TO BE IN TIME.
"It is plain enough to me," Silva growled; "but then I am acquainted
with the facts of which you two know nothing. With all his faults,
Count Flavio was passionately attached to his little girl. Through her
he could see a means of stabbing his wife to the heart, and he was
never the man to hesitate where a piece of refined cruelty was
concerned. He arranged that kidnapping himself."
"Incredible," Mrs. Delahay cried. "And why?"
"Have I not just told you so?" Silva went on. "You remember Count
Flavio and his brother twenty years ago? You recollect what a handsome
man he was? No one was more popular or sought after. No one was more
pleasing and fascinating. But behind that fair exterior was the nature
and disposition of a devil. Oh, I knew it before that unhappy marriage
took place. And that was why I insisted upon accompanying Signora
Carlotta when she fled with the count. It was not long before she
found him out. It was not long before he began to employ the petty
tyrannies which poisoned her life and made existence almost
unendurable. I have stood behind his chair when guests have been
present. I have seen his clever simulation of affection, whilst all
the time he was saying things that wound sensitive women and drive
them to despair. Many a time I have been tempted to thrust a knife
between his shoulders. More than once I have had my hand upon a blade.
But if I stayed here all night I could not sum up the catalogue of
that man's diabolical cruelties. And when at length he paid the
penalty of his crime, I stood by my mistress, and saved her from a
felon's grave. It was hard work, for everything was so cunningly laid
that my mistress stood convicted from the very first. Perhaps Count
Boris reckoned upon an untimely end. At any rate, all his servants,
and the greater part of his tenantry, followed one another in the
witness-box and gave him the character of a saint, whilst his wife was
painted in the blackest colours. But for a little scheme of mine, she
would have been convicted beyond the shadow of a doubt. Still, we are
getting away from the point. I was going to prove to you how I knew
that the Count had arranged for his daughter to be kidnapped before
his death. Some time previous to his marriage one of his greatest
friends was an English nobleman, called Lord Ravenspur. Quite by
accident, a few months before the tragedy, I saw a letter which the
Count had written to Lord Ravenspur imploring the latter to give him a
secret interview at once. In that letter the most horrible charges
were levelled against the Countess. But we need not go into those now.
I managed to get hold of the reply to the letter, and I had no
scruples in reading it. Mind you, I did not think then that there was
a plot on foot to kidnap the child, and I was prevented from attending
the interview owing to the cunning of the Count, and within a few
weeks afterwards I had plenty of things to occupy my attention, so
that those letters were forgotten. And so things went on for years,
until I heard from the Countess again, and I found that she knew
nothing of her child. Oh, I have made no secret of my feelings in that
matter. I have spoken quite freely tonight."
Silva paused for a moment, and wiped his heated face.
"From that time forward," he went on, "I have devoted myself almost
exclusively to my search for the child. It did not occur to me till
comparatively recently that Lord Ravenspur had had anything to do with
it. In fact, that nobleman's name had quite gone out of my mind. I
heard him spoken of from time to time as a great artist. I am fond of
pictures myself, and about three years ago I went into a private view
in Bond Street, and there I saw a face which attracted my attention.
It was the head of a young girl precisely what little Vera would have
been by that time. The more I studied those features, the more
convinced was I that here was the object of my search. And when I
asked the name of the artist, I was told that it was none other than
Lord Ravenspur.
"Then it came upon me like a flash that my search was at an end. The
recollection of those letters came to me; then I knew as plainly as
possible that, at the instigation of the Count, Lord Ravenspur had
taken the child away. Those two were in league together. But the one
who still lives shall not escape his punishment. I will see to that."
"But are you quite sure?" the countess asked eagerly. "Have you seen
Vera? Does she live with Lord Ravenspur?
"That I don't quite know," Silva said. "I have hung about the house; I
was determined to find out things for myself without raising
suspicions in the minds of the servants. I gradually discovered what
the household consisted of. On and off for the last two years I have
watched and waited, but I saw no sign of anybody resembling the girl
of whom I was in search. And gradually I began to think that I had
made a mistake. Business took me away to the North for some months,
and when I came back again I put in a day or two more in Park Lane in
the faint hope that I might be rewarded at last. And I was. At length
I saw her. And now you know where your daughter is to be found if you
want to see her again. I am perhaps wrong to tell you this----"
"But where had she been?" the Countess exclaimed.
"Ah, it is easy to be wise after the event," Silva said. "She had been
at school on the Continent for the past three years, and that is why
all my efforts ended in failure. I did not mean to tell you this. I
meant to have kept it to myself as a punishment for your heartless
conduct all these years. But I must own that your arguments impressed
me. I can see now how the child would have reminded you of her father.
And that is why I have said so much. But, at the same time, this thing
has been an indignity to the family which I cannot overlook. Lord
Ravenspur will have to pay the price of his audacity. Blood is thicker
than water----"
Silva appeared as if he would have said more. But he checked himself,
and his words died away in low mutterings. In some respects it seemed
to Mrs. Delahay that the man was sane enough. In other matters she was
convinced that he was little better than a dangerous lunatic. Were
they on the eve of another dreadful tragedy, she asked herself, or was
this man merely uttering vapouring threats when he spoke in this
fashion of Lord Ravenspur?
"You will do nothing rash?" she said.
A queer smile flickered about the corners of Silva's lips. His eyes
were glittering like stars.
"Oh, I will do nothing rash," he said significantly. "I have been
brought up in the wrong school for that. When we South Italians take
our vengeance, we strike and strike hard. But it is done in the dark,
so that the right hand does not know what the left is doing. But we
never forget, and we never forgive."
Silva turned on his heel, and walked slowly and thoughtfully away. The
Countess called for him to come back, but he took no heed. He might
have been deaf to the sound of her voice.
"It doesn't matter," she said; "at any rate, I shall know where to
find him again. But are you not coming back with me?"
"I think not," Mrs. Delahay said. "It is getting very late, and I must
be returning to my hotel. But, if you like, I will come and see you
again, only it must be stealthily and in the dark. You will quite see
the advisability of our not being much together till this cruel
mystery has been cleared up."
They parted at the corner of the street, and Mrs. Delahay continued
her way slowly, always keeping the figure of Silva in sight. An
impulse to follow him had suddenly seized her, though she had said
nothing of this to her sister. She recollected vividly enough now the
words that had passed between Silva and Stevens as to Lord Ravenspur,
and the things that were going to happen tonight. For all she knew to
the contrary, she might be the means of preventing another tragedy.
She felt almost sure of this presently as Silva turned into Park Lane,
and pulled up before Lord Ravenspur's house.
The street was quite deserted, so that the man had no great need for
caution. He stood there just a moment longer; then coolly entered the
garden by way of a side gate. Apparently he had come prepared for
this. He let himself into the garden with a key. Very cautiously Maria
Delahay followed. She noticed how dark the garden was, the shadows
being all the more dense by reason of the blaze of light which came
filtering through the glass dome of the studio. Though the glass was
stained, and it was impossible to see through, the light inside was
strong and steady.
Half hidden behind a bush the watcher waited developments. Presently
she heard Silva creep cautiously to the side of the studio. Then, a
moment later, to her amazement, she saw that he was slowly climbing to
the top of the dome, by means of one of the ribs in the roof. The man
appeared to be as lithe and active as a cat. The smallest foothold
seemed to suffice him. He made his way to the top of the dome, and
Mrs. Delahay could see him peering in curiously. He stood just for a
moment debating.
There was no time for further hesitation. It was very late now.
Probably all the household had gone to bed, and doubtless Lord
Ravenspur was alone in the studio. She knew something of his habits
from her husband. Without a moment's hesitation she flew back into the
road, and ran to the front door of the house.
She pressed the button of the bell. She could hear the ripple right
through the house. It seemed to her as if no one was ever coming. Then
presently there was the sound of a footstep inside, and the door was
flung open by Walter Lance.
"Not a moment," she gasped. "Get to the studio at once."