p> + +<p>Number Twenty-nine smiled wanly.</p> + +<p>“For an hour every day,” he told them, “sometimes +for more, I spring till I catch those bars, and I hang on +until I am tired. I can always see the sky; sometimes, +if I am feeling strong, I can lift myself so that I see a +little of the country.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you have something better to do now,” the +Governor declared. “You were a man when you were +brought in. I have seen you play a man’s part. Remember, +if you faint or do anything foolish, you spoil +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>everything. Set your teeth and take off your clothes. +You are going to be set at liberty.”</p> + +<p>Number Twenty-nine scarcely faltered.</p> + +<p>“I am to be shot, I suppose,” he said coolly. “I +trust that your warders are better marksmen than they +are soldiers.”</p> + +<p>“There is a long story,” Gerald intervened, “of +which the Governor will tell you as much as he chooses. +I am an Englishman, sent here by relatives of yours. I +have been able to arrange for your freedom. In a few +days’ time, you will be steaming for England.”</p> + +<p>“Cut it short,” the Governor interrupted. “I will +do all the explaining.”</p> + +<p>Gerald took a letter from his pocketbook.</p> + +<p>“Read that letter,” he invited. “It is from Pauline. +She is my friend. I am Lord Dombey, an Englishman. +We shall meet at Petrograd later. On the steamer I +will explain everything. Meanwhile, take off your +clothes. You will have to wear mine for a couple of +days.”</p> + +<p>The young man took off his coat almost mechanically. +His shirt was ragged. He had apparently no +underclothes. His fingers began to shake.</p> + +<p>“I cannot,” he faltered.</p> + +<p>“But it is necessary,” Gerald assured him. “See, I +am half undressed myself.”</p> + +<p>He took off his coat and waistcoat. At the sight of +his silk underclothes, the other man began suddenly to +sob.</p> + +<p>“I—I have had no water here for a fortnight,” he +groaned.</p> + +<p>Gerald looked him in the eyes.</p> + +<p>“We’ve done campaigning, both of us,” he said. “I +read of you when you led your regiment into Germany. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>I was in a trench myself for five days at a stretch. +Those things don’t really matter. Five days was quite +long enough there in the mud. We didn’t worry about +soap then. Get on with it, please.”</p> + +<p>Number Twenty-nine closed his eyes as he shed his +last garments. Then he drew on Gerald’s. Presently +the Governor laughed.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word,” he declared, “it is better than I +thought. I have ordered the barber into the next cell. +He is a prisoner himself, so there is not much chance of +his blabbing. Come along. We will be back in five +minutes,” he added, turning to Gerald. “In time to +take your orders for lunch, eh? Give you time to settle +down.”</p> + +<p>They passed out. Gerald felt a queer sense of loneliness +as the door closed behind him. He looked around +him half fearfully. Everything was worse than he had +feared. The floor was of concrete, and there was not a +single article of furniture of any description in the room +except a straw mattress already full of holes. The floor +had apparently not been swept for weeks. While he +sat there, however, there was the click of a key in the +door and a burly Russian entered. Without a word he +commenced some effort at cleansing the place. When +he had finished, he threw in a rug and disappeared. +Gerald breathed a little more freely. Then he heard +footsteps outside again. The Governor and Number +Twenty-nine entered, the latter curiously changed in appearance.</p> + +<p>“By all the Saints,” the Governor chuckled, “I never +realised that the barber was so wonderful a person! +This little scheme of mine marches well. Now, then, for +your share.”</p> + +<p>He handed a fountain pen to Gerald, who endorsed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>the drafts he had brought, wrote out a further cheque +for a thousand pounds, and handed them, together with +his American passport, to Krossneys. The latter +thrust a document into Number Twenty-nine’s pocket.</p> + +<p>“You may not know it,” he said, “but you are now +the owner of five hundred acres of forest where oil may +some day be found.”</p> + +<p>He roared with laughter. Neither of the young men +moved a muscle.</p> + +<p>“Now, listen, both of you,” he went on, “the only +automobile in the town awaits me outside. We depart +in a minute. Say your farewells, you two. At one +o’clock to-morrow morning,” he concluded, turning to +Gerald, “you will be moved into cell ‘101,’ and later +you will go to attend your own funeral. From now +until one or perhaps half-past one to-morrow morning, +you will have to make the best of it. I will come and +superintend your removal myself and let you know that +all is well.”</p> + +<p>“I shall try to sleep until then,” Gerald announced. +“I am very tired.”</p> + +<p>“You shall have a little meal in my office in the intervals +of being changed,” the Governor promised him. +“I shall lock the door and no one will know.—Now, +Mr. Harmon P. Cross, please, American speculator who +has bought my oil fields, come with me. I am going to +drive you to the train.”</p> + +<p>Number Twenty-nine held out both his hands to his +deliverer. There was a simple dignity in his few words.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he said, “I know nothing of you, but my life +will not be long enough for me to express my gratitude. +The day after to-morrow——”</p> + +<p>“The day after to-morrow there will be much for us +to talk about,” Gerald interrupted. “What I have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>done, I have done joyfully. So far, it has been much +easier than I expected.”</p> + +<p>The Governor and his charge took their leave. The +door closed behind them. Gerald heard their footsteps +die away on the paved floor. He threw himself down on +the mattress and tried to sleep. It was an impossible +task but there was plenty to think about.—At one +o’clock the same burly Russian entered, bearing a bowl +of something which was half stew, half soup. Gerald +smelt it, looked at it, and set it in a distant corner of +the room. Then he walked back and forth, counting +how many paces it took him from wall to wall. Presently, +with a throb of joy, he remembered his cigarette +case. He smoked two cigarettes. Afterwards, he +dozed for a little time. Towards evening, he amused +himself trying to make his predecessor’s daily jump. +It was not until the seventh attempt that he succeeded, +and then the rust of the bars cut so deeply into his +palms that he let go almost at once. At eight o’clock, +the Russian appeared again with a bowl of soup similar +to the last. Gerald waved it away.</p> + +<p>“Not hungry?” the man asked in German.</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head. Somehow or other, it was a +relief to find that he was not shut out altogether from +communication with the outside world.</p> + +<p>“You speak German, eh?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Few words.”</p> + +<p>“Bring me something better to eat,” Gerald begged. +“Can’t I have some beer?”</p> + +<p>The man held out his hand and Gerald filled it with +silver. He disappeared and returned presently with +two bottles of beer concealed in his baggy trousers, and +a loaf of bread.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>“Not understand this,” he said, shaking his head. +“Where Number Twenty-nine gone?”</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Better ask no questions until the Governor comes +back,” he enjoined.</p> + +<p>“No fear talk,” the man declared with a laugh. +“Governor given me twenty marks. If talk, I get +twenty lashes instead. Good night!”</p> + +<p>He departed finally, closing and locking the door behind +him. Gerald ate some bread hungrily and drank +the beer. Then for a time he dozed. When he woke +up and looked at his watch, it was twelve o’clock. Very +soon he would begin to expect the Governor. He sat +up on the mattress with his back to the wall. Between +twelve and one o’clock he looked at his watch twenty +times. One o’clock came and passed; half-past one. +Then he rose to his feet and began pacing the cell restlessly. +Two o’clock came; half-past. He held his +watch in his hand now, to save himself the continual +dragging it out from his pocket. Every few minutes +he stopped to listen. The great fortress apparently +slept. There was no sound anywhere. Only time went +on. Three o’clock arrived and passed—four!—five! +Presently streaks of daylight began to appear. At six +o’clock at last there were footsteps outside. The warder +entered once more. This time he carried a jug of hot +liquid.</p> + +<p>“Tea,” he announced, “from kitchen. Give me +something.”</p> + +<p>Gerald gave him more silver. The tea was the colour +of straw and water, but the faint smell of it was refreshing.</p> + +<p>“Where is the Governor?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The warder shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>“Not ask questions,” he begged. “Governor not +here.”</p> + +<p>Gerald pulled himself together and dismissed the man. +He drank the tea slowly. Once more he sat down on +the mattress. The room now was a little lighter. He +could see as far as the opposite wall. He sat down and +waited. Every nerve in his body seemed tingling. He +tried to keep his mind off the subject of what could have +happened to detain the Governor, to turn his thoughts +back to England.—He suddenly found himself by the +roadside, watching the mending of the puncture, looking +impatiently along the white ribbon of road which led to +Cannes, and, beyond, to Monte Carlo, where the lights +were burning and the violins were playing their pagan +overture. He saw Myrtile’s pale, terrified face gleaming +out against the background of the cypress trees, +heard her pathetic story throbbing in the pine-sweetened +stillness. He remembered their drive. All those things +seemed part of another world. He remembered those +few furious moments when Christopher had taken her +from his arms. A faint feeling of shame crept over him +as he sat there, huddled up. Then, with a rush, came +the memory which swept everything else out of his mind. +He saw Pauline, felt the disturbance of her presence, +remembered the slow ebbing away of her pride, her first +few kind words, the half-spoken promise. What was +there about her, he wondered vaguely, which had +brought him, with all his experience, so completely to +her feet? She had shown him no kindness. She had +not even been gracious. He had read dislike in her eyes +more often than any other feeling. There remained, +too, the pitiless truth that all the favours he had won +from her he had bought, indirectly if not directly. Yet +there she was, ruling over his life, the one sweet, dominant +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>figure, for whose sake he sat in these miserable +clothes, a forgotten figure,—perhaps, even, in danger.—He +took out his watch with trembling fingers. It +was ten o’clock. His thoughts mocked him now. He +could find no escape by means of them. He could think +of nothing but the present. Something had gone wrong +with their plans. What would it mean for him? Not +a soul in the world knew where he was. If he had a +name at all here, it was the name of the man whom the +people of Russia had once threatened to tear limb from +limb.</p> + +<p>At last there came a little stir, an unaccustomed +sound of voices. Presently he heard footsteps outside, +the key turned in the lock. His heart turned sick with +disappointment—it was the warder alone! Gerald +dug his hand once more into his pocket. This time he +brought out a note. For some reason or other he was +terrified. Even the stolid features of his visitor seemed +disturbed.</p> + +<p>“Where is the Governor?” Gerald demanded. “See, +there is this note if you will go and fetch him.”</p> + +<p>The man returned to the door and shook it to be sure +that it was fastened. Then he came back to Gerald.</p> + +<p>“A strange thing has happened,” he said. “There +is a German woman in the town. Last night the Governor +spent at her house. They were both drunk. +They quarrelled. Elsa killed him. The Governor is +dead.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> telegram was brought in to Lady Mary as she +sat alone in her little sitting room, in the hours between +tea and the dressing bell,—hours which, so far as possible, +especially during the last few months, she tried to +keep to herself. It had been handed in at a branch +office in the north of London and contained the news +for which she had been waiting:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>Elected majority two thousand heartiest thanks for +good wishes.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Christopher.</span></p> +</div></div> + +<p>Her first impulse was one of genuine pleasure. She +started to her feet, meaning to take it to her father, +who was with Myrtile in the library. Then she stopped +short and slowly resumed her seat. That little orange-coloured +form might have meant so much more, so much +food for her ambitions, her natural and proper ambitions +for the man she loved. It might have been such a +pledge for the interest of their life together, such a wonderful +life, brimful of movement and colour in which she, +too, might well hope to take a part. In her quiet way, +she had for years looked upon her marriage with Christopher, +sooner or later, as a certainty. Without the +slightest desire in any way to mislead her, Christopher +had subconsciously encouraged the idea. She knew perfectly +well that, as soon as his position was a little more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>assured, he had intended to ask her to be his wife. It +was one of those pleasant yet wonderful arrangements +which seemed to develop automatically. Christopher +was well-born, his friends were her friends, his disposition +accorded with hers. She could never have married +an idle man. Christopher had many a worthy ambition. +She was precisely the wife to further them. Her money +and her social influence would save him years of fruitless +labour. He could leave the Bar whenever he liked, and +turn his whole attention to politics.—And now the +dream had crumbled. This slip of paper was nothing +but a friendly message, telling her of the success of a +friend with whose career she had no intimate concern. +Her disposition was too kindly not to feel a certain +amount of pleasure at his success, but that very pleasure +brought its shadow of personal grief. She sat looking +into the fire, twisting the little slip of paper in her +hands. She knew very well that she was cursed with +that one terrible and self-mortifying virtue, the unalterable +fidelity of the woman who permits in her mind the +thought of one man only and who can never replace him. +The very thought of marriage with any one but Christopher +was revolting. It seemed to her, as she sat +there, that she was doomed to a career of lovelessness +and inutility. She might labour in good works till her +hair was streaked with grey and her face lined, and she +knew very well the fruitlessness of all that she would +accomplish. The best work of a woman, as she well +knew, is the work done for the man she loves.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps natural that her thoughts should turn +to Myrtile. She wondered for a moment, slowly and +painfully, at the instinct which had warned her of coming +trouble when the two young men had told her of +their adventure. She had felt it when first she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>seen the frightened child, whose unspoken appeal for +protection had met with so cold a response from her. +She had been conscious of a cruelty wholly foreign to +her nature, in those days at Monte Carlo, whenever the +name of Myrtile was mentioned. She had puzzled Christopher +and her brother alike by her lack of sympathy. +Well, she was punished now. The child had justified all +that she had felt. She had robbed her, unconsciously +and unwillingly, of the greatest thing in life. As she +sat there, the telegram crumpled up in her fingers, all +that old hardness came back to her. It seemed to her +a bitter thing that this unknown child should have been +brought into the august household in which her own serene +days had been spent, to rob her, the benefactress, +of the crown of her life, to draw the sunshine from her +days and send her down to a joyless grave. For a moment +she was on the verge of a passion. She hated +Myrtile, hated the sight of her gentle movements, the +thought of her and all to do with her. She rose to her +feet with an unaccustomed fire in her eyes and swung +round—to find that the slight noise which had disturbed +her meditations had been caused by the entrance +of Myrtile herself.</p> + +<p>There are moments when revelation is self-illuminative. +This was one of them. Myrtile, gazing almost in +terror into the face of her benefactress, knew that she +was hated, and, with an extraordinary insight, she knew +why. She saw the crumpled up telegraph form; she +guessed at everything which had lain unspoken between +them. She closed the door firmly behind her, came +across to Lady Mary’s chair, fell on her knees and +struggled with her sobs.</p> + +<p>“I know! I know!” she cried. “I am very miserable!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>Mary looked at her coldly and critically. All the +natural impulses of her heart seemed dried up. Even +her pride refused to come to her aid. The truth lay +naked between the two.</p> + +<p>“I was a fool not to realise what bringing you here +meant,” she said. “It is too late now. Here is the +telegram. Christopher is elected.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile brushed it away. It was a thing of no account.</p> + +<p>“I care nothing for Christopher and you know it,” +she declared passionately. “I do not care whether he +is elected or not. Nothing about him makes any difference +to me, or ever will.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile was speaking the truth. To Mary it seemed +amazing, but she knew that it was the truth.</p> + +<p>“It is only a fancy which Christopher has for me,” +Myrtile went on. “It will pass—oh, I am sure that it +will pass! Deep down in his heart I know that there is +another feeling.”</p> + +<p>“There was,” Mary agreed. “But for your coming, +he would have known it himself before now.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile shook with the pain of it.</p> + +<p>“But for my coming!” she repeated. “And I have +prayed that I might bring a little happiness to you who +have been so good to me!”</p> + +<p>Her anguish was apparent. There was something almost +unearthly in the sorrow which shone out of her +eyes. Mary’s heart began to fail her. Her fingers +rested on the top of the other girl’s head. A gleam of +coming kindness shone mistily in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t your fault,” she said.</p> + +<p>“It is my fault that I am alive!” Myrtile moaned. +“But listen, please. I have my plans. I am going +away.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>“What good would that do?” Mary asked doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“It would do great good,” Myrtile declared. “I +shall remove myself altogether. Christopher’s fancy +will pass. And besides—I must go.”</p> + +<p>“My father would never spare you,” Mary said, +ashamed of the joy with which the thought filled her.</p> + +<p>“I have thought of everything,” Myrtile insisted. +“Lord Hinterleys has been very kind to me, but he will +forget. If he chooses to see me sometimes, it will be +possible. Let me tell you, please. I have a plan. +Only yesterday I heard from the curé. He is back +again in the valley. He is at the church there now. +He says, if I need ever to go back, I can teach at the +school. All my people have gone away many, many +miles. My stepfather has a larger farm. I shall go +back. I should never have come away.”</p> + +<p>Mary looked at her searchingly. All the suffering in +the world seemed to be quivering in Myrtile’s sensitive +face. She leaned a little forward towards the kneeling +girl.</p> + +<p>“Myrtile,” she whispered, “there is pain in your +heart, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, God knows it!” Myrtile sobbed. “There will +be for ever and ever. It is for my own sake that I must +leave. I thought that love was a toy, and I laughed to +find it in my heart. And now I know that it is a torment. +I want to go back along the road I have come +and hide.”</p> + +<p>“We have both been a little foolish,” Mary said +kindly. “You looked out into life, expecting to find +happiness, just as children go into the meadows to pick +flowers. And I, too, forgot that happiness only comes +when it is earned.—Now let us try and be sensible. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>think that yours is a very good idea. We shall miss +you very much here, but perhaps it will be best for you +to go away for a little time.”</p> + +<p>“I must go,” Myrtile insisted fervently.</p> + +<p>“But teaching?”</p> + +<p>“There is no need for me to teach,” Myrtile declared. +“This letter that I have from the curé, it was written to +tell me that my mother’s brother, who went to Geneva +many years ago, has died and left me some money. An +<i>avocat</i> at Toulon has it for me. It is quite a great +deal. I thought that I would buy a small farm and +work in the fields there, work and work until I got brown +and hard and grew like those other peasant girls there, +lumps of the earth to which they stoop all the time. In +a way I used to love the farm,” she went on, “when I +was alone—those first few mornings when the fields +began to show purple with the budding violets, and the +still evenings when the cypress trees looked as though +they had come out of a box of children’s toys—and +the colours the sunset used to draw out of the mountains, +the magentas and purples, and the pink glow +coming in such unexpected places.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you’re positively homesick!” Mary exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“No, I am not homesick,” Myrtile assured her +gravely, “but I am like an animal that has been hurt +and wants to limp back to its home. A little time ago +it was different. Every fibre of me longed for escape, to +be where life was. Now I would like to go where I can +forget it.”</p> + +<p>Mary sighed.</p> + +<p>“Fortunately,” she said, “you are very young. You +will learn soon that there are many men of Gerald’s +type, and that they are not to be taken too seriously. +They have the trick of making you believe what they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>want you to believe, and they use it because they must. +They are never quite honest. They are never quite bad. +They certainly are not worth a broken heart.—Now +we must take this message down to my father and send +a reply. He does not altogether approve of Christopher’s +politics, but he will be glad to know that he is +elected. Afterwards, I will talk to him about you. I +shall have to be very eloquent, for I know he will hate +your going.”</p> + +<p>“If it could be before Gerald comes back,” Myrtile +pleaded.</p> + +<p>Mary had even more trouble with her father than she +had expected. At the first mention of Gerald’s name in +connection with Myrtile’s desire to return to France, he +stiffened.</p> + +<p>“Mary,” he insisted, “I shall require you to tell me +the exact truth as to this matter.”</p> + +<p>“I will do so,” Mary promised.</p> + +<p>“How much blame is to be attached to Gerald, and +precisely what are his relations with Myrtile?” Lord +Hinterleys asked sternly.</p> + +<p>“Gerald is to blame only for thoughtlessness,” she +assured him. “He is a born philanderer, just as Myrtile +was born to be a ready victim. Myrtile loves him, +and I am afraid she will never care for any one else. +Other women have to bear their hurts, though, and I +dare say she will get over it.”</p> + +<p>“Gerald is a fool,” his father declared. “Marrying +in one’s own class is well enough in an ordinary way, +but—well, there isn’t another woman like Myrtile in +the world. Gerald is an ass not to realise it instead of +going to Russia, risking his life and liberty for the sake +of this Russian girl. I don’t like Russians—never did. +You are a person of common sense, Mary. If you say +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>Myrtile must go, go she must, but I’d much rather Gerald +came to his senses and married her.”</p> + +<p>“Men are rather difficult in that way,” Mary rejoined, +a little bitterly.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> butler made his announcement to his mistress a +little doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“There is a person here, your ladyship, who desires +to see you.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of a person?” Lady Mary enquired.</p> + +<p>The butler coughed.</p> + +<p>“A woman, your ladyship. She struck me as being +some sort of a foreigner. She assured me that her business +was urgent. I have shown her into the morning +room.”</p> + +<p>Mary rose to her feet at once.</p> + +<p>“A foreigner?” she repeated, with suddenly aroused +interest. “Perhaps she has news of Lord Dombey.”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when she entered the little room where +Elsa Francks was waiting, it scarcely seemed likely that +news of so fastidious a person as her brother could come +from such a source. Her doubts, however, were soon +set at rest.</p> + +<p>“Are you Lord Dombey’s sister?” the woman asked +bluntly, without offering to move from her chair.</p> + +<p>“I am,” Lady Mary acknowledged at once. “Have +you brought news of him?”</p> + +<p>“I have brought him home,” was the unexpected reply.</p> + +<p>“You?” Lady Mary exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The woman laughed coarsely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, me!” she declared. “I have saved his life a +dozen times over, as I dare say he will tell you some day. +Even now I do not know why.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>“But where is he?” Lady Mary demanded.</p> + +<p>“He is safe in the Charing Cross Hospital,” the +woman replied, “and if you want to know all about him, +you will give me some wine quickly.”</p> + +<p>Mary, scarcely conscious of what she did, rang the +bell. This woman was certainly the strangest visitor +who had ever penetrated the portals of Hinterleys +House. She seemed larger and coarser than ever. Her +clothes were showy, but unbrushed and crumpled as +though she had slept in them for nights; her hair was +yellow but untidy. The rouge and powder were distributed +upon her face in ungainly daubs. She breathed +an atmosphere of stale scent. Notwithstanding all +these things, she had news of Gerald, Gerald who for +seven months had been lost! Lady Mary waited eagerly +for the butler, who entered the room, full of the confident +anticipation that he would be asked to remove this +incongruous visitor.</p> + +<p>“This lady would like some wine,” Lady Mary announced. +“Do tell me what you would prefer?” she +added, turning towards her guest.</p> + +<p>“Champagne, if you have it,” was the prompt reply.</p> + +<p>“Bring champagne, Richards,” his mistress directed. +“Perhaps you had better tell his lordship. This lady +has brought us news of Lord Dombey.”</p> + +<p>The woman held out her hand.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bring any lordships here,” she begged. “I +will tell my story to you, ma’am. I am very near hysterics +myself. To reach here from Sokar has taken us +a month. We tried at seven places on the frontier before +we could get into Poland.”</p> + +<p>“Poland?” Mary exclaimed. “But here is the wine. +Do, please, help yourself.”</p> + +<p>The woman was served with champagne and dry biscuits, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>which latter she scornfully rejected. She drank +three glasses of champagne, however. Then she filled a +fourth glass for herself and began to talk.</p> + +<p>“How much do you know of your brother’s visit to +Russia?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Only that he went there on some mysterious errand +at the instigation of two ladies, who are, I believe, Russians.”</p> + +<p>“One of them was called Pauline—his sweetheart, +eh?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” Mary admitted.</p> + +<p>“Well, here is my story,” Elsa Francks said, draining +the contents of her glass and refilling it. “Remember +it, for I shall never tell it again. It is a story I +would like to forget.”</p> + +<p>“I will certainly remember it,” Mary promised.</p> + +<p>“Twelve months ago I went to live at Sokar,” Elsa +Francks began. “It is a miserable place, but I went +there to be near my friend Ivan Krossneys, the Governor +of the fortress. In that fortress was confined a +man whom your brother went to Russia to rescue. He +came to me to ask me to help him bribe the Governor. +That was in the month of October last year. He was a +very different person then, and I thought that I liked +him very much.”</p> + +<p>The woman sipped her champagne. The warmth of +the room, and the wine, had moistened her face. A little +streak of rouge had spread upon her left cheek. +There were black lines under her eyes. Her voice, however, +was stronger.</p> + +<p>“He offered a great deal of money and I agreed to +help. I sent for Ivan and, although he made difficulties, +he was easy to persuade. It was all arranged. The +prisoner—Number Twenty-nine, we called him—walked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>out of the fortress in your brother’s clothes and +with his American passport. Your brother was to take +his place for twenty-four hours. Then he was to leave +the prison in the funeral coach of another prisoner who +had died.”</p> + +<p>“This was seven months ago,” Mary faltered.</p> + +<p>The woman wiped her lips, shivered at the sight of +the colour upon her handkerchief, closed her eyes for a +moment and recovered herself.</p> + +<p>“That seven months,” she said deliberately, “has +seemed like seven years, and each year like a lifetime in +hell!—Listen. I go on with the story. Your brother +entered the fortress as arranged, changed clothes with +Number Twenty-nine, who walked out of the place and +came, without doubt, to London. Your brother was to +spend that night in the fortress. Krossneys came down +to me. We were both excited. It was a great sum of +money which we had been paid, and life in Russia is a +horrible burden. We drank a great deal of wine. The +more we drank, the more quarrelsome Ivan became. He +resented having to part with so large a share of the +money to me. We quarrelled. Once or twice we made +it up. Then Ivan’s anger flared out again. In the +end, he declared that he would take away a part of my +share. We had a struggle. Somehow or other, his revolver +went off. He went backwards with a groan. He +was dead.”</p> + +<p>The woman dabbed at her face. Mary could find no +word of any sort. Her visitor’s eyes seemed fixed in a +rigid stare. It was as though she were living through +the scene again.</p> + +<p>“The police came,” she went on. “I was arrested. +I told my story. There were no witnesses. After four +days they had to let me go. The moment I was free I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>went to the fortress. Ivan’s deputy was taking his +place. He was a man of a different type, a politician, a +Bolshevist from conviction. Every time he mentioned +Number Twenty-nine, he spat. I had much trouble with +him.”</p> + +<p>“Go on,” Mary begged, glancing at the clock.</p> + +<p>“You need not worry about your brother,” Elsa +Francks said. “He will not know you when you go to +see him. He has forgotten most things.—This man’s +name was Ahrensein. I told him the whole truth. I +am quite sure that if he had come into charge of the +prison whilst the real Number Twenty-nine had been +there, he would have found some excuse for having him +shot within twenty-four hours. He even told me so. +He was furious at the trick which had been played,—‘But,’ +he declared, ‘the Englishman who has put himself +in Number Twenty-nine’s place shall suffer for him!’ +I was allowed to see your brother. He had got over the +first shock of what had happened and I found him full +of courage. We discussed several plans for his escape, +which, however, we never carried into effect. I do not +believe that any one could have bought the life of Number +Twenty-nine from Ahrensein for a million pounds. +With your brother, however, it was different. In the +end, I made over to him one of your brother’s drafts—one +I took back from Ivan Krossneys after he was dead—cashed +one of the smaller ones, and one dark night +we drove away from the fortress.”</p> + +<p>“But this is all so long ago!” Mary exclaimed wonderingly.</p> + +<p>The woman nodded.</p> + +<p>“We were in the train for Petrograd,” she went on, +“when I had a message from Ahrensein, telling me that +he was superseded. His successor had arrived, and was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>holding an enquiry into the escape of Number Twenty-nine. +He advised me not to go near Petrograd. We +left the train just as a company of soldiers from the +fortress arrived on the platform. The train was held +up and searched. We took a carriage and drove away, +anywhere, away into the plains. We had money but +nothing else. We bought the carriage and horses, +bought the driver, body and soul. Driving by night, +resting the horses and hiding ourselves by day, we travelled +a hundred miles southeastwards.”</p> + +<p>“You must tell me the rest another time,” Lady +Mary suggested.</p> + +<p>“What I am going to tell you, I shall tell you now +or never,” Elsa Francks answered fiercely. “It won’t +be much, I can promise you. When I leave this house, +the story of these months is coming out of my mind, +whether I have to dull it by drink, or even cut it out of +my brain.—We were always in danger, always being +tracked. We went short distances by train. Sometimes +we hired carriages. We even travelled for the +whole of one day in an electric car which crawled between +two small towns. Seven times we tried to cross +the frontier into Poland, and each time we were turned +back. Once they had heard of us and we were placed +under arrest. Your brother shot two of the guard and +we escaped. After that it was life or death with us. +We were passed across the frontier at last in a spot +where the war zone had been. We were scarcely in +Poland before half a regiment of Russians was after us. +We were in Poland, however. We left them fighting. +We heard afterwards that the Russians who had crossed +the frontier were wiped out.—We got across Poland, +somehow or other, into Germany. The rest was all discomfort +and misery, but most of the danger was past. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>Your brother fell ill in Warsaw. Since then he has +been dazed and weak, with a high temperature, and with +fits of unconsciousness. How I got him here, I don’t +know. We arrived at Fenchurch Street this morning. +I drove to Charing Cross Hospital and they took him +at once. He was shouting like a madman. Then I +drove here.”</p> + +<p>She poured out the last glass of wine from the bottle +and drank it. Then she rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>“It is a wonderful story, this!” Mary exclaimed. +“You must not go away yet, or, if you do, you must +come back again. My father will want to thank you.”</p> + +<p>“I do not want thanks,” the woman scoffed. “I +started out on this adventure because your brother had +paid a great sum of money and because I had a fancy +for him. I have lost that fancy, but I made up my +mind that I would bring your brother home, and I have +done it. I do not wish for any further payment. I +have spent your brother’s money freely, but I have +enough left to give me all that I need in life. I do not +like England and I am going away to-day. Is there +any further question you wish to ask?”</p> + +<p>“None that I can think of for the moment,” Lady +Mary admitted. “I think that it was very wonderful +of you to run all these risks. You might have left my +brother there and gone away with the money.”</p> + +<p>“I very nearly did,” the woman confessed bluntly. +“Many a time, on the way home, I wished that I had +done it. Your brother has a fine courage at times, but +he is a weakling in the ugly places of life. Often when +I dragged him along through the mud, and he had to +sleep on a stone floor, with coarse food to eat, and no +wine, he would rather have come out into the open and +fought for his life and ended it. I dare say, when he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>recovers, he will be grateful to me. There have been +many times when he has hated me.—Now I will go.”</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, dabbed more powder on her face +and looked at her hostess a little defiantly. Lady Mary +rang the bell. Then she held out her hand.</p> + +<p>“Thank you very much for bringing Gerald home,” +she said.</p> + +<p>Elsa Francks laughed hardly. She refused the hand.</p> + +<p>“You have no need for gratitude,” she said. “I +started on the job because I had a fancy for your +brother. When I lost that, I went on because I am an +obstinate woman. As for recompense, I still have a fortune, +but I am glad that these months are over. You +can tell your brother that I took Krossneys’ share of +the money as well as my own. When he comes to think +it over, I think he will say I earned it.”</p> + +<p>She followed the butler out of the room. Mary +watched her from the window with fascinated eyes, saw +her hail a passing taxicab with her outstretched umbrella, +watched her fling herself into it, put up her feet +on the opposite seat and light a cigarette. She had the +air of a woman who has accomplished a great task.</p> + +<p>Lady Mary rang the bell.</p> + +<p>“The car at once, Richards,” she ordered. “Lord +Dombey is in London. I am going to fetch him home.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christopher</span> had taken his seat—had already, indeed, +made his maiden speech—when Gerald left the +nursing home into which he had been moved from the +hospital. The doctors, however, were far from satisfied +with his condition. He was still thin, listless in manner, +with long periods of absent-mindedness. He seemed, in +a way, to have lost self-control. Mary, as they drove +home together to Hinterleys House, made up her mind +to break the long silence which had existed between them +on the subject of Pauline.</p> + +<p>“Gerald,” she asked, “have you seen or heard anything +of the De Ponières?”</p> + +<p>Gerald turned and looked at her out of his hollow +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” he confessed. “I wrote from the nursing +home six times. I have had no reply. They must +have left the hotel in South Kensington.”</p> + +<p>“Would you like me to try and find out?”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” he answered. “I have made up +my mind to go there myself this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“May I come with you?” she begged.</p> + +<p>“If you like,” he answered half-heartedly. “They +won’t be there, though. I am just hoping that I may +hear of them.”</p> + +<p>The hope, however, was not realised. Madame and +Mademoiselle had left the hotel many months ago, and +had left no address behind. The hall porter, encouraged +to tell what he knew by Gerald’s liberal tip, showed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>a great sheaf of letters which he had been unable to forward.</p> + +<p>“Can’t understand their leaving no address, sir,” he +confided. “They paid their accounts well and regular, +gave notice in the usual way, and just drove off. I +asked if they wouldn’t leave an address in case there +should be any letters, but the young lady replied that +she would call round for them when she was in town +again.”</p> + +<p>“And she hasn’t been here since?” Lady Mary enquired.</p> + +<p>“Never a sign of her,” the hall porter replied.</p> + +<p>Gerald handed the man his card.</p> + +<p>“It will be worth a five-pound note to you at any +time if you should discover their address,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I’ll let you know within ten minutes, if I can get +hold of it, sir,” the man promised. “I’ve a sort of an +idea, though, that we shan’t set eyes on those two ladies +again. The manageress,” he went on, dropping his +voice to a confidential whisper, “wasn’t too sorry to see +them go.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” Gerald asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, she don’t like foreigners, to start with,” he +explained, “besides which we were always getting queer +sorts of people here asking about them. Might have +been detectives or anything. I’m not saying a word +against them—they always paid their way right and +generously—but there was a queer lot of people watching +them all the time.”</p> + +<p>Gerald and his sister drove away from the hotel in +silence.</p> + +<p>“You are disappointed?” Mary asked him anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I thought they might have left a message for me,” +he admitted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>“You’ll come down to Hinterleys to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I must find her,” he announced, in a tone curiously +devoid of enthusiasm or hope.</p> + +<p>Mary said nothing then, but she took him to task +that evening. They had dined tête-à-tête, Lord Hinterleys +having already gone down to the country. For +the first time Gerald showed some interest in Myrtile’s +absence.</p> + +<p>“What did you say had become of Myrtile?” he enquired.</p> + +<p>“She has gone back to France,” his sister told him. +“She had a little money left to her, and she wanted to +go. I had a letter from her this morning. She has +bought the old farm where you first saw her and is +growing violets.”</p> + +<p>“Why did she want to go back?” Gerald persisted. +“You were all kind to her, I hope?”</p> + +<p>“We all tried to be,” Mary answered. “Dad misses +her terribly.—Why, here’s Christopher!” she broke +off suddenly. “Whatever are you doing, neglecting +your duties in this manner?” she asked, as Christopher, +still in morning clothes, was shown in by the butler.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come to beg for some dinner,” was the smiling +reply, “and incidentally to welcome Gerald back.”</p> + +<p>Mary coloured a little with pleasure. The butler +was already arranging another place.</p> + +<p>“It’s awfully nice of you, Christopher,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Very good of you to take me in like this,” he replied. +“There’s nothing doing at the House, and I felt sure +you two would be alone. I should think you must have +been about fed up with that nursing home, Gerald.”</p> + +<p>“I’m fed up with everything,” Gerald replied, a little +wearily. “The doctors say I’m all right again, but I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>don’t know. I can’t sleep, and there seems to be an +empty place in my head, somehow. If I begin to think, +I get the jim-jams. Give me some champagne, Richards.”</p> + +<p>“The country for you, my boy,” Christopher declared. +“If I were Mary, I’d take you down to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I’ve something to do first,” he said. “By the bye, +you know about Myrtile, I suppose? She’s gone back +to the little farm.”</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded. Mary, who was watching him +closely, fancied that his indifference was almost natural.</p> + +<p>“Queer thing,” he observed, “to think that she +should end up there, after all. I wonder whether she +blesses or curses us, Gerald, for taking her to the end +of the road.”</p> + +<p>Gerald sighed a little wearily.</p> + +<p>“Curses us, I should think,” he replied. “All knowledge +is pain; so is memory. Last night I woke up suddenly +and I remembered fighting with that great brute +on the Polish frontier.—Did Elsa tell you about the +man I killed there?” he asked, frowning.</p> + +<p>Mary rose abruptly to her feet.</p> + +<p>“Remember the doctor’s orders,” she insisted. “The +last twelve months are taboo. There are worse things +in the world than killing Bolshevists, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“The chap had some one who was fond of him, I +suppose,” Gerald said gloomily. “You ought to have +seen that woman who brought me home, Christopher. +I can’t get the thought of her out of my brain. The +first time I saw her, I went to persuade her to bribe +her lover, Krossneys. I thought her the coarsest, most +brutal, most ungainly creature who ever abused the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>name of Woman. Then I saw her month after month, +playing a man’s part. She lied, she swore, she fought,—fought +with her fists if there was nothing else handy; +she drank; once she almost carried me over a mile of +marshland, with some outpost sentries sniping at us all +the time. She was a hideous, glorious, epic figure. +There was a man whom we both knew to be a spy and +on my tracks. I saw her wheedle him into her room. +Two minutes afterwards, his blood was streaming out +from under the door.”</p> + +<p>“Gerald!” his sister entreated.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he muttered. “I’m not sure that it +doesn’t do me good to talk of these things. They’ve +been a silent horror with me for so long.”</p> + +<p>Later, the doctor called to see Gerald, and Christopher +led Mary across the hall into the billiard +room.</p> + +<p>“Mary,” he confided, as soon as he had closed the +door, “I had a reason for coming round to-night. I +have seen the girl.”</p> + +<p>“Where?” Mary asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Here in London. They were opening the gates of +Marlborough House as I came along Pall Mall, and I +was stopped for a moment on the pavement. A small +brougham came out. The windows were closed, but I +was within a few feet of it. The girl was inside with a +young man.”</p> + +<p>“If only you could have found out where they went +to!” Mary exclaimed. “Gerald will never be better +until he has seen her.”</p> + +<p>“He can do that when he likes, then,” Christopher +replied. “I jumped into a taxi and followed the carriage. +It drew up before quite a small, detached house +at the back of Roehampton Lane. I jumped out of my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>taxi quickly, and I was just in time to stop her as she +was entering the gate.”</p> + +<p>“Go on,” Mary begged. “This is exciting.”</p> + +<p>“She recognised me at once,” Christopher went on, +“and she made no attempt to get away. I told her +that I was Gerald’s friend and that he was looking for +her. ‘You can tell him,’ she replied, ‘that he can find +me here.’”</p> + +<p>“What did the young man say?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing at all. He was very good-looking in his +way, a great strong fellow, but he looked as though he +had been ill.—What are you going to do about this? +Are you going to tell Gerald?”</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>“I think so. I don’t believe this girl means to marry +him. It is much better, however, that he knows the +exact position.”</p> + +<p>“I wrote down the address and here it is,” Christopher +said, handing her a card. “If I can be of any +use——”</p> + +<p>“You dear man!” she exclaimed. “We must leave +it to Gerald. I hope that he will let me go with him. +I think he ought to find out just where he stands at +once.”</p> + +<p>“I am not going back to the House,” Christopher +remarked. “Could we have one game of billiards?”</p> + +<p>“I should love it,” she answered. “Gerald will come +and look for us as soon as he has finished with the doctor. +You used to give me fifteen, wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Gerald came in presently and sat watching them a +little listlessly. When the game, which Mary won with +some ease, came to an end, she went over and seated +herself by her brother’s side.</p> + +<p>“Gerald,” she said, “Christopher has discovered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>Pauline’s address. It is quite close by here. You must +go and see her to-morrow. Would you like either of +us to come with you?”</p> + +<p>Gerald began to tremble.</p> + +<p>“She is here—in London—all right?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Absolutely,” Christopher declared. “She was +looking quite well. Her brother was with her.”</p> + +<p>“I will go alone,” Gerald decided. “I will go to-morrow. +Now you have told me something worth hearing. +Perhaps to-night I shall sleep.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gerald</span>, after all, derived small satisfaction from his +visit on the following day. He found his destination +easily,—a small, detached house in a retired back +street, with a bell at the front gate and spiked railings. +He was admitted without undue delay by an ordinary-looking +parlour maid and conducted into a small sitting +room. After waiting a minute or two, the door +was opened and Madame de Ponière entered.</p> + +<p>“You have come to see my niece, Lord Dombey?” +she enquired, after a word of conventional greeting.</p> + +<p>“Is it very surprising that I should come?” Gerald +rejoined, a little bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not from your point of view,” was the +equable reply. “My niece has, in fact, been anticipating +your visit.”</p> + +<p>“It would have been kinder of her,” Gerald ventured, +“if she had let me know her whereabouts. I have been +in the hospital and afterwards in a nursing home for +some time.”</p> + +<p>“My niece had other matters to consider,” Madame +de Ponière declared drily. “She is living in the utmost +retirement, through force of circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“Can I see her now?” Gerald asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>“She will grant you an audience,” Madame de +Ponière replied. “I have her permission to disclose her +whereabouts, on one condition.”</p> + +<p>“She is not here, then?” Gerald exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“She is not here.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>“But she was here yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“She was forced to come to London on a certain +matter,” her aunt explained. “She left at nightfall. +If you wish to make the journey, you can go and see +her.”</p> + +<p>“Where is she?” Gerald asked.</p> + +<p>“I shall require,” Madame de Ponière said, “your +word of honour that you will not divulge her whereabouts +to any living person.”</p> + +<p>“I think that the dangers you conjure up are entirely +imaginary,” Gerald remarked, a little impatiently, +“but I will give you that promise.”</p> + +<p>“My niece is to be found at Duvenny Castle in Scotland,” +Madame de Ponière announced. “It is a somewhat +inaccessible place. Particulars of how to reach it +are here.”</p> + +<p>She handed him a slip of paper.</p> + +<p>“In Scotland?” Gerald repeated, a little wearily. +“But she was here yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“She left at night,” Madame de Ponière reminded +him.</p> + +<p>Gerald folded the slip of paper and put it in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said, “I will go to Scotland.”</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière looked at him through her lorgnettes +for a moment thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“You have been ill,” she remarked.</p> + +<p>“I have been ill,” he assented.</p> + +<p>Madame de Ponière lowered her lorgnettes and closed +them with a little snap.</p> + +<p>“If I thought that you would accept it,” she said, +“I would give you a word of advice.”</p> + +<p>“I can at least hear it,” he suggested.</p> + +<p>“Go back to the manner of life you were living before +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>you met Pauline—and forget her. Your visit +to Scotland will be of no service to you. It will only +end in disappointment.”</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>“That,” he said obstinately, “I must discover for +myself.”</p> + +<p>Gerald, following in the main the directions on the +slip of paper given him by Madame de Ponière, reached +his destination on the afternoon of the third day. He +was in the car which he had hired at the last town on +the railway route, a town which seemed to him, unacquainted +with this corner of Scotland, almost an +outpost of civilisation. After miles of moorland, unbroken +except for huge boulders, the way had led +around a range of smaller mountains until he had suddenly +encountered, when he had been least expecting it, +the tang of the sea. Many hundreds of feet below, he +saw at last his destination, a dwelling of stone as ancient +and rudely fashioned, it seemed, as the massed-up boulders +on every side. The road by which it was approached +was precipitous, in places almost impassable. +The last quarter of a mile was along a narrow bank, +unprotected on either side, with the spray from the +waves leaping up into his face. The road ended in a +circular sweep, surrounded by a high wall. In front +of him was a massive gate, closed and barred. The +porter who appeared in answer to the bell kept him +waiting while he communicated with the house. Finally +the gates were pushed open and the car allowed to proceed +up a steep, stone-paved ascent to a courtyard +also flagged with stones and also surrounded by a high +wall. In front was another massive door, which, however, +already stood open. Two men servants, both foreigners, +awaited his arrival. One attended to the closing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>of the door and remained with the chauffeur; the +other silently beckoned Gerald to follow him across the +stone floor of the bare, circular hall into a room at the +further end. He stood aside to let Gerald precede +him.</p> + +<p>“The gentleman will please be seated,” he said.</p> + +<p>Gerald found himself alone in an apartment not unduly +large but exceedingly lofty. It was simply but +magnificently furnished, but only a single rug lay upon +the floor. The windows looked sheer over the sea, and +the thunder of the waves against the jagged rocks +seemed almost at his feet. The windows themselves +were narrow—the windows of a fortress—and the +depth of the window seat showed the thickness of the +walls. Gerald had little time to take note of these +things, however. Within a moment or two of his being +left alone, the door opened and Pauline entered.</p> + +<p>Speech of any sort, it seemed to Gerald, must be pitifully +inadequate. He stood looking at her, wondering if +anything in her expression would give him the clue to +her mysterious behaviour. She came towards him, however, +as composed and unresponsive as ever. There was +nothing whatever in her manner to indicate the fact +that she was greeting the man who had risked his life +in a mad enterprise for her sake.</p> + +<p>“You have had a long journey, Lord Dombey,” she +said.</p> + +<p>He bowed over the hand which she had extended to +him.</p> + +<p>“A long journey, indeed,” he assented, “a journey +down into hell and back.”</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” she invited, “and I will give you the +explanation I owe you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” he answered, “I do not feel at home +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>in this house. Let me remain standing until after you +have told me what it all means. I have done your bidding. +I have come to beg for my reward.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes looked at him coldly.</p> + +<p>“I promised no reward,” she reminded him.</p> + +<p>“Not in words,” he admitted, “yet you know what +I desire.”</p> + +<p>“What you desire is absurd,” she declared. “That +is what I wish to explain. You have discovered, perhaps, +who I am.”</p> + +<p>“I learned who your brother was.”</p> + +<p>“My brother!” she smiled. “Well,” she went on, +“listen. I am the Grand Duchess Pauline of Russia, +Princess and hereditary ruler of the Caspian Provinces, +and nearest in kin amongst living women to Nicholas, +who was murdered by the people. The man whom you +rescued is Paul, Grand Duke of Volostok, hereditary +ruler of seventeen provinces, and nearest in the male line +to the Crown of Russia. He is my cousin.”</p> + +<p>“Your cousin?” Gerald exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“And my husband,” she answered calmly.</p> + +<p>Gerald was extraordinarily cool. The situation began +slowly to shape itself in his mind.</p> + +<p>“It has been the province of royalty,” Pauline continued, +“to make use of their courtiers, without explanation, +in whatever way may seem good to them. I +have made use of you. I did not seek your acquaintance +or your friendship. I have made you no promises. +I have kept you much farther away even from hope +than would many of my illustrious ancestresses. Yet, +in these days, you will probably think that you have +been ill-treated. I cannot help it. I and others of my +race have been ill and mercilessly treated. Yours has +been a small wrong. I made use of you and your devotion +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>to free my cousin, to whom I was affianced. So +far as my thanks can satisfy you, I tender them.”</p> + +<p>“You are very gracious,” Gerald acknowledged, forgetting +all his weariness and holding himself like a man. +“May I ask, were you married to the Grand Duke when +I fetched him from his prison?”</p> + +<p>“I was not,” Pauline assured him. “I was married +a month after his return to England, with the consent +and the approbation of my relatives here. Paul and I +have but one hope and one desire—to live until the +time when the people of Russia return to their allegiance, +and to reëstablish the Romanoff dynasty in +Russia, either through ourselves or our children. For +that reason we are living here with an unseen guard +provided by the English Government. When you first +met us, we lived in seclusion because already four times +my life had been attempted. There are still men pledged +to destroy us root and branch. Here they will not succeed. +We are surrounded by faithful guards, and our +lives are consecrate. Not until the children live and +flourish who shall carry on our name, will I or my husband +take the slightest risk. The world may see something +of us later. For the present we have only one +thought.”</p> + +<p>Gerald stood amongst the wreck of his dreams. He +seemed to be listening to the thunder of the sea, to be +watching the queer-shaped shaft of sunlight which +stretched across the floor. He found speech almost impossible. +The silence lasted so long, however, that he +was compelled to break it.</p> + +<p>“Your Highness’ explanation is complete?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“It is complete,” she replied. “You will understand +that your—shall I call it admiration?—was, in a +sense, an offence to me. In Monte Carlo I will admit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span>that through sheer weariness I was perhaps a little indiscreet. +The situation then seemed hopeless.”</p> + +<p>“I understand,” Gerald murmured.</p> + +<p>“The Grand Duke, my husband, will wish to offer +you some hospitality,” she said, touching a bell.</p> + +<p>“It is quite unnecessary,” Gerald replied.</p> + +<p>“Be so good as to await his coming,” she enjoined.</p> + +<p>Prince Paul entered the room a moment or two later, +a touch of sunburn on his cheeks, erect and handsome, +a very different person from the broken prisoner of a +few months ago. He advanced towards Gerald with +outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>“It gives me great pleasure,” he said, “to welcome +you in my very bad English to our home. You see, I +reached England safely.”</p> + +<p>“I was glad to hear of it,” Gerald remarked.</p> + +<p>“Some day you must tell me your own adventures,” +the young man continued. “Perhaps you will give us +the pleasure of your company to dinner to-night?”</p> + +<p>Gerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I have promised the owner of the car which I hired,” +he said, “to return it to him to-night. I must, in fact, +be leaving at once.”</p> + +<p>A servant entered with a tray bearing wine and +whisky. Paul served his guest himself.</p> + +<p>“They tell me that this is the most hospitable country +of the world,” he observed. “Even in Russia we +should not let you depart without a toast. You will +wish us those things for which Her Highness and I +live.”</p> + +<p>Gerald bowed and raised his glass to his lips.</p> + +<p>“I shall drink to you and to your country,” he said, +“and to the good of both.”</p> + +<p>He set down his glass empty. Pauline smiled her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>good-by, but they handed him over to the care of servants +with the air of royalty.—Gerald drove through +the opened gates, heard the bars grind behind him, and, +looking around for a last view, was dimly conscious of +men who watched. Years afterwards, this strange visit, +with all its trifling events, assumed its proper proportions +in his mind. That night, however, he drove over +the moors and around the mountains absolutely without +any direct emotions. It was impossible to believe that +his visit had not been the phantasy of an afternoon’s +slumber.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> they had left Toulon, the two men seemed almost +to change places. Gerald, who for the last four +days had been in much the same mentally comatose +state as he had been since his return from Scotland, +sat up and for the first time began to look about him +with interest. Christopher, on the other hand, who +during the whole of their journey had been continually +endeavouring to amuse and entertain his companion, +gradually relapsed into a rare fit of thoughtfulness. +They had passed through Hyères, however, and were +winding their way around the Forêt du Dom, before +any direct allusion was made to the subject which in +varying degrees was foremost in the minds of both of +them.</p> + +<p>“About an hour and a half beyond this, wasn’t it?” +Gerald asked.</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded. It was significant that he +made no comment upon the fact that Gerald had caught +up with his own train of thought.</p> + +<p>“Just about this time of the year, too,” Gerald +went on, ruminatingly. “I remember these orchards +were just showing a little pink. And you say she’s +back again there, Chris. I wonder why? There wasn’t +any trouble at home, was there?”</p> + +<p>“Not the slightest,” Christopher assured him. “In +fact, all the time you were in Russia your father seemed +to rely upon her absolutely. It was a great blow to +him when she made up her mind to go back.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>“But what made her want to leave?” Gerald persisted.</p> + +<p>Christopher did not hesitate for a moment. He +meant to take every possible advantage of this, the first +sign of any real interest in life which Gerald had shown +for months.</p> + +<p>“Because she is very finely strung,” he said, “and +the situation was becoming impossible for her. She was +very much in love with you, and you were crazy about +some one else. I was very much in love with her, as I +always had been, and I was ass enough to try and +persuade her to marry me. Of course,” he went on, “I +ought to have realised the unconquerable fidelity of a +nature like hers. An ordinary woman,” he went on, +leaning back in his corner and discussing the matter +very much as he would have done a legal point presented +for his opinion, “might select and prefer one +man to all others, but if, for some reason or other, he +did not return her affection, she would be able, in course +of time, to feel practically the same thing for another +man. Myrtile could never do that. She has that saint-like +fidelity which is the joy and the curse of the best +women. You are a very dear fellow, Gerald, and I am +very fond of you, but I sometimes get fed up with your +nerves, your blindness, your Grand Duchesses and your +stark idiocy.”</p> + +<p>Gerald sat up in his place and stared at his friend in +amazement.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been keeping that bottled up, +Chris?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Ever since Myrtile turned me down,” was the +prompt reply. “She was as kind as she could be about +it, but she did her job like a surgeon. She hurt, but I +knew it was no use ever thinking about her again that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>way. I am a dispassionate observer now and I can see +the truth.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I have been rather an ass,” Gerald acknowledged, +“but you must remember, Chris, I didn’t +quite know what I was in for when I took on that visit +to Russia, and I don’t think any one could go through +what I had to go through without getting bowled over. +Fancy being taken care of like a baby by that amazing +woman, Elsa Francks!—Having to owe her your life +half a dozen times over! Seeing that great coarse +creature, with her hank of yellow hair, and her +breath smelling of drink and patchouli, standing up +one moment and defying death, and lying the next without +a tremor to guards who would have set us up +against the wall and shot us on sight if they had known +the truth!”</p> + +<p>“She was an epic figure,” Christopher declared. “I +wonder what has become of her.”</p> + +<p>“Heaven knows!” Gerald answered. “We may +meet her queening it at Monte Carlo, or she may have +married a respectable German tradesman and buried +the past. She is wealthy enough. She got that fellow +Krossneys’ share of the money I took out, as well as +her own.—How these pine trees smell, Chris! And +what sunshine! One could sleep here.”</p> + +<p>Gerald leaned back in his place with half-closed eyes, +and Christopher was well content to leave him alone. +This was the first time he had spoken naturally of his +journey to Russia and the terrible experience through +which he had passed. All through the summer months +he had lain about the gardens at Hinterleys, accepting +life as an inevitable burden, gaining no strength, sleeping +little, all the time engaged in a morbid struggle with +the tyranny of his nerves. Nothing had moved or interested +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>him. These last few sentences of his were the +first evidences of his return to a natural outlook. +Physically he had shrunken almost to a shadow. There +was very little left of the gay and debonair young man +who had passed his arm round Myrtile’s waist and +drawn her into the car, mocked at Christopher’s remonstrances, +and, with a few careless words, built up +in Myrtile’s heart the fairyland at the end of the road. +Yet, as they drew near the place where they had found +her, he seemed to shake off some of his torpor. He sat +up and looked about him with reminiscent eyes. One +more bend and they would see the gate!</p> + +<p>“Would you like to stop for a moment?” Christopher +asked. “Myrtile is almost certain to be here.”</p> + +<p>This was most assuredly a changed Gerald. He was +almost diffident.</p> + +<p>“If you think she would like to see us,” he assented.</p> + +<p>He sat upright now, leaning a little forward. They +were round the corner, in sight of the little grove of +cypresses. And there at the gate—Myrtile!—Gerald +gave a little exclamation which sounded almost like a +sob. His incredulous stare had something in it alike of +pain and fear.</p> + +<p>“I wrote her days ago and said that we should be +passing,” Christopher hastily explained.</p> + +<p>She stepped out into the road to greet them. Even +to Christopher, her coming was almost like a vision. +The small differences of clothing and circumstance +seemed scarcely to exist. It was Myrtile who welcomed +them, shyly but joyfully. Her eyes were fixed upon +Gerald, and there was a touch of sublime pity in them +as she realised the change. But from her face shone the +same things.</p> + +<p>“You will come in and see my home?” she begged. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>“The car can turn in here. The road is better than it +used to be.”</p> + +<p>“I am tired of the car,” Gerald said. “I would +rather walk.”</p> + +<p>They moved slowly down through the cypress avenue, +Gerald leaning a little on Myrtile’s arm, Christopher +loitering behind. On one side were the formal lines of +the closely pruned vines, protruding from the rich brown +earth; on the other a flush of purple from the field of +violets. Myrtile answered some half intelligible question +from Gerald.</p> + +<p>“I am very happy here,” she assured him. “There +is so much to do. I have broken up some more of the +land for growing violets, and presently I will show you +my carnations. The vineyards, too, needed a lot of +attention; they had been very much neglected. I hope +you like the colour of the house? I had it painted pink +because of the background. And you see what a lovely +verandah I have had built? By moving a few yards +one gets the sun all day.”</p> + +<p>“It is the most restful and the most beautiful place +I have ever been in,” Gerald murmured. “Tell me, +Myrtile,” he added, “do you know all that has happened +to me?”</p> + +<p>“Everything! Christopher has written, and I had a +long letter, too, from your father. Please do not speak +of those things which are finished. You are here to +forget.”</p> + +<p>Involuntarily he looked away towards the road and +turned back with a shiver. Whatever his thoughts +might have been, he said nothing. A little French maid, +in spotless white cap and apron, came out on to the +verandah in reply to Myrtile’s call.</p> + +<p>“A bottle of our own wine and glasses,” Myrtile ordered, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>“some fruit, and the sandwiches I told you to +have ready, Marie. Come, we have another half-hour +of sunshine. Gerald, you must take the sofa chair.”</p> + +<p>Gerald sank into a sea of cushions. Myrtile, bending +over him, arranged them more comfortably. Her +eyes were soft with the shadow of tears. Gerald, more +weary than he had confessed, seemed for a moment almost +to doze.</p> + +<p>“He is very weak,” Myrtile whispered, looking anxiously +across towards Christopher.</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded.</p> + +<p>“It is the journey,” he answered. “I wish that it +were over.”</p> + +<p>The wine was brought, but Gerald was now in a +deep sleep. Christopher and Myrtile sat at the other +end of the verandah and talked in an undertone. Presently +the sun began to sink behind the forest-crowned +hills, westwards. A cool breeze came stealing across +the valley. Myrtile rose suddenly to her feet.</p> + +<p>“He must not sleep any longer,” she said firmly. +“He ought not to be out at all as late as this.”</p> + +<p>They tried to rouse him. Three times Christopher +laid his hand upon his shoulder and called him by name. +There was no response. Gerald was sleeping heavily, +his breathing was regular, the lines seemed to have +faded from his face.</p> + +<p>“It is the first time he has slept like this for weeks,” +Christopher declared. “It seems a shame to wake +him.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t,” she begged eagerly. “You see the chair +has castors. Wheel it into the sitting room, and if he +doesn’t wake, leave him here. Marie and I can look +after him, and Pierre, my head man, is a treasure. He +could carry him upstairs if it were necessary.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>“We’ll move him in and see if he wakes, anyhow,” +Christopher agreed.</p> + +<p>They wheeled him into Myrtile’s sitting room, sweet +and flower-scented, without his showing the slightest +sign of being disturbed. Myrtile closed the outer doors +and lit the fire of pine logs and cones which was already +prepared upon the hearth. Then she and Christopher +stole from the room.</p> + +<p>“This may be his salvation,” Christopher declared +hopefully.</p> + +<p>There were tears in Myrtile’s eyes. All the time she +seemed to be listening.</p> + +<p>“Leave him with me, Christopher,” she begged. “He +needs rest.”</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded.</p> + +<p>“I’ll send two of his bags down from the car,” he +proposed, “and some of us will come and have a look +at him in a few days. His servant can stay here if you +like, so that you have help if you want it.”</p> + +<p>She smiled through her tears.</p> + +<p>“I shall need no help,” she promised. “I will cure +Gerald. Tell Lady Mary and Lord Hinterleys that I +promise it. Only leave him alone with me. Do not +come, any of you, until I send. If he wishes to leave, +I can hire a car from San Raphael—he can be with +you in a few hours. But I think he will be content. I +think he will get better here.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI</h3> +</div> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">And</span> now,” Christopher said, as their car crawled +up the last ascent, “to see if Myrtile has kept her +word!”</p> + +<p>“Personally,” Lord Hinterleys declared, “I am confident. +That young woman has powers beyond the ordinary +human being’s. Besides, our telegrams every +day have assured us that all is well.”</p> + +<p>“It seems curious to me that Gerald should have been +so content,” Mary remarked. “Is this the place, Christopher?”</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded. The car was slowing up. On +their right was the little grove of cypress trees and the +gate.</p> + +<p>“Here they are!” Mary exclaimed. “Why, just +look at Gerald!”</p> + +<p>The two young people came down the cypress grove, +arm in arm. Gerald was walking with much of his old +swagger. Once more his head was thrown back; once +more there was all the joy of wild spirits in the abandon +of his enthusiastic greeting. Myrtile, on the other +hand, seemed quieter than usual.</p> + +<p>“Something deuced odd about the look of both of +them,” Lord Hinterleys remarked. “Gerald, you rascal, +how are you?”</p> + +<p>“Sane and sound, sir,” Gerald answered, stretching +out his hand, “thanks to Myrtile.”</p> + +<p>Lord Hinterleys looked at her curiously. Her eyes +suddenly fell. She had been laughing a little hysterically +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>a moment before. Now a fit of trembling seemed +to have seized her.</p> + +<p>“Gerald, what have you been up to?” his father demanded.</p> + +<p>Gerald laughed.</p> + +<p>“Listen to that, dad,” he said, “and see if you can’t +guess.”</p> + +<p>The bell from the little white church was tinkling +away crazily. Gerald passed his arm around Myrtile.</p> + +<p>“She’s terrified to death,” he declared. “Please +every one tell her that they’re glad.”</p> + +<p>Myrtile was easily persuaded. Her father-in-law dispossessed +Gerald as they turned towards the house. +Mary walked on the other side.</p> + +<p>“You have now arrived in time for the celebrations,” +Gerald continued. “The feasting tenantry are in view +on the far side of the house. You will presently have +the opportunity of hearing me make a little speech in +my most perfect French, which I have just learnt by +heart.”</p> + +<p>“So you are really married!” Mary exclaimed incredulously. +“Gerald—Myrtile—how wonderful it +all seems!”</p> + +<p>“Amazing!” Gerald agreed. “Matrimony was evidently +my predestined Mecca. I am no longer ill. I +have never been so happy in my life. I was ploughing +for four hours yesterday, and practising approach +shots over the road to get rid of a little superfluous +energy after tea. What I really covet is the job of +Pierre, the head man, but Myrtile won’t listen to it. +She says I don’t understand the soil.”</p> + +<p>As they reached the house, the old curé came shuffling +out, beaming with smiles, delighted to find that +every one spoke his own language and that he could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>talk to them about Myrtile.—Luncheon was spread out +on the verandah, and Marie and a young friend from +the village, with great bunches of white carnations +fastened to their frocks, were waiting to serve. Gerald +himself uncorked the wine.</p> + +<p>“I propose to make a speech,” Lord Hinterleys announced, +holding out his foaming glass.</p> + +<p>“It must be a short one,” Gerald insisted. “The +omelette won’t wait.”</p> + +<p>“Then, as an omelette is my favourite dish and that +one appears to be a <i>chef-d’oeuvre</i>, I drop the speech,” +his father assented. “I will only say, Gerald, that you +have made Mary and me very happy, and that no bride +in the world was ever more welcome than Myrtile to our +home and lives.”</p> + +<p>Every one began to talk at once. By and by, that +curious sense of unreality, the feeling that the whole +thing was a scene out of an old-fashioned comedy, +passed away. Gerald, who was shamelessly holding +Myrtile’s hand under the tablecloth, raised his glass +and looked into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“It was I, after all,” he whispered, “who had no +idea what lay at the end of the road. You were the +wise lady and I the fool. You climbed, I pushed my +way through the slough—but we found out.”</p> + +<p>All through the afternoon the villagers came and +went, and the young people danced in the field at the +back of the farm. Many toasts were exchanged. Every +one was extraordinarily happy. Then the time came +for Christopher, who was on his way back to England, +to leave. Mary, who was spending the night with her +father at Cannes, walked with him to the road. They +paused for a moment at the gate.</p> + +<p>“And it was really here that you found Myrtile?” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>Mary remarked, looking around her with interest.</p> + +<p>“We found her on this very spot,” Christopher answered, +“gazing along the road to the hills. All her +life she had wondered what lay on the other side. Many +of us never find out. I think that Gerald has been very +fortunate.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad that you are happy about it,” she said, +with quiet but tactful significance.</p> + +<p>“It is because I am happy about it,” Christopher +rejoined, turning towards her, “that I am going to +venture—that, Mary—well, I think I feel a little +like the man who walked for a few minutes of his life +in the moonlight and fancied that it was day. I honestly +thought that I was in love with Myrtile. I know +now that there is no one I ever really cared for but you, +Mary.”</p> + +<p>She raised her head and looked at him, yielding unresistingly +to the arm which was drawn around her.</p> + +<p>“I am quite sure,” she murmured, “that this is an +enchanted land.”</p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph3">NOVELS <i>by</i> E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“He is past master of the art of telling a story. +He has humor, a keen sense of the dramatic, and a +knack of turning out a happy ending just when the +complications of the plot threaten worse disasters.”—<i>The +New York Times.</i></p> + +<p>“Mr. Oppenheim has few equals among modern +novelists. He is prolific, he is untiring in the invention +of mysterious plots, he is a clever weaver of the +plausible with the sensational, and he has the necessary +gift of facile narrative.”—<i>The Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<table> +<tr><td>A Prince of Sinners</td><td> The Way of These Women</td></tr> +<tr><td>A Maker of History</td><td> The Kingdom of the Blind</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Man and His Kingdom</td><td> The Pawns Count</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Yellow Crayon</td><td> The Zeppelin’s Passenger</td></tr> +<tr><td>A Sleeping Memory</td><td> The Curious Quest</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Great Secret</td><td> The Wicked Marquis</td></tr> +<tr><td>Jeanne of the Marshes</td><td> The Box with Broken Seals</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Lost Ambassador</td><td> The Great Impersonation</td></tr> +<tr><td>A Daughter of the Marionis</td><td> The Devil’s Paw</td></tr> +<tr><td>Havoc</td><td> Jacob’s Ladder</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Lighted Way</td><td> The Profiteers</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Survivor</td><td> Nobody’s Man</td></tr> +<tr><td>A People’s Man</td><td> The Great Prince Shan</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Vanished Messenger</td><td> The Evil Shepherd</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Seven Conundrums</td><td> The Mystery Road</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="ph3">Boston LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY Publishers</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + +<p>Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> + +<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> +</div></div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77836 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77836-h/images/cover.jpg b/77836-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe590a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/77836-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77836-h/images/coversmall.jpg b/77836-h/images/coversmall.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..069e20d --- /dev/null +++ b/77836-h/images/coversmall.jpg diff --git a/77836-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/77836-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b938662 --- /dev/null +++ b/77836-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/77836-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/77836-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfbe645 --- /dev/null +++ b/77836-h/images/titlepage.jpg diff --git a/77836-h/images/titlepagelogo.jpg b/77836-h/images/titlepagelogo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..07171d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/77836-h/images/titlepagelogo.jpg |
