The Broken Thread Part 10

Raife rose from his chair as the doctor approached the table, and, gracefully, Gilda introduced: "My uncle, Doctor Malsano--Sir Raife Remington."

With Saxon rigidity Raife bowed, but the older man with a warmth and graciousness extended his hand, compelling acceptance. Raife took the old man's hand, and the contact caused him to shudder.

They took their seats at the table and the incongruous trio indulged in the vague generalities that are frequently a.s.sociated with a breakfast-table. This was not a _dejeuner a la fourchette_. By common consent, coffee and dainty Vienna bread, with perfect b.u.t.ter, const.i.tuted the meal.

Raife could not fail to notice that Gilda's radiance had subsided, and, in the presence of her uncle, a subdued conventionalism had superseded.

Once more, in spite of his brief sense of complete trust in this girl, who had not only entered but monopolised the moments of his life, whether awake or asleep--once more the fateful words of his dying father rang in his ears.

"Beware of the trap--she--that woman."

He was roused from this reverie by the doctor's words, uttered with a cordiality and accompanied by a smile that ill accorded with the sinister chuckles of the previous night.

Doctor Malsano, taking wax impressions in the dead of the night of the keys of his niece's wooer, was a different person from the cheery old gentleman who said: "You are staying with your mother, who is a widow, I understand, Sir Raife?"

"Yes," responded Raife. "My mother is with me here. She takes breakfast in her room. Since my father's death she is fragile and delicate."

"Ah, yes! I heard of your father's death. Let me see. He was murdered, wasn't he? Murdered by some blackguard of a burglar?"

Gilda winced. The doctor's face was earnestly sympathetic.

Raife replied: "Yes, he was murdered by some blackguard of a burglar.

Thank G.o.d, the burglar died too."

The doctor crooned rather than spoke. "We won't talk of sad things on this bright, sunny morning. Nice is charming, isn't it, and so full of smart people? The Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz is staying here--in this hotel, I'm told."

"Yes," responded Raife, "she is a friend of my mother's, and sometimes stays with us at Aldborough Park."

"Aldborough Park! Dear me, I've heard of that some time. It's a fine old Tudor place near Tunbridge Wells, isn't it?"

Raife said: "Yes. It's a fine old place. It belongs to me. There have been happy days at Aldborough, but yet I cannot help thinking that some people seem to thrive on the misery of others."

"That's true," the doctor crooned again, "It's sad, but it's true."

Then, cheerfully, Raife said; "I hope, doctor, that you and Miss Tempest will honour me with a visit there some day soon, and we'll try and make merry again. If we can, we'll forget that villainous a.s.sa.s.sin."

Again Gilda winced, and, dropping her serviette, stooped to pick it up, thus hiding a scarlet flush that suffused her cheeks.

Without replying to the invitation and, with a suddenness that appeared to be anent nothing, Doctor Malsano said:

"Oh, Sir Raife, I've forgotten to express my thanks to you for the charming talisman you have presented to my niece, which I see she is wearing around her neck!"

Raife and Gilda both started at this extraordinary sally. Neither knew that the doctor was aware of the gift. The slight gold chain to which the talisman was attached was barely visible, whilst the figure of Isis was entirely screened from view. It heaved on Gilda's palpitating breast, behind the bodice of her charming and dainty morning gown.

Without apparently heeding the embarra.s.sment of the young couple, he proceeded:

"There is a delightful mysticism about Egyptian mythology that charms me. Let me see, Isis was a G.o.ddess, wasn't she? To be sure she was a G.o.ddess, and the record of her does not always make pleasant reading."

Raife gazed steadfastly at this mysterious man, and marvelled at the meaning of his cryptic utterances, which came from him graciously, and with a smile that was bland, until the swivel eye destroyed the illusion.

Gilda was trained to the startling nature of her uncle's methods, and collected her senses rapidly, remarking: "Yes, wasn't it kind of Raife-- Sir Raife I mean, to give it to me. I told him you would be pleased."

Raife was more mystified than ever. She had not said anything of the kind to him. And what was the meaning of that lapse--the omission of the t.i.tle in speaking before her uncle? Truly, the depths of these personalities were unfathomable. In spite of it all he had sworn to trust Gilda and remain her friend. He was a Reymingtoune and he would keep his word. Apart from that, he loved her, and love remains as blind to-day as when Cupid became fully fledged and wore wings.

The revolutions of an excited mentality are rapid, and a thought flashed through Sir Raife Remington's mind. Who was that mysterious-looking, slouch-hatted, and cloaked Apache type of person, who bade him wait for Gilda when she was late for her appointment? Was he a secret agent of Doctor Malsano? What would be the outcome of this hotbed of mystery?

It mattered not. Only one thing mattered. He loved this frail, beautiful young girl. He had sworn to trust her and to be her friend.

CHAPTER NINE.

FOILED BY THE WORK OF A MODERN DETECTIVE.

The sunlit day that followed the breakfast at the little table laid for three, was full of happiness for Raife. He rapidly planned a motor-car ride. There were many details to be arranged. Lady Remington must be propitiated. The conventionalities of the South are less exacting than those of the North, but some of them must be observed. Lady Remington accepted the specious circ.u.mstances invented by Raife, and Doctor Malsano and his niece, Gilda Tempest, were duly introduced to her ladys.h.i.+p. The presentation was a characteristic presentment of difficulties overcome by an astuteness that youth can a.s.sume when love is the guide to the occasion. _Il dottore_ displayed a suavity that was charming to Lady Remington, and Raife s.n.a.t.c.hed the opportunity for those small attentions that accompany a youthful courts.h.i.+p. All that had savoured of mystery disappeared when the car bounded over the white roads that clamber over the hill and mountain sides of the sunny Mediterranean sh.o.r.e. To those two young hearts it was Elysium. A discreet Italian chauffeur paid those few attentions necessary to the well-ordered mechanism of a modern motor-car, and smiled once or twice when it occurred to him that so much happiness could not exist without a tragedy--somewhere-sometime. A bend in the steep road, a precipitous declivity with a loose stone wall on either side, and a glorious prospect of blue sea, and rich coloured landscape, brought the happy party to one of those meeting grounds, where perfectly trained waiters and caterers for human comfort a.s.sort themselves.

Joyously they alighted, and Raife proceeded to plan the arrangements for an al-fresco entertainment. Happiness was the keynote of the pleasure jaunt, and the stately Lady Remington seemed pleased with the companions.h.i.+p of the dignified doctor. The details of an entertainment are rendered easy in a land where men, women, and children are trained through the centuries to the refinements of pleasure.

Raife and Gilda found themselves wandering alone in a grove of trees, those dark-hued olives with leaf and branch in silhouette against a cerulean sky. This was the first occasion when opportunity had served for the display of a pent-up pa.s.sion. With a fierceness that belongs to the madness of a love that has been controlled, almost discomforted, by circ.u.mstances Raife caught Gilda in his arms! Love may be blind, but love is alert. Crumpling leaves and a footstep brought Raife to his more complete sense. Turning, he saw the uncanny form of the Apache person, the forbidding creature who had spoken to him outside the cafe, on the night when Gilda had sent the little Italian girl to fetch him to her. With a gesture of impatience, that expressed thwarted opportunity, he said: "Who is that fellow, Gilda? Why is he here? How did he get here?"

Gilda trembled, and held her head between her hands. "I don't know,"

she stammered. "Don't ask me. I don't know!"

Brief is the life of golden opportunity, and Raife's happiness had been broken by this phantom person of the forbidding aspect. A Saxon can love, but a Saxon can sulk. All that was Saxon in Sir Raife Remington induced him to sulk at this moment. They returned to where the tables were laid with that tempting display of napery and polished silver which is so well understood by the continental caterers. Lady Remington and Doctor Malsano were conversing agreeably. Gilda was evidently distressed, and Raife remained sulky. As they met again, the doctor was saying: "Your son was telling me, Lady Remington, that the Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz is a friend of yours. She is staying, I understand, at the same hotel with us?"

"Oh, yes, Doctor Malsano, I know the baroness. She visits us at Aldborough Park, my son's place, you know, near Tunbridge Wells."

"How very interesting. I have often felt I would like to meet the baroness. They tell me she is a very brilliant lady." This was said with much unction.

The day that had opened so brightly, and with so much pleasure to Raife, was no longer pleasing to him. He was haunted by that Apache-looking fellow, whose hateful appearance in the olive grove had robbed him of the gratification that he felt should have been his. The course of true love is rarely smooth. It is often very rough. The weird happenings, since Raife and Gilda had met and talked, the brief love way into their souls on the front at Southport, had crowded their lives with mixed joy and sorrow. In these charming al-fresco surroundings, where the daintiness of human service blended with nature's choicest gifts, there should have been peace and quietude of spirit. It was not to be. The haunting thought of his father's dying words recurred again and again.

"The trap--. She--that woman."

His whole life's blood should go out to this woman, whom he loved with a pa.s.sion that belonged to a fierce nature. Yet at every pace or revolution in the progress of their intimacy there was a dark pa.s.sage, a sinister obstacle.

The dignified uncle repelled him, although he, apparently, was fascinating his stately and severely exclusive mother. The forbidding figure of the Apache had completed, for a while, his sense of depression. The happiest people were, apparently, Lady Remington, the doctor--and the chauffeur--who had found companions.h.i.+p with a soft-eyed, brainless, dark-skinned maid, of the type that serves, and is happy in serving.

When the hired car bowled merrily around on the return journey and pulled up at the hotel, and a smiling group of servants a.s.sisted them in their entrance to the hotel, the Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz greeted Lady Remington. The opportunity and all the circ.u.mstances were of such a nature that it was almost necessary that Lady Remington should make the presentation. Thus Doctor Malsano and Gilda Tempest met the Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz.

It is necessary to talk of the Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz. She was rich, and of ancient lineage, but not of that old-world type which belonged to middle and eastern Europe, when the most exalted lady was little more than the ordinary _frau_ or housewife. The baroness was brilliant and accomplished, and she was endowed with a commanding presence. She was handsome rather than beautiful, and as for her age--what does it matter so long as she remained attractive, and commanded the admiration of most, and the devotion of many, men.

Modern travel is so easy and it is so frequent that there is a closer intercourse in the society of nations. Switzerland and the Riviera are the acknowledged playgrounds where, by international accord, the crook may jostle the n.o.ble, and the conventions of the capitals of the world are allowed a licence and freedom undreamt of a decade ago.

Lady Remington first met the baroness at the Angst Hotel, Bordighera.

The frigid bows which are grudgingly given by the highly-born in such circ.u.mstances, melted somewhat when, next season, mutual recognition was forced on them by an untimely jostle at the gaming tables of Monte Carlo. Of course those tables were never really fas.h.i.+onable, but they have always been fascinating. They possess the requisite diablerie to amuse the most exclusive and bored aristocracy of the countries of Europe. A further chance meeting at San Moritz completed the essentials necessary to break down the hidebound conventions that surround women's introductions to one another.

Lady Remington and the Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz thus became friends. The baroness, so much younger than Lady Remington, possessed a vivacity and sense of initiative in the matter of social entertainment, which were very pleasing to her ladys.h.i.+p. The arduous nature of the late Sir Henry's political life had been responsible for much that was almost drab in his wife's career, which had been beautifully devoted to her husband.

The baroness's jewels were a frequent topic of conversation in most of the capitals of Europe. The joy of possession is very great to the woman who owns jewellery, and the joy seems to increase with the risk that is attached to travel. The hairbreadth escapes, the thrills, and the states of panic attending the conveyance of the baroness's jewels from one spa to another, were worth more than the cost of those expensive baubles. Her maid lived in a constant state of dread and apprehension in her efforts to protect the precious trinkets. There was not a crook in Europe who was not striving to outwit that poor woman and rob the baroness at the same time. Every variety of human emotion followed in their train, and the alert little Fraulein Schneider was the custodian of the priceless baubles, and ever on her guard to confuse the common enemy. Humanity is frail, and the most austere have a weak spot.

Fraulein Schneider's vigilance had become so much a part of her character that there were very few who detected the weak point in her armour. Coiled in a shapeless bunch at the back of her head there were long plaited strands of yellow hair. No one ever knew just how much of that hair there was, but the strands seemed interminable. This yellow hair was the one weak spot through which she could be approached. It was combed and pomaded, and plaited with scrupulous care. Everything about Fraulein Schneider was characterised by extreme care, from the guarding of the baroness's jewels to the setting of the miniature black and white bonnet that surrounded the mighty monument of yellow hair.

"What beautiful hair, Fraulein!" was sufficient to extract a gratified smile, which was the first step towards relaxed vigilance. Doctor Malsano knew this weakness, and he watched and waited for the opportunity to apply the knowledge for his profit. A polished criminal is liable to take long chances when a big haul of booty appears probable. The doctor had shown himself rather indiscreet these last few days. Crossing the foyer of the hotel, after a long chat with the charming Lady Remington, he stumbled and almost fell into the arms of a little Englishman, who protested in such a ludicrous voice that the incident raised a t.i.tter among the guests at the hotel. There was no desire for laughter on the doctor's part. In that brief, short while he had recognised Detective-Inspector Herrion of Scotland Yard. This immaculate little gentleman, with his fair hair parted in the middle, and a waxed moustache, was none other than the famous Herrion. A detective to-day, to be successful on the continent of Europe, must combine the qualities of an Admirable Crichton, with the cunning of a stoat. Detective-Inspector Herrion excelled these attributes, and, under alternating masks that varied from the superficial inanity of a Scarlet Pimpernel to the repellance of a viper, he did society much daring service. The apparent young sprig of aristocracy, with the deliciously insipid drawl and the grotesque monocle, was none other than Herrion, the one man of all others whom Doctor Malsano dreaded. This dainty little gentleman presented a very different appearance a few minutes later as he stripped before the mirror of the hotel washstand he revealed to himself the sinewy and fibrous muscles of the well-trained athlete.

Herrion was an athlete trained in that lithe school that embodies every active form of sport, from football to fencing, from _la savate_ to the modern savage form of fighting and boxing. Equally deadly with a Browning revolver, a rifle at 800 yards, or a right and left among the birds in stubble or turnips.