Raife's flat in the Rue Lafayette, Paris, was, like most things in which
Doctor Malsano was concerned, cunningly contrived. Two adjacent flats
had been converted into one in such a manner that it was easy to enter
by one door and leave by another, each out of view of the other. The
people who foregathered there were not of the type that would have been
welcome at Aldborough Park or Green Street, Mayfair. Here, for the
first time, Raife met the Apache fellow at close quarters. His impulse
was to thrash him, but Mr Lesigne had most ingratiating manners, and
quickly assured Raife that he was on his side now, and, if it were
necessary to do any spying, it would be in Raife's interests, and not on
him. For diplomatic reasons, to avoid suspicion, Malsano lived by
himself, and rarely appeared in public, as was his custom, preferring to
direct operations rather than participate in them. For the same reason
it was considered advisable that Gilda Tempest should occupy an
apartment by herself.
Raife and Gilda found time to make many excursions together, to
Versailles, and various rural spots where there was, relatively, a small
chance of being recognised. On these occasions there was a certain
charm in Gilda's companionship which enthralled the young man, and he
was quite content to suffer the ill-effects of her pernicious society.
At night, in varying disguises, they spent much time at cafes, sitting
at the tables of the boulevards, sipping wine and liqueurs. That
waywardness, that Raife's mother had been afraid of, asserted itself,
and his love of adventure led him to participate in some of the minor
divertissements that the doctor planned for his own profit. In no
circumstances did Raife share in the plunder of these coups, nor would
he allow Gilda to act as decoy, or take active part in them. What he
did was with a sense of abandoned devilment. The restraint that Raife
was exercising over Gilda was weakening the doctor's power over her, and
he determined that it was time for him to bring about a still more
complete downfall of his enemy.
Among the members of the gang who called at Raife's flat when occasion
required, was an ex-officer of dragoons, who had seen some service along
the north coast of Africa. He was an extraordinary mixture of
braggadocio, and a certain suavity of manner which had considerable
charm until it was discovered that, whereas he could swear like a
trooper, he did lie like a pickpocket. In the natural sequence of
events he and Raife fell foul of one another. The quarrel culminated
when Raife discovered him at the flat paying court to Gilda, who
resented the attentions that were being forced upon her. The combat did
not last long, for Monsieur Denoir was not versed in boxing, and his
incompetence was soon made evident to him. It was a dangerous thing for
Raife to quarrel with a man of this type, but the whole conditions of
his recent life had made him quite reckless of consequences. Monsieur
Denoir, with a fine exhibition of graciousness, made amends, and awaited
time and opportunity. He did not have to wait long, for he found a
ready ally in the doctor.
Gilda and Raife were seated at their favourite table at the Cafe
Buonaventure, on a fine warm evening. Through a mirror Gilda's keen and
practised eyes saw a little old gentleman with grey hair and spectacles
surveying the tables. He was at the far end of the room. They were
seated among a crowd of merry, talkative folk, outside the cafe.
"Quick, Raife, we must go at once," she said, suddenly. With an
exhibition of that cat-like speed that she displayed when she slid down
the silken rope from the library window at Aldborough Park, she threw a
coin on the table, and slid around a corner, half dragging him with her.
"What's the matter, Gilda?" he asked.
"That little `old gentleman' at the end of the room was Herrion, and I
expect he's looking for you."
It had not occurred to Raife before, that he was being hunted, not by an
"Apache fellow," but by the smartest detective on the Continent. His
pride returned to him for a while, and he felt inclined to go and shake
Herrion by the hand--if Herrion would let him. That was indeed a
question. Who would shake him by the hand now?
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 Herrion."
Then Gilda was alarmed. This man was all she wanted to atone for a life
of misery. He must not be allowed to reflect. He was hers and must
remain hers.
A knock at the door terminated the scene for a time. Lesigne entered
and presented a note to Raife from Doctor Malsano. Whilst he was
reading the note, which was lengthy and called for a reply, she beckoned
Lesigne into another room. She spoke hurriedly, and with authority.
"Lesigne, you must get this notice into the _New York Herald_, Paris
edition. I don't know how, but you must do it--pay for it--do it,
somehow."
The little Lesigne bowed and smiled. "Mams'elle Gilda, what you tell
me, that I will do, if it cost me--yes, if it cost me my life. I am
devoted to your service."
Gilda was well aware of the little man's devotion. Whilst he was
speaking, she was writing:
"Sir Raife Remington and party left Marseilles to-day, en route for
the United States."
She smiled as she handed it to Lesigne, and gave him some money to meet
any contingent expense. Herrion would not miss this announcement, and
it would serve to put him on a wrong trail.
Doctor Malsano's letter was important. It planned a big coup at a house
in the Avenue des Champs Elysees. Paris is a city of fine streets and
avenues, and amongst the finest is the Avenue des Champs Elysees. With
a clever mixture of flattery and badinage, Malsano lured his victim into
taking a leading part in this crowning work of his folly. The houses of
the Champs Elysees are rich, and this brave stroke called for all the
organisation and resource of the band. Malsano himself would direct
operations. Denoir would be there, and to complete--Gilda would be
there. It was difficult and called for agility, courage and daring.
Raife, who possessed all these qualities, was to take the leading and
more active part, but he would be well supported.
Detective-Inspector Herrion was in his room in the obscure little Hotel
Villon. He was reading the Paris edition of the _New York Herald_, and
his face wore a puzzled expression. The notice that attracted his
attention read as follows:
"Sir Raife Remington and party left Marseilles to-day, en route for the
United States."
He reflected: "It's fifty to one Remington didn't put that notice in. I
wonder who did. It would take a lot of people in. It's clever enough
for that blackguard, Malsano. After that note on the cliffs, at Cromer,
he isn't going to tell us he's alive, at least, not in that way." He
took the telephone and rang up the _New York Herald_ office. He told
them who he was. Then he read the notice and asked: "Where did you get
that notice from?"
An American voice replied asking him to hold the wire. "The man who
took it in is not on duty, but the office-boy describes him as a little
man, dark, with a broad-brimmed hat, and a big, black necktie. He
looked like an artist from the Quartier Latin."