Raife's passion for Gilda had been as sudden as it was fierce, and here,
in the solitude of this strange white room, he allowed his pent-up
feelings to obtain the mastery of him. Twisegood having closed the
door, Raife paced up and down the long room with rapid strides,
reiterating his admiration for her beauty. At length, he decided to
return to Aldborough Park. On his way he sent a telegram and eagerly
awaited a reply on the following morning, but no reply arrived.
The thousand and one details that surround the funeral of the head of an
old family are very trying to those who are responsible for the dignity
of the function and its safe conduct. Raife had been sorely tried in
his position as the new head of the family.
At last the ceremony was completed and most of the mourners had returned
to their homes. With a haste that attracted attention, at least, in
some quarters, he went to Southport, and then called at the "Queen's,"
and, having asked for Miss Tempest, was rather surprised when the
hall-porter handed him a note. He hastily tore it open and read:
"Dear Mr Remington--Our friendship is forbidden. For your sake--and
for mine--forget me.
"Gilda Tempest."
The keenness of a young man's passion is only enhanced by obstacles.
Mystified and baffled, Raife yet repeated his resolve to find the girl
who had enthralled him.
Many weeks passed by at Aldborough Park, where the bailiffs and stewards
of the estates foregathered with the solicitors of the family for the
purpose of installing the new regime. Raife was somewhat impatient of
the tedious nature of much of the work. To get away from the monotony,
he hid himself several times in the long white room of the "Blue Boar."
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 up to the Park, and no one knew
where to find you. I guessed you were a bit tired of parchments and
documents, so I took my chance of finding you here. I asked old
Twisegood, but he wouldn't give you away. But, somehow, I thought his
manner was a bit strange, so I thought of the loose box and the old
stairway--and here I am!"
"Good! I'm glad to see you, Mutimer. You were quite right, I'm tired
to death of parchments, leases and settlements, and I've been coming
here lately to get away from them. We've had some fun in this old room
when we were kids, haven't we? Twisegood's a rare good sort, too. He
never gave us away."
"Well, I say, Raife, I didn't altogether come here to disturb you for
nothing," said Mutimer. "I think I've got some news for you. I
couldn't help noticing how keen you were on that girl we met one day at
Southport."
"Yes! yes! Go on! Gilda Tempest is her name. Where is she?" almost
shouted Raife, as he leapt from his chair, grasping Mutimer's arms with
a grip that made his friend wince.
"Easy all, old chap, a little bit softer. I think I know where she is.
You know she was staying with her uncle at the `Queen's.' Well, they
left there quite suddenly, just after your governor died. I was at the
railway station and saw her and her uncle. They had not much luggage.
As I was at the booking-office window, I heard the old man whisper to
her: `When we get to town we must wire for rooms. Nice is a busy place,
and the Hotel Royal is liable to be crowded.'"
"Thanks for what you've told me. Mutimer, I'm just crazy over that
girl. I'll follow her to the ends of the earth, but she shall be mine.
Yes, by jove! Gilda Tempest shall be mine. Mutimer! I'm not a
murderer by nature, but I could slay the man who gets between me and
that woman."
"By the by, Raife," said his friend, apparently disregarding the
confession of love, "did anything come to light over your governor's
dying words. It was something about a `trap,' and there was a woman in
it, wasn't there?"
"No! nothing came to light. It looks as though I've got a very
first-class family skeleton in my cupboard." Raife said this
reflectively, rather sadly. Then, bracing himself up, he exclaimed:
"It'll take several skeletons to scare me, however. I don't think I'm
either timid or nervous."
"Ha! ha! Well, now for a trip to Nice," he added, with a
don't-care-a-hang air, "and be bothered to the lawyers for a time. I'll
find Gilda Tempest. I swear I will, and her old uncle can be hanged for
a meddlesome old ass."
It was in March when the young baronet, who in such tragic circumstances
had just inherited large estates and twenty thousand pounds a year,
arrived at the Hotel Royal, on the Promenade des Anglais, at Nice.
His mother, the widowed Lady Remington, accompanied him. Having
disposed of her ladyship in a cosy corner among the palms, Raife started
on his hot-headed search for Gilda. He was not long disappointed, for
in the big lounge of the hotel, not crowded at this moment, he saw
Gilda, exquisitely dressed, and accompanied by a distinguished-looking
old man.
The old gentleman was Doctor Danilo Malsano--the uncle of Gilda Tempest.
Doctor Malsano was tall, and there was a certain air of distinction
about him. A superficial graciousness of manner disguised from the
casual observer the sinister cast of his countenance.
He had long black hair, receding from a high forehead, leaving two
circular, bald patches on either side. A powerful jaw, and somewhat
hollow cheeks, with glittering white teeth and small ears, completed the
clean-shaven appearance, with the exception of his eyes and bushy
eyebrows.
More has been written on the subject of eyes than of any other portion
of human anatomy, but Doctor Malsano's eyes were unique. At a glance
they suggested a squint. Here was neither a squint nor an aggravated
form of astigmatism. The right eye was of a steely blue, that pierced
the observer with the sharpness of a gimlet. The left eye was a swivel
eye, and served the purpose of preventing one from determining which eye
was gazing at you. There is a certain type of Scotch sheep-dog which
possesses eyes of the colour of the doctor's left eye. It is almost
colourless, and with a dark spot in the centre of the right iris.
The doctor's striking appearance contrasted strongly with the fragile
beauty of the fair-haired young girl, with the eyes of deep-blue, who
walked by his side: narrow-waisted, delicate and slim, with a
well-poised head on a rounded neck of alabaster whiteness. Raife
devoured this vision with his eyes before crossing the foyer to her.
The whole charm of the striking personality of the young girl was
enhanced by that distinguished grace of style that characterises the
refined in temperament. Raife crossed over to her and, with a bow,
claimed her acquaintance. Gilda politely but frigidly declined the
acquaintance, informing Raife that he was mistaken.
Raife was astounded--staggered. Accepting the situation that had just
been dealt to him, and with flaming cheeks smarting from the blow, so
sudden and unexpected, he left the hotel by the main entrance and joined
the throng of promenaders.
His thoughts lingered on the insult he had encountered. He fancied he
had detected a sneer on Doctor Malsano's countenance. Rage and wounded
vanity possessed him. At the table d'hote he was distrait, and sorely
puzzled Lady Remington with his absent-minded attentions and disjointed
conversation. Seeking the first opportunity of escaping his mother's
over-anxious regard for his health and spirits, he again found his way
into the open air and avoided the crowd. Finding a secluded bench under
a group of palms and surrounded by brilliant blossom, he sat down and
sought repose in the solace of a choice Habana cigar. It was a secluded
spot, and the depths of shadow from foliage were rendered more
mysterious by the vivid yet luscious moonlight that flooded the
countryside. Long he gazed in front of him, still smarting under that
stinging snub that had, at the same time, wounded him sorely and enraged
him. The latest heir of the Reymingtounes of Aldborough was not of the
stuff to court a snub or endure it. Rage alternated with crumpled
dignity, and he fumed, puffing his Habana viciously the while. He had
sat there a long time, until the few strollers, who had found themselves
near this secluded corner, seemed to have returned to the warmth of
house or hotel.
Raife threw the end of his cigar far in front of him, and, rising from
the bench, crossed the promenade and leant against a railing. He
shivered slightly, for a March night in Nice may be chilly, even
treacherously so. Thus musing, he glanced at one of those
daintily-illustrated little pamphlets that advertise the resorts of the
Riviera. A thought flashed through his mind. His father's last words,
as he lay dying from the assassin's revolver, came to him. "I was a
fool, Edgson. I ought to have told my boy from the first. Every man
has a skeleton in his cupboard. This is mine." And the last haunting
words of all came to him:
"Beware of the trap--she--that woman."
Why had this beautiful young girl come into his life at such a tragic
time? Could it be possible? No! Perish the thought. Nothing but good
could come from that sweet countenance that had enthralled him from the
first glance. But, then, who was this uncle, Doctor Malsano? The very
name was evil-sounding, and, in spite of his distinguished air, that
swivel eye, with much else of his striking countenance, was sinister.
Raife now felt certain that he had recognised a sneer on the man's
face--a malicious sneer, when Gilda had snubbed him.
These long minutes in that full flood of southern moonlight were fraught
with much that might be good--or bad--for Sir Raife Remington, Bart. In
spite of his passionate outburst in the long white room of the "Blue
Boar," at Tunbridge Wells; in spite of his vehemently-declared intention
to win that beautiful girl for his wife--or die--he was possessed of a
premonition of danger ahead. Again his father's dying words rang in his
ears, and the blood-stained chamber, the scene in his ancestral hall of
his father's cruel murder, came vividly before him, and he was tempted
to "beware of the trap."
In such mood he turned on his heel and sauntered yet a little farther
from the Hotel Royal, where he was staying with his bereaved mother.
The southern lands are the lands of intrigue and mystery. They are the
lands of deepest nights and brightest days, and that alternating
intensity enters into the characters of the peoples who inhabit them.
As Raife was lighting a second cigar, he was vaguely conscious of a
young boy or girl who dodged in the shadows behind him. The strongest
man likes to meet his friends face to face, but a potential foe lurking
in shadows on a moonlight night in a southern land, is disconcerting.
Watching an opportunity, therefore, Raife wheeled suddenly around, and
making a dash for the youngster, secured him. The young girl, who
appeared to be about thirteen years of age, did not seem alarmed, but
smiled seductively, saying: "Signor Raife! meet a preety signora. Meea
take you there."
At the same time, the girl handed Raife a piece of paper on which was
written:
"Quite safe. Follow the girl."
Again those words of warning from his dying father.
Was this the trap.
In his present mood he did not care, and welcomed an adventure even if
it should be dangerous.
He followed the little girl.