DESCRIBES A MEETING AND ITS SEQUEL
His words staggered me.
"Not agents of police!" I cried, dumbfounded. "Why, they were fully
cognisant of every detail of the affair. It was the Director of the
Casino who presented them."
"Then Monsieur le Directeur was tricked, just as you were," he
answered gravely. "You say you actually received from the hand of
someone who wore an effective disguise the sum stolen from the
unfortunate monsieur? Kindly explain the whole circumstances of your
meeting, and what passed between you."
"My dear Carmela," exclaimed Ulrica, "this fresh complication is
absolutely bewildering! You not only danced and chatted with the
murderer, but you were the victim of a very clever plot."
"That is quite certain," observed the officer. "The two individuals
to whom mademoiselle innocently gave the notes upon representation
that they were agents of police were evidently well acquainted with
the murderer's intention to give up the proceeds of the robbery, and
had watched you narrowly all through the evening. But kindly give us
exact details."
In obedience to his demand, I recounted the whole story. It seemed
to me incredible that the two men who had sent for me were bogus
detectives, yet such was the actual fact, as was shown later when the
Director of the Casino explained how they had come to him, telling
him that they were police agents from Marseilles, and had ordered him
to send for me, as they wished to interrogate me regarding the affair
of the "Grand Hotel." Such, he declared, was their air of authority
that he never for a moment doubted that they were genuine officers of
police.
My statement held the two men absolutely speechless. I told them of
the strange appointment in London made by the man with the owl's
face, of the curious warning he had given me, and of the manner in
which he had presented me with the sum won at the tables by the
murdered man.
"You can give us absolutely no idea whatever of his personal
appearance?" he inquired dubiously.
"None whatever," I answered. "The dress and mask were effectual in
disguising him."
"And the two men who falsely posed as police agents? Will you kindly
describe them?" And at the same time he took out a well-worn
pocket-book and scribbled in it.
I described their personal appearance as closely as I could, while on
his part he took down my statement very carefully.
"This is most extraordinary!" Ulrica observed, standing near me in
wonder. "The pair who said they were detectives were exceedingly
clever, and are evidently aware of all that has occurred."
"Marvellous!" exclaimed the man reflectively. "Only very clever
thieves would dare to walk into the bureau of the Casino and act as
they did."
"Have they any connection with the actual assassin, do you think?"
"I'm inclined to believe so," he responded. "It was a conspiracy on
their part to obtain possession of the money."
"Of course, I gave it up in entire innocence," I said. "I never
dreamt that such a plot could exist."
"Ah, mademoiselle!" observed the detective, "in this affair we have
evidently to deal with those who have brought crime to a fine art.
There seems something remarkable regarding the appointment in London
on the 2nd of June. It seems as though it were desired to gain time
with some secret object or another."
"I am absolutely bewildered," I admitted. "My position in this
tragic affair is anything but enviable."
"Most certainly, all this must be most annoying and distressing to
mademoiselle. I only hope we shall be successful in tracing the real
perpetrators of the crime."
"You think there were more than one?"
"That is most probable," he replied. "At present, however, we still
remain without any tangible clue, save that the proceeds of the crime
have passed from one person to another, through the agency of
yourself."
"Their audacity was beyond comprehension!" I cried. "It really seems
inconceivable that I should have danced with the actual murderer, and
afterwards been induced to hand over to a pair of impostors the money
stolen from the unfortunate young man. I feel that I am to blame for
my shortsightedness."
"Not at all, mademoiselle, not at all," declared the detective, with
his suave Gallic politeness. "With such a set of ingenious
malefactors, it is very easy to commit an error, and fall a victim to
roguery."
"And what can be done?"
"We can only continue our investigations."
"But the man in the owl's dress? Tell me candidly, do you really
believe that he was the actual murderer?"
"He may have been. It is evident that, for some hidden purpose, he
had an important reason for passing the stolen notes into your
possession."
"But why?"
"Ah, that is one of the mysteries which we must try to solve. The
man was French, you say?"
"He spoke English admirably."
"No word of French?"
"Not a single word. Yet he possessed an accent rather unusual."
"He might have been a foreigner--an Italian or German, for aught you
know?" the detective suggested.
"No," I answered reflectively. "His gestures were French. I believe
that he was actually French."
"And the bogus police agents?"
"They, too, were French, undoubtedly. It would have been impossible
to deceive the Director of the Casino, himself a Frenchman."
"Mademoiselle is quite right. I will at once see Monsieur le
Directeur and hear his statement. It is best," he added, "that the
matter should remain a profound secret. Do not mention it, either of
you, even to your nearest friends. Publicity might very probably
render futile all our inquiries."
"I understand," I said.
"And mademoiselle will say no word to anyone about it?"
I glanced at Ulrica inquiringly.
"Certainly," she answered. "If monsieur so wishes, the affair shall
be kept secret."
Then, after some further discussion, the police officer thanked us,
gave us an assurance of his most profound respect, and, accompanied
by his silent subordinate, withdrew.
"After all," I remarked, when they had gone, "it will be best,
perhaps, to say nothing whatever to Gerald. He might mention it
incautiously and thus it might get into the papers."
"Yes, my dear," answered Ulrica. "Perhaps silence is best. But the
trick played upon you surpasses comprehension. I don't like the
aspect of affairs at all. If it were not for the fact that we have
so many friends here, and that it is just the height of the season, I
should suggest the packing of our trunks."
"We shall leave soon," I said; "as soon as the yachting party is
complete."
"Gerald told me last night that the old gentleman has ordered great
preparations to be made for us on board the _Vispera_. He intends to
do the thing well, as he always does when he entertains."
"We shall, no doubt, have a most glorious time," I answered, as
together we went forth to meet the Allens, whom we found with their
automobile brake outside Vogarde's, that smart confectioner's, where,
as you, my reader, know, the cosmopolitan world of Nice sips tea at
four o'clock. At most Continental health resorts afternoon tea is
unknown, but with visitors to Nice it is quite a solemn function,
even though they be Parisians, and never taste tea except in winter
on the Côte d'Azur. At Rumpelmayer's, that white and gold tea-shop,
where many a royal highness or grand duchess descends to sip a cup
and nibble an appetising piece of confectionery; at the English
tea-house on the Quai Massena, known familiarly to winter visitors as
"the muffin shop," and at Vogarde's, famed for crystallised fruits,
it is usual to meet everyone who is anyone, and gossip pleasantly
over the tea-cups. On the Promenade des Anglais there is no really
fashionable hour, as in other resorts, but the recently-instituted
"five o'clock" is the reunion of everyone, and the chatter is always
polyglot.
Our trip to Tourette proved a charming one. It is a delightful
sensation to rush along the road at the speed of a railway train in
an easy vehicle which trumpets like an elephant at every corner and
passes everything like a flash. The French have certainly improved
on the ordinary means of locomotion, and if the automobile is noisy,
the vibration is never felt in travelling, while the nauseous
fumes--which, it must be admitted, sometimes half poison the
passer-by--are always behind.
That same night, after dinner, we accompanied the Allens, a
middle-aged American, and his wife, who lived in Paris, over to Monte
Carlo. The Battle of Flowers had taken place there during the day,
and that event always marks the zenith of the gaming season. The
Rooms were crowded, and the dresses, always magnificent at night,
were more daring than ever. Half fashionable Europe seemed there,
including an English royal highness and a crowd of other notables.
One of De Lara's operas was being played in the Casino theatre, and
as this composer is a great favourite there, a very large audience
was attracted.
The display of jewels at the tables was that night the most dazzling
I had ever seen. Some women, mostly gay Parisiennes or arrogant
Russians, seemed literally covered with diamonds; and as they stood
round the table risking their louis or five-franc pieces, it seemed
strange that with jewels of that worth upon them they should descend
to play with such paltry stakes. But many women at Monte Carlo play
merely because it is the correct thing so to do, and very often are
careless of either loss or gain.
The usual characters were there; the wizened old man with his
capacious purse; the old hag in black cashmere, with her rouged face,
playing and winning; and alas! the foolish young man who staked
always in the wrong place, until he had flung away his last louis.
In all the world there is no stranger panorama of life than that
presented at ten o'clock at night at the tables of Monte Carlo. It
is unique! It is indescribable! It is appalling!
Temptation is spread there before the unwary in all its forms, until
the fevered atmosphere of gold and avarice throbs with evil, becomes
nauseous, and one longs for a breath of the fresh night air and a
refreshing drink to take the bad taste out of one's mouth.
I played merely because Ulrica and Dolly Allen played. I think I won
three or four louis, but am not certain of the amount. You ask why?
Because there was seated at the table, exactly opposite where I
stood, unnoticed among the crowd, no less a person than Ernest
Cameron.
At his side was the inevitable red and black card whereon he
registered each number as it came up; before him were several little
piles of louis and a few notes, while behind him, leaning now and
then over his chair and whispering, was _that woman_!
At frequent intervals he played, generally upon the dozens, and even
then rather uncertainly. But he often lost. Once or twice he played
with fairly large stakes upon a chance which appeared practically
certain, but he had no fine fortune, and the croupier raked in his
money.
For fully a dozen times he staked two louis on the last twelve
numbers, but with that perversity which sometimes seems to seize the
roulette-ball, the numbers came up between 1 and 24.
Suddenly the tow-haired woman who had replaced myself in his
affections leaned over, and said in a voice quite audible to me:
"Put the maximum on number 6!"
With blind obedience he counted out the sum sufficient to win the
maximum of six thousand francs, and pushed it upon the number she had
named.
"_Rien ne va plus!_" cried the croupier the next instant, and then,
sure enough, I saw the ball drop into the number the witch had
prophesied.
The croupier counted the stake quickly, and pushed with his rake
towards the fortunate player notes for six thousand francs, with the
simple words:
"_En plein!_"
"Enough!" cried the woman, prompting him. "Play no more to-night."
He sighed, and with a strange, preoccupied air gathered up his coin,
notes, and other belongings, while a player tossed over a five-franc
piece to "mark" his place, or, in other words, to secure his chair
when he vacated it. Then, still obedient to her, he rose with a
faint smile upon his lips.
As he did so, he raised his eyes, and they fell full upon mine, for I
was standing there watching him.
Our gaze met, suddenly. Next instant, however, the light died out of
his countenance, and he stood glaring at me as though I were an
apparition. His mouth was slightly opened, his hand trembled, his
brow contracted, and his face grew ashen.
His attitude was as though he were cowed by my presence. He
remembered our last meeting.
In a moment, however, he recovered his self-possession, turned his
back upon me, and strolled away beside the woman who had usurped my
place.