The doctor entered and Gilda handed them to him. Those keys of
Aldborough Park, obtained by subterfuge from Raife--! With a snarl the
doctor snatched them and left the room. When Gilda Tempest slept a calm
sleep, without which beauty will not last, Raife Remington tossed and
turned on his bed of unrest. The excitement of the renewed meeting with
Gilda had, to an extent, subsided, and in the feverish hours that
followed, his mind coursed through all the dramatic events of the last
few months. His sense of reason strove hard to rescue him from a mad
passion--a passion that every worldly instinct told him would lead to
ruin--worse than ruin--death. Yes! death. An inglorious, profitless
death.
Doctor Danilo Malsano sat in his room at the Hotel Royal. A small phial
was on the table that faced him. He picked it up and swallowed the
contents. His convulsed face presently resumed a more normal, a more
peaceful expression. It was a soothing drug that he had taken--one to
which he was well accustomed. The soft rays of the red-shaded electric
lamp suffused the room, the oval mirror on the dressing-table reflected
a saturnine, yet smiling countenance.
The doctor spoke in a whisper to himself, each short sentence was
succeeded by a chortle, a subdued chuckle. "The arm of coincidence is
long! The cursed Anglo-Saxon is proud--very proud, but he is a very
simple fool. One of them is dead. It may be this young fool's turn
next. Gilda loves him, too. That is a pity. Yet it must be."
These soft-spoken reflections, with the drug, seemed to pacify the
perturbed mind of this extraordinary man, and he appeared to doze for a
while. Presently he sprang to his feet and his frame displayed
surprising activity. Taking Raife's keys in one hand, he opened a
valise, from which it was evident that he had travelled much. Yet the
labels of hotels, cities, and townships had been so cleverly
manipulated, that they were hard to decipher. Opening the valise, he
produced some wax, on which, with the dexterity of a practised hand, he
took the impressions of the keys of Aldborough Park.
It was late when the doctor had completed his task. The first grey
streaks of dawn crept through the long curtained windows, as he
stealthily opened the door of his room. Surveying the silent corridor
with care, he stole stealthily to Gilda's room and tapped gently. The
frightened girl, accustomed to the strange demands of her uncanny uncle,
replied with surprising promptitude.
He hastily thrust Raife's keys into her hand, muttering: "Give these
back to the young fool, and see to it you don't lose your head. I will
meet you in the coffee-room at ten o'clock, and you can introduce him to
me."
At ten o'clock on the morning following these occurrences which appeared
of such evil portent, Gilda Tempest, daintily clad in a light gown of
soft material in which chiffon seemed to predominate, walked into the
coffee-room of the hotel and took her seat at a table, laid for three,
next to a window which commanded a view of the Promenade des Anglais.
The doctor had planned the arrangement of this table with that
prescience which characterised all his movements. She had not been
seated many minutes, and was sipping some coffee--the coffee that, in
spite of modern facilities, seems to be only obtainable on the continent
of Europe, when Sir Raife Remington entered the room. He crossed to the
table at which Gilda was seated and greeted her.
To his pleasure and astonishment she said, heartily: "Good morning. Sir
Raife. Won't you take a seat at our table? I expect my uncle,
presently, and he will be very pleased to see you. First of all, let me
thank you for the loan of your keys. It was so distressing, I could not
find my keys anywhere, and, in desperation, I thought of your kind offer
to help me if I needed it."
Raife laughed heartily, and, taking a seat opposite to her, said:
"Please don't thank me for a small thing like that. I meant, more
especially, I would like to help you in something big, as the Americans
would say--something real large, should the occasion arise."
Gilda appeared positively radiant on this bright, sunny morning, and her
soft, pleasing voice thrilled him as she said: "Did you get the keys
back? I sent them to your room by the chambermaid, and, do you know,
one of them just fitted the little trunk I wanted to open. It contained
this gown I'm wearing, and I've put it on in recognition of your
kindness to me in my distress."