Stolen Souls Part 36

"_Diable_! You?" cried Delbet, starting up in alarm.

"Ah, my husband!" gasped Valerie, covering her blanched face with her hands.

"_Sacre_! You shall die!" I shouted.

The tolling bell throbbed once again, and then--a short, sharp, loud report and a flash together. A little puff of blue-grey smoke floated ceilingward, a man's frightened cry pierced the night, and upon the harmonious colours of the flower-strewn carpet Valerie lay dead.

Rus.h.i.+ng to my wife's boudoir, I broke open her escritoire, bent upon ascertaining the nature of any letters she might have concealed there.

There were many. Ah, _Dieu_! When I think of the pa.s.sionate love-missives penned by the man whom I had implicitly trusted, and admitted to my home as a friend, my brain is lashed to frenzy.

One discovery I made was startling. Several of the letters bore the stamp of twenty-five centimes, and their envelopes were addressed to "Mademoiselle Halima Fathma, care of Hadj Ha.s.san, Douera Algerie."

Searching further, I discovered a full-length cabinet photograph, taken in Algiers. It was of Valerie dressed as the Sheikh's daughter, with the exception that the _adjar_, which had hidden the Arab girl's face, had been removed.

In my surprise I almost forgot the terrible tragedy.

Continuing the investigation of the odds and ends in her private drawer, I found an Arab head ornament and several bracelets. The pattern of the crescent-shaped sequins I recognised as the same as those worn by the mysterious Halima.

These discoveries, combined with the contents of the letters which I hastily scanned, left no doubt that Halima and Valerie were the same person; and, further, that Ha.s.san, the wealthy Sheikh of the Ahamellen, who had a house at Douera, was really her father; and that Monsieur de Noirville had brought her up, and educated her to the ways of civilised society.

When I had left for Algeria, it had been her caprice to follow me, and rejoin her people.

She had saved my life, yet I had killed her.

But though so fair, she was false--_false_!

Bah! How infernally bitter this cognac is!

One more gulp, and my body and soul will have parted. I shall be at rest.

Ah, well! Here's health to the cursed scoundrel who has wrecked my life. The gla.s.s is drained. The sediment was like gall.

How it burns!

I--I go. I trouble no one longer. _Au revoir. Adieu_!