THE THIRD DEGREE
"To begin with, where's the Duchess?"
"At a rehearsal, Monsieur, of an entertainment Madame van Esten has got
up. Mademoiselle Pavoya will----"
"We don't want to hear about her. The Duchess isn't at the rehearsal."
"Then I do not know where she is. It is her affair, not mine." Simone
looked the picture of injured innocence.
"Perhaps you _don't_ know," agreed Sanders. "But you see, you've made
so many of her affairs your affairs, it's hard to tell where you draw
the line."
The French maid turned pale in rather a repulsive way she had,
beginning at the lips, which she bit to keep their colour. From her
looks she might have been furious--or frightened.
"I do not understand you, Monsieur," she almost spat.
"That doesn't matter much. What does matter is, we understand _you_."
Under her black-dotted veil Simone's olive sallowness greened.
"Monsieur accuses me of--something?" Sanders grinned with the utmost
cruelty. "Well, what do you think?"
"I think a person has perhaps told lies about me, Monsieur!"
"Ah!" the detective leapt in his chair as if he had caught her--as if
she had given him a chance for which he'd waited. "Ah! What's the
name of that person?"
The Frenchwoman began to feel sick. Her fears, though acute, had been
vague. Suddenly they became definite. She floundered. So much
depended on saying the right thing that she was terribly afraid of
saying the wrong one. She glanced at Captain Manners again, but he had
taken up a paper. To her horror it was the _Inner Circle_, which
Sanders had bought and brought in to discuss. Her knees turned to
water. She could not help giving a faint gasp. Her eyes were fixed on
the "Whisperer's" page, which was held up--as if purposely. Both men
saw the stare: and into the minds of both sprang the same thought.
Jack had had it before. He had even hinted it to Juliet, who laughed
it to scorn, and remarked that she knew Simone better than he could
possibly know her. Sanders had had the thought, and mentioned it to
Manners. But there was no proof; and the Frenchwoman's "shadower" had
never seen her go to the office of the _Inner Circle_. As for
letters--Sanders had put Togo onto watching for them. Simone had sent
out none at all from the house. Yet now that one bleak glare at the
open paper, and both men were as sure as if the woman had confessed.
"You think your editor has been talking, eh?" the detective said.
"That's as may be. Anyhow, we _know_."
The telephone bell rang. Jack took up the receiver. "Yes, Mr. Sanders
is here," he replied to some question. "He'll speak with you in a
second. Hold the line."
Sanders bounded to the 'phone. "Yes--yes--good!" were the only words
he said. But Jack knew he was speaking to his man at the café. Then
he turned again to Simone. "Come here and call your friend
Defasquelle," he sharply ordered. "Tell him he must turn up at his
house at once or there'll be a disaster for you both."
Simone grasped the back of a chair, and clung to it. "I cannot,
Monsieur," she gulped. "I know Monsieur Defasquelle only by seeing him
here. I----"
"Don't waste words," Sanders cut her short. "It'll be the worse for
you if you do. You've just been with him now, at Rudin's. Call him up
at his hotel."
"If--if I will not?" she stammered.
"Do you want to go to prison while he's left free--to _marry his girl
in Marseilles_?"
That was a chance shot, but it found its billet.
"He _has_ no girl in Marseilles!" Simone shrilled.
"Oh, yes, he has. I have his _dossier_ from the Paris police. If you
get him here and make him tell the truth, I promise you that marriage
won't take place."
"I will call him," said Simone, sickly pale. She flitted across the
room to the telephone.
Sanders rubbed his hands, and nodded to Jack. But Jack was glancing at
his wrist-watch.
"What am I to do?" he asked the detective in a low voice. "The time's
almost here for me to keep my appointment with Mademoiselle Pavoya."
"Go to it!" said Sanders. "I'm equal to Simone and Defasquelle. Now
I've got proof enough to bluff on--my waiter man 'phoned that the pair
were talking about the pearls and apparently blackguarding each other!
I'll strip them of their secrets like a tree of ripe fruit. But look
here, I have a 'hunch' that there's more in this _Inner Circle_
business than meets the eye. Simone's been a catspaw. There may be
wheels within wheels. When you go to meet Mademoiselle Pavoya take my
tip and accept Old Nick's offer."
"What, have him with me?"
"Yes, wherever Pavoya sends you."
"She may not send me anywhere."
"I think she will send you somewhere. Meanwhile, I'll pump Simone and
Defasquelle dry. When you get back I may have the pearls in pink
cotton!"
Manners was torn. He wished to hear what Simone said over the
telephone. He wished to stay and witness the scene through between
her, Defasquelle, and Sanders. But most of all he wished not to be
late for Lyda. _Nothing_ was worth that!
Jack arrived at the theatre just after Lyda had finished rehearsing a
dance which she herself had arranged for the charity fête with Mrs. Van
Esten's spoiled little girl.
Mademoiselle Pavoya was in her dressing room, he was told, and was
expecting him. He went there quickly, afraid of being caught by
someone he knew on the way, and forced to stop and talk nonsense, for
the place was like a rabbit-warren--alive with pretty women and men who
thought they were Society incarnate.
Lyda wore the swan costume she had worn the first night of their
meeting--or one much like it; and the thought of that wonderful night
thrilled him. How had he lived before that time? Yet he had gone out
of her presence to doubt her truth, her honour! Never could he forgive
himself for that, never could he worship her quite enough to make up
for those hours of disloyalty.
She held out her hands to him, and he crushed first one then the other
against his lips. "My Swan Goddess!" he exclaimed. "You're too
marvellous like this. I can hardly believe you're flesh and
blood--that I'm not dreaming you. I love you so much!"
She drew her hands away, and pushed him back when he would have taken
her in his arms, wings and all.
"Perhaps you _are_ dreaming me!" she smiled, "Dreaming the woman you
think I am. And--you're not to do _that_! My hands only!"
"Yet you said you cared! You said you'd never felt for any man as you
felt when our eyes first met."
"Ah, I said that when you'd confessed doubting me, and begged
forgiveness, and vowed that nothing on earth or in heaven--or the other
place--could ever make you doubt again. I owed you some confession in
return."
"Then it _was_ true?"
"Yes, it was true----"
"And is still?"
"But--of course! I do not change. Yet we are to be friends and
nothing more until all is made clear--until even your cousin believes
in me and doesn't think you'd be better dead than loving Lyda Pavoya.
If that day could ever come!"
"It will come--soon. Oh, Lyda, remember that first night--at your
house. You let me hold you in my arms then."
"But that was as a _friend_. You understood, I know! I was so
stirred, so hard pressed, I wanted protection from someone sincere.
And you were the sincerest man I ever saw."
"Yes, I did understand. I do now. And--I won't bother you,
Lyda--though it's hard work, this friendship business to a man who
worships a beautiful woman as I worship you. But it's a bargain:
friendship till--the day. May it be to-morrow!"
"Amen!" she echoed, with one of her fleeting smiles that came so
seldom. "Now let us talk not of ourselves but of your cousin. We
ought to have begun with her!"
"No!"
"Yes. Because there may be danger. I'll tell you quickly all I know.
You have met a friend--an acquaintance--of mine, the Comtesse de
Saintville?"
"Oh, yes--wife of a diplomat of sorts, isn't she? I've heard you were
intimate."
"That isn't true; but she has Polish blood, and for that or some other
reason she likes to come to my house. I have been able to do her a
good turn now and then. I wouldn't tell this to any one except you,
_mon ami_, but she's a great bridge player, and loses more money than
she ought. Lately she got into a bad--what you call scrape. She asked
me to lend her a thousand dollars (you see, she dared not let her
husband know!) but I couldn't. It was when I was putting aside every
_sou_ for Markoff. I could do nothing except promise to help later. I
do not love Sonia de Saintville, yet I am sorry for her. I was afraid
that in desperation she would do some stupid thing! The other day I
had a windfall. A friend in Paris who'd borrowed fifty thousand francs
sent it back to me. I'd never expected to see the money again! So I
'phoned Sonia that now I could let her have the thousand dollars. She
answered that a thousand would no longer be of use. But two thousand
would save her. From the way she spoke, I understood that things were
very grave. I said she should have the two thousand. She came to my
house and I gave it to her in notes. I hadn't seen her for days, and
she was looking ill--changed. I spoke kindly to the poor thing, and
she broke down. It is the confession she made which will interest you,
my friend. You would never guess! She had got into the power of that
_Inner Circle_ band."
"They were blackmailing her?"
"Yes, in a queer way. Did you ever suspect that Mr. Lowndes--'Billy
Lowndes' I hear him called--was for something in that paper?"
"Good lord, no! _Billy Lowndes_!--Not that I ever liked him. But I
didn't think he was as big a rotter as that! He was in love with my
cousin Juliet, hard hit, before she married. And by a sort of
coincidence Lowndes' sister Emmy--Lady West (you may have met her
war-working in Paris or London)--made rather an ass of herself over
Claremanagh."
"Perhaps that partly explains--some things, if we can patch them
together. Listen! It was at Mrs. Billy Lowndes', Sonia said, that she
lost most of her money. There's a set there that plays very high.
They make the Lowndes' flat a sort of private club. Sonia was
dunned--and frightened of her husband. Billy Lowndes offered to lend
her the whole lot. She thought, how good-natured! But soon she
learned it was not goodness. He wanted something. The condition was
that she should get the Duchess of Claremanagh to go and consult a
palmist, crystal-gazer person, a Madame Veno. Did you ever hear of
her?"
"No. Yes! By Jove, her name's on the building of the _Inner Circle_!
The plot thickens."
"But how?"
"Oh, Sanders and I have caught my cousin Juliet's maid. We're sure
it's she who gave away things to the 'Whisperer.' Sanders is putting
her through the 'third degree' now. I couldn't stop to hear it out. I
was due here. Besides, it looks as if the woman--Simone--was mixed up
in the disappearance of the pearls, with the chap who brought them from
France--Defasquelle. Perhaps this Veno person is in the affair, too.
And the whole business may be one--with ramifications."
"That is what I've wondered--since Sonia confessed to-day what they
made her do. She was to go to the Duchess, and tell her that Madame
Veno had seen Claremanagh in the crystal--that she could help her find
him. Sonia suspected something queer. She was sure at once that
Lowndes was on that horrid paper--perhaps editor--of that vile
'Whisperer'. And she'd heard the story about his being in love with
your cousin when she was Miss Phayre. So she told him she couldn't do
this commission. Then Lowndes lost all his good nature. He threatened
that the 'Whisperer' of the _Inner Circle_ might get some new material
from him to whisper about: that there'd be paragraphs hinting of her
debts and the ruin of her husband's career. That would have been the
end of all things for Sonia! So she consented, after all. She called
on the Duchess and told her that Madame Veno wanted to see her."
"When was that?"
"Three days ago."
"Juliet never breathed a word to Sanders or me. She left us in the
dark."
"She would! Most women would. I should have let you know before, but
Sonia told me only to-day. I wrote at once and asked you to come."
"Thank you, my White Swan. Many women in your place would have sat
still and let poor Juliet go to the devil for treating you in the
cattish way she has."
"I've no grudge against her! I should have done so in her place,
if--if the man had been you, instead of Claremanagh."
"Darling! You expect to keep me at arms' length after that?"
"Yes--yes! Listen. The Duchess went to Madame Veno."
"How do you know?"
"The Veno woman herself was to inform Sonia if she didn't turn up. In
that case Sonia was to urge the Duchess. She--Sonia, I mean--was
forced to go to Veno's place as if to have her hand read, because
_they_ wouldn't risk anything in writing. Luckily she had to make only
one visit, because the very first time she was told the Duchess had
been there. She was to come again on the third day. That was all
arranged, though Sonia imagined that the Duchess didn't _know_ this.
She was to think the arrangement was made later. But the third day is
to-day. Sonia thought the first call the Duchess made was late in the
afternoon, and something was dropped about the 'same hour next time'.
I believe she must be at Veno's at this moment. And if those _Inner
Circle_ people are in the thing, and it's a plot of some sort----"
"I'll go there now!"
"What, to the _Inner Circle_ office?"
"Not first, anyhow. Maybe later. That depends! But now, to Madame
Veno's."
"Oh, I'm worried!" Lyda put out her hands, and laid them on his
khaki-clad arms. "They say these _Inner Circle_ people may be a nest
of crooks!"
"I don't doubt 'they' are right for once! But I'm not going alone."
"I thought your detective was busy with the maid and the pearl carrier."
"He is. But you know Old Nick? You must! You couldn't have known Pat
without Old Nick."
"Good Old Nick! Of course I know him--since Paris, when Claremanagh
was ill at my house."
"Well, Nick's going 'over the top' with me, as a volunteer. I don't
know whether I shall find anything for him to do, but if so, he'll be
ready!"
"Yes--yes! He'd do anything for Claremanagh."
"And even for Claremanagh's wife. Good-bye, my darling. Wish me luck."
"I do--I do."
"A kiss to speed the wish?"
"No. Only my hand. Wait!"
"How long--in God's name?"
"Till--the Duke's found--and the pearls."