THE BARGAIN
Two days passed; and small as was Juliet's faith in Madame Veno, she
did not stir from the house lest the woman should telephone in her
absence.
The strain of constant suspense was like a screw tightening her nerves
to breaking point. Her irritation grew against Jack, who persisted in
warning her that she would repent her suspicions of Lyda Pavoya. To
his mind apparently the dancer's story accounted for everything. Lyda
had volunteered a statement that she had touched the safe after
Claremanagh opened it, and she had offered to give Sanders her own
fingerprints in order that they might be identified with those taken on
the door of the safe, the only ones found there with the exception of
the Duke's. Even this fact--that there should be no other marks
visible--didn't prejudice Jack against the Siren. According to
him--and (_he_ said) to Sanders--the _real_ thief or thieves had used
rubber gloves.
As for Sanders, he tried to calm the Duchess's impatience by assuring
her that everything possible was being done. He even had a theory.
But, of what comfort was that to her, as he refused to tell her what it
was until--or if--he could obtain positive proof? It hardly interested
Juliet that he should have cabled Monsieur Mayen and learned in reply
that there was no scratch on the duplicate ring given Mayen by Pat.
She hadn't for a moment supposed there would be! Of course it merely
made matters worse that Mayen should be left-handed, and that a
specimen seal he sent by cabled request should have an entirely
different appearance from those on the covering of the packet. Also,
it seemed stupid rather than intelligent that Defasquelle should be
watched. The detective admitted that the Frenchman seemed above
suspicion. He had begged the Duke to open the packet in his presence,
which alone proved his innocence, as Sanders couldn't help seeing.
Besides, the French police had replied to a wired demand for
Defasquelle's _dossier_, by saying that he was a person of unblemished
character. He appeared to deserve the trust reposed in him by Monsieur
Mayen; had saved up a little money and was engaged to a pretty girl
with a good _dot_, the daughter of a hotel keeper in Marseilles. Not
only that, Defasquelle was remaining in New York for the purpose of
giving what aid he could. Altogether, Juliet considered that Sanders'
activities were disappointing, and Jack's no better.
She refused to meet Lyda and talk with her in person as Jack advised
her to do, and between her sense of being deserted and her desperate
anxiety for the truth about Pat, she found more and more that her
thoughts clung to the broken reed of hope held out by Madame Veno.
At last, when she was making up her mind to see the woman again without
waiting longer, the message came.
Juliet was in the act of answering a letter from Nancy Van Esten,
begging her to be at the dress rehearsal for the "great show" which was
to benefit the Armenians. There was an undertone of friendly
insistence which Juliet understood very well. Nancy knew what people
were saying about Pat and Pavoya and the pearls. If
she--Juliet--refused to attend this rehearsal to which all her most
intimate "pals" were going, everyone would draw certain conclusions.
She hated to go, but had written to say that she'd "drop in about five
o'clock"--the rehearsal had to be in the afternoon, as the roof garden
theatre was wanted in the evening for the last night of a revue--when
the telephone bell rang almost in her ear. She picked up the receiver
from the writing table, and her heart leaped at the sound of Madame
Veno's voice.
"Is that you yourself, Duchess? Yes? Well, _he's here_! Can you come
around at once?"
"Yes," said Juliet, and putting down the receiver had begun to get
ready, when she remembered the letter which ought to be left for Jack.
There was no time, after all, to write details. She ought to have had
the note ready for emergencies, but it hadn't occurred to her till now.
Hurriedly she jotted down the address of Madame Veno and a request to
Jack to send there. Then, when she had scrawled "Captain Manners,
Tarascon Hotel," and sealed the envelope, the Duchess rang for her maid.
"I'm going out, Simone," she said. "It's now four-thirty. If I'm not
back by six-thirty it will mean that--that I must miss an appointment
with Captain Manners; so at that time take this to his hotel yourself.
He tells me that he's always at home between six-thirty and
seven-thirty, so he's sure to be there. But if not, you can ring up
Mr. Sanders at his private address, which I'll jot down for you, and
ask him to call for Captain Manners' letter which concerns his business
as well. I expect to come in much sooner, however--in which case you
will simply hand this envelope back to me. You quite understand?"
"I quite understand, _Madame la Duchesse_," echoed Simone, pinning on
her mistress's hat, and handing her a pair of gloves.
So well did she understand that, the moment Juliet was out of the house
(the car having been ordered), she examined the back of the said
envelope. In her hurry Juliet had not sealed it firmly. The flap was
still wet, and came loose with almost ridiculous ease.
Simone had been somewhat surprised by the Duchess's instructions (her
reason for wishing to acquaint herself with the contents of the letter)
but she was still more surprised by the letter itself.
The Duchess was going to Madame Veno's, evidently to keep an engagement
already made, and it would seem that she considered herself in some
danger. Could Madame Veno mean to give away Mademoiselle Amaranthe's
connection with the _Inner Circle_?
Simone told herself that this was an absurd and far-fetched suspicion,
because it was not probable that Madame Veno knew anything about her
activities. Besides, why should the woman--even if she knew
them--betray valuable secrets of the paper and its best correspondents?
It was but an idea born of an uncomfortable conscience--another name
for fear.
Juliet was admitted to Madame Veno's flat by the respectable creature
in black silk who had impressed her so favourably two days before.
Again she was taken into the cubicle of a private waiting-room, and
there Madame came at once, from her own room.
"He's still here!" she announced, having closed the door. "Everything
is wonderful--but different from what I expected."
"Who is the man?" Juliet abruptly asked.
"I don't know. I haven't been able yet to make him tell me that. He
seemed so obstinate that I thought I'd better extract more important
details first, in case in his struggles not to obey I should lose
mind-control of him--which does happen now and then in such
experiments."
"You mean to tell me that this man--whoever he is--actually came to you
from heaven knows where because you willed him to come, and that you
hypnotized him to find out about my husband?"
"I mean just that," answered Madame Veno, triumphantly. "I've done
this sort of thing before. It's the secret of my success over other
psychics. I've found out that your husband was kidnapped, just as I
thought. As for the pearls, so far as I can understand, he had them on
him. Anyhow, they're in these people's possession. But you'd better
come into my room and talk to the man."
"Is he still hypnotized?" Juliet wanted to know, irritated by her
feeling that she was being deceived, yet eager and curious.
"No, not now. I've released him from the influence. He was going pale
about the lips, which shows a weak heart, and I was scared. I can't
take big risks of that sort! But when I explained what I'd got out of
him, and when I'd even made him put on paper a short statement of his
own handwriting, he saw that he might as well be frank----"
"If the statement was signed, you must have got his name. And if not,
what use is it?"
"He _thinks_ he's signed it, for I covered up the place where the name
should be as if accidentally, and snatched the paper away as though I
was afraid he'd grab it from me. It was when I was willing him so hard
to sign that he began to look queer. So I had to give it up."
"I see," said Juliet. "Well, take me into the next room, and let me
try what _I_ can get out of him!"
"You can get everything out of him, Duchess, and you can get back your
husband and your pearls. That is, if you're willing to pay the price
this man asks. Even in his sleep he was firm about that, and he hasn't
told where the Duke is."
Juliet did not believe that the man knew where the Duke was. It was so
much more likely that the whole business was a trick to extract money
and--give nothing of value in return! Still, she was more eager to see
the occupant of Madame Veno's room than she had ever been to see any
one--except Pat, in the blessed old days.
The green curtains were drawn, and though twilight was falling out of
doors the only lamp was a small green-shaded one on the table of the
crystal. The man who stood facing the two women as they entered was in
shadow, all except his hands, which showed white and large, crossed on
folded arms.
It was an instant before Juliet realized that something more than
shadow obscured the features. Then her piercing eyes made out that a
layer of black crape was drawn across them as far up as the forehead,
as far down as the mouth. Beneath this mask a beard protruded like a
fringe, but Juliet told herself it might be false.
"Oh, you have masked yourself!" exclaimed Madame Veno. "He wasn't
masked when I left him, Duchess!"
Juliet made no comment, though if the man and woman were in collusion
it was probable that Madame lied.
"There's no objection to my being masked, I suppose?" said the man. "I
have a right to protect myself."
"Does he speak rather like an Englishman, or do I imagine it?" Juliet
wondered.
"_I_ don't object," she said aloud. "I don't care who you are if you
can give me news of my husband, and if--if you can bring him back to
me."
"I can give you news now," the man replied. "And you can have him back
to-morrow night if you choose."
"What are your conditions?" Juliet asked.
"One million dollars for the Duke and the pearls."
"Oh!" said the Duchess. "And what for the Duke without the pearls?"
"We don't treat separately."
"Indeed! And what if I refuse to treat at all?"
"In that case, you'll never see your husband again on this side the
grave."
"You mean you'll murder him if I don't pay ransom!"
"Not at all. This is the Duke's own affair. He's in it with us. That
is"--the man spoke quickly, when anger flamed on Juliet's face and he
must have feared that she would cease bargaining for a man capable of
"holding up" his wife--"that is, he's in it to this extent: he's taken
an oath not to give us away. He was hurt in an accident--an affair
neither he nor you would like to have come out--and I and a friend of
mine saved his life. When we'd done that, as we're poor men we didn't
see why we shouldn't get something for ourselves. We're amateurs at
these things, my mate and I, and we were at odds how to approach you,
Madam, without risking trouble. Then I had a 'hunch' to consult this
lady. Dreamed about her, felt I _must_ come!" Madame Veno gave Juliet
a look. "Now I find she was mesmerizing me or something of the sort.
But she's given me good advice, and she's brought you and me together,
so maybe all's well that ends well."
"Where's my husband?" asked Juliet.
"Where I live. And you could have me followed all around New York
without finding out where that is. I'm up to every dodge of that kind,
I can tell you! But what my friend and I--the Duke standing by us
because of what we've done for him--what we propose, is this: you get
hold of a million dollars without telling any one what the money's for.
We'll know if you play us false. We have our spies. It _must_ be all
in notes. Then, if this lady--Madame Veno--is willing to see the thing
through, you'll bring to her flat the whole sum, only with the _notes
cut in two_. That plan is to prove my good faith. An hour after the
Duke shall arrive--with the pearls, in an auto--at your own house. And
the remaining halves of the notes shall be handed to the chauffeur by
you in person before your husband leaves the car. Does that scheme
look good to you?"
Juliet paused for an instant, but not to consider the money question,
for she would have given not one million but all the millions she
possessed to have Pat with her, alive and safe. Nor did she now care a
straw whether or not these two creatures were in a plot together. She
hesitated only because it seemed too good to be true that Pat should be
given back to her so easily. She had suffered so much, had realized so
bitterly her need of him--guilty or innocent--that she was actually
dazzled by the man's offer. And when she had calmed herself by drawing
a deep breath or two, she answered:
"Yes, it _seems_ good to me!"
"Then it is good, all right!"
"How soon--can you do this?"
"How soon can you get hold of the money?"
"To-morrow. Of course it's too late to-day."
"To-morrow then. Come here at this same time. Can you manage that?"
"I will manage it," Juliet said. She remembered that she had written
to Nancy van Esten, meaning to attend the rehearsal. The letter wasn't
posted yet, but she would send it, and go to the theatre for a few
minutes. From there, she would come here to Madame Veno's. No one
could think then that she had avoided meeting Lyda Pavoya, but if she
had a pressing engagement to keep, it wouldn't be _her_ fault if there
were no time for introductions!
Besides, Jack Manners and Sanders were supposed to be coming to-morrow
afternoon, to discuss some new detail in the Duke's study--what, Juliet
didn't know. The rehearsal would give her an excuse for absence while
they were there, and as it was to meet Lyda, Jack would be pleased to
have her go.
"Remember, Madam, if you don't keep this business strictly to yourself,
the Duke won't materialize," the man in the mask went on. "I assure
you--not on my honour, because that's a minus quantity to you, but on
your husband's--you can take my word for this. And furthermore, if you
attempt to trick us you'll never have a chance again."
"If there were as little chance of your tricking me, as of my tricking
you," Juliet exclaimed, "I should be happy."
"_Be_ happy then!" retorted the man. "The thing's settled. I'm off.
And I'll tell the Duke that you send him a good message."
He was out of the room before Juliet had realized that he meant to suit
his action to his word! With a wild impulse she would have sprung
after him to ask other questions, but the door slammed in her face.
She was too late. And besides, what would have been gained by keeping
the man a moment more?
"I don't think there's anything further to do or say. But let him go
quietly," Madame Veno advised.
Juliet turned upon her. "I believe you're in this!" she cried.
The elder woman smiled indulgently, as at a petulant child. "My dear,
I'm _not_!" she said. "But I can't prove that, if you don't want to
take my word."
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter!" Juliet sighed. "What do I owe you
for--your services?"
"What you think they're worth. Pay me to-morrow," Madame replied.
To-morrow! It seemed that Juliet could not live till then!