28 chapters
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Selected Chapters
28 chapters
Chapter One.
Chapter One.
“No. I mean the girl in black. The one leading the pom.” “By jove! Yes. She’s uncommonly smart, isn’t she?” “Her friend isn’t half bad-looking, either?” “I don’t think so very much of her, Raife. But Southport at this time of year is always full of pretty girls.” “Not one of them can compare with the girl in black—she’s ripping!” declared Raife Remington, a tall, well-set up, dark-haired, hatless undergraduate, who, in grey flannels, was walking beside his college chum, Edward Mutimer, at whose
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Chapter Two.
Chapter Two.
“Oh, sir, I—I—I can’t tell you over the ’phone,” replied the old servant. “Her ladyship has forbidden us to say anything at all.” “But, Edgson, surely I may know!” cried the young man, frantically. “We thought you were on your way home, sir,” the butler replied. “Can’t you come, Master Raife?” “Yes, of course, I’m leaving now—at once. But I’m anxious to know what has happened.” “Come home, sir, and her ladyship will tell you.” “Go at once and say that I am at the ’phone,” Raife ordered, angrily.
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Chapter Three.
Chapter Three.
In the dead man’s vest-pocket he found the return half of a first-class ticket from Charing Cross to Tunbridge Wells, issued four days previously, while in one of the trousers-pockets were four sovereigns, some silver, and in the other a bunch of skeleton keys, together with a small, leather pocket-case containing some strange-looking little steel tools, beautifully finished—the last word in up-to-date instruments for safe-breaking. Raife, holding them in his hand, carried them to the window and
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Chapter Four.
Chapter Four.
“Now, Mr Kellaway,” said Raife, when they were alone together in the library, and the young baronet had explained what had occurred. “You have been my father’s very intimate friend, as well as his solicitor for many years. I want to ask you a simple question. Are you aware that my father held a secret—some secret of the past?” “Not to my knowledge, Mr Raife—or Sir Raife, as I suppose I ought to call you now,” was the sombre, and rather sad, man’s reply. “Well, he had a secret,” exclaimed Raife,
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Chapter Five.
Chapter Five.
Through her sobs Lady Remington spoke in a low, sweet voice. “Leave me, now, Miss Hope. You have been very kind. Thank you so much. You cannot do any more for me! I must fight this grief alone.” There was no angularity of movement, no austerity of countenance now in Miss Hope. Her very voice assumed a softness that would have seemed strange to those who were only familiar with the mental mask she had so long worn in public. She started towards the door, and held it half open. Then, closing it ag
21 minute read
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Chapter Six.
Chapter Six.
He was sitting there, one afternoon, deeply abstracted and cursing the luck that had robbed him of that mysterious girl whom he loved, when he heard footsteps on the secret stairway that led to loose box in the stable. Hastily drawing the white curtain aside by opening the little door, he was confronted by his old college chum, Edward Mutimer, in whose company he had been when he met Gilda Tempest. “Why,” he exclaimed, “what are you doing here, Mutimer?” Mutimer laughed, and said: “Well, I went
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Chapter Seven.
Chapter Seven.
The girl, with a sob, replied: “Sir Raife, don’t ask me any questions. Trust me. It is very hard for me—but don’t ask questions. Let us walk back along the Promenade des Anglais.” Then, dreamily, as if to herself, she added: “Yes—the promenade of the English. We are English. At least, there is no doubt that you are. I sometimes wonder what I am.” They walked together until they reached the promenade again. There, under the light of a street-lamp, they renewed their talk. He, still interrogative,
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Chapter Eight.
Chapter Eight.
The maid returned to Gilda’s room and handed the bunch of keys to her, saying: “The Signor send you his keys with ze great pleasure—Signorina.” The Southern man and matron smile so often that one cannot always separate the smiles and decide which is cynical, and which is gracious or friendly. The maid retired, smiling. Gilda took the keys and gazed at them. Then, with a fondling grasp, she handled them—murmuring the while: “These are Raife’s keys—the keys of Aldborough Park.” Gazing into space,
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Chapter Nine.
Chapter Nine.
His whole life’s blood should go out to this woman, whom he loved with a passion that belonged to a fierce nature. Yet at every pace or revolution in the progress of their intimacy there was a dark passage, a sinister obstacle. The dignified uncle repelled him, although he, apparently, was fascinating his stately and severely exclusive mother. The forbidding figure of the Apache had completed, for a while, his sense of depression. The happiest people were, apparently, Lady Remington, the doctor—
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Chapter Ten.
Chapter Ten.
Haunted and hunted, deprived of all real companionship save that of this conspirator criminal who called himself her uncle, Gilda’s courage failed for a brief while. Falling on to the lounge, covered with dainty dimity, which was at the foot of the bed she must soon vacate, this fragile girl, whose nerves had stood her in good stead so many times, sobbed. Yes! hunted from place to place. Hunted by fear of a Nemesis that pursued unrelentingly. When the entrance hall was practically deserted and t
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Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Eleven.
His mother readily concurred, feeling it would be good to change the scene of action for a while. Then she added: “Yes, but I expect there’s a good deal for you to do still, at Aldborough.” The Count’s car pulled up in front of the door of the quaint little house in the side street, on the evening of the day when Fortune seemed to have snatched Gilda Tempest from the jaws of danger. She had dressed with an assumed jauntiness, hoping to match the costume of the benign and buxom landlady, who had
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Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Twelve.
Perhaps no festival was treated with greater respect and ceremony than that of “St. Partridge.” On the first of September, through the centuries, the line of shooters with the dogs and gamekeepers, have set forth in search of the “birds” that until this day had been so jealously guarded. The Aldborough estates have always been strictly preserved and famed for partridge and pheasant alike. At eventime, when the shooters had returned from the prolonged and sometimes tiring sport, the fine old Tudo
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Chapter Thirteen.
Chapter Thirteen.
In spite of the blue glasses the old man’s face assumed a contorted expression of anger that was hateful to behold. Grasping her arm with a vicious grip, he almost shrieked: “Again I tell you, you lie! Where are they? You dare not tell me you have bungled after all the care I took.” “Hush!” she whispered. “You will be heard. Yes! I bungled.” Then this innocent-looking old lady told the events of the previous night at Aldborough Park, for it was Gilda Tempest disguised with consummate craft. The
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Chapter Fourteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
The soft light from the shaded lamp fell on her lovely form. A pink glow suffused her bare arms and heaving breast. The jewels that decked her sparkled, and her wonderful, lustrous eyes looked at him with a strange, tender look as she uttered those last words, “Now that you are mine.” He answered: “Yes, Gilda, I am yours.” There seemed to be still some sense of foreboding, in spite of all the happiness of the last two weeks and the luxurious gaiety of their present surroundings. The spirit of th
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Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fifteen.
“Well, I take you at your word, but please listen to me to the end.” Raife dispensed the drinks and Herrion proceeded: “The man we chased last night was one of a gang of burglars. I had word they were making an attempt on Gildersley House, which contains a lot of valuable property, and there is jewellery and plate, too. I was right. Somehow, we did not succeed in catching them. When I seized you, I did not, of course, recognise you, and I thought you were one of the gang.” Raife intervened. “I t
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Chapter Sixteen.
Chapter Sixteen.
Hilda Muirhead was not more than twenty. In some respects she had the knowledge and experience of a woman of thirty. In other respects she was a simple ingénue , with the attractive grace of a gazelle-like child. The latter was her natural mood and attitude. The former had been acquired and thrust upon her by the bitterness of cruel experience at an immature period of her life. She had a gift of talk, and the charm of her conversation won for her the attention which invariably ended in admiratio
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Chapter Seventeen.
Chapter Seventeen.
When Mr Muirhead looked up Raife’s ancestry in the morning, he was not sorry to learn that Raife was descended from the Tudor and Elizabethan Reymingtounes. He had just completed this operation when they met Raife in the foyer. They greeted one another with cordiality, and Mr Muirhead induced Raife, without much difficulty, to join them in an expedition. Hilda was divinely beautiful at the dinner of the previous night. On this morning, riding in the bright sunlight, she was radiant. The reserve
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Chapter Eighteen.
Chapter Eighteen.
Then, archly, Hilda said: “Then I need not run away?” Impetuously he exclaimed, striking the table with the palm of his hand: “Run away! If you do I shall follow you. Follow you? Yes, to the end of the world, for Hilda you have made me love you.” “Hush! don’t talk like that, Raife. In America boys and girls, men and women, can be friends—just friends.” In spite of these brave words, her breast was heaving and her pulses throbbed. “Let us go back now,” she added. “This has troubled me and I must
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Chapter Nineteen.
Chapter Nineteen.
Gilda turned on him with an expression fierce and defiant. For many seconds neither spoke. Then, urbanely, the doctor murmured soothingly: “Come, Gilda! Let me help you in your trouble. What is the reason of your distress?” The girl stood erect, throbbing with intense emotion. Again there was a long silence. Then, bursting into sobs again, she pointed to the newspaper and said, “Read that. See! See what you have done. You have made me a robber, and now you have robbed me of the only desire I hav
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Chapter Twenty.
Chapter Twenty.
Raife almost ran down the staircase, and, bursting into the room, called out cheerily to Hilda and her father: “Come along, good folks, and meet my dear old mother. She is upstairs and awaits you.” The close scrutiny of the servants was easy to bear. Hilda’s heart fluttered as they climbed the wide old staircase and entered the library. Lady Remington was standing to receive them. Raife started to present them. “Mother, this is—” He did not finish. Hilda, with a charming impulse, had crossed the
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Chapter Twenty One.
Chapter Twenty One.
Those who live under foreign flags are naturally attracted to their fellow-countrymen when they happen to meet. Hilda Muirhead was supremely happy in her love for Raife Remington, and he in turn, was satisfied in their mutual devotion. It was unfortunate, therefore, that Raife should have overheard Hilda’s genuine and impulsive utterance as she and the injured man met for the first time on the terrace after his recovery from the accident. “Well now, sakes alive, it’s good to hear your voice, Mr
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Chapter Twenty Two.
Chapter Twenty Two.
They had talked lightly of many things. Most of their conversation pertained to the beauty of everything around. Hilda had thrown away the paper that she had found under the window of her bedroom, but in spite of her determination to forget the incident, some strange impulse impelled her to allude to it now, although many days had passed. So she said: “Oh, I say, Raife! In my room, the first night I was here, I picked up a piece of paper. On it was typewritten something like this: ‘It is dangero
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Chapter Twenty Three.
Chapter Twenty Three.
The title came strangely to Hilda’s lips as she spoke into the receiver: “I am Lady Remington. You may remember something about the disappearance of Sir Raife Remington some time ago.” Then she added, and again the title sounded strange: “Sir Raife Remington is my husband, you know. Well, I have got some news, what you call a clue, and I would like very much to see Mr Herrion, if possible. I shall be at the house in Green Street, Mayfair, all day. I wonder if he could call?” Then, as the receive
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Chapter Twenty Four.
Chapter Twenty Four.
By a devious route they returned to the flat. Raife was very silent. Gilda played and sang to him, but it was of no avail, his moodiness lasted for the rest of the evening. She rallied him on his silence and, crossing the room to where he sat on a lounge, said: “Raife, tell me why you are so silent. Did that man Herrion upset you?” He answered, wearily: “Yes, he did. It has set me thinking, Gilda. I fear I have not done the right thing. It is not right that I should be ‘wanted’ by a man like Her
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Chapter Twenty Five.
Chapter Twenty Five.
“Come in, Mr Vachelle, or, as I may call you in here, Sir Raife,” added the doctor. Raife was not in the mood to be trifled with and snapped out: “I’m not so sure of that. I heard what you said to that fellow Denoir just now.” “ Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re ” was the doctor’s motto in business, and unctuously he replied: “Ah! that was nothing. The fellow was in a rage. You thrashed him and, naturally, he doesn’t like it. I only said that to soothe him. He knows a good deal, and can be danger
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Chapter Twenty Six.
Chapter Twenty Six.
Gilda trembled with well-simulated apprehension, stammering: “Mais non, monsieur. There is no one here, sir. This is the flat, the apartment of Monsieur Vachelle. I am alone cleaning things up. But enter, sir, and you shall see.” The two police officers entered, and searched each room. In the front room Herrion noticed the four liqueur glasses and the decanter of cognac. Approaching the table on which they stood, he held one of the glasses in his hand and remarked: “So, so! Monsieur Vachelle has
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Chapter Twenty Seven.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
At intervals around this central, circular apartment, were several doorways, covered by rich and heavy curtains, of that rare oriental colour, which our manufacturers strive, with mixed success, to imitate, at prices that suit the varying purses of a bank clerk or a greengrocer, a stockbroker or an art student. Before each doorway stood two huge Nubian Arabs, robed in kaftans of yellow ochre-coloured silk, and wearing fezes of that deep, luscious red, the colour of which does not find a name in
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Chapter Twenty Eight.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
The taxi stopped at a corner of a street, and they alighted. Seven or eight men were secreted in doorways, and the sergeant approached each one separately and gave them whispered instructions. Herrion’s position was quite unofficial, but his popularity with the police of Paris had made it possible for him to be present and to participate in the “round-up,” or coup. The author of the anonymous letter to the Paris police was Doctor Malsano. Raife had ceased to be useful, and his influence over Gil
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