Читать книгу The Kidnapping of Madame Storey and Other Stories (Madame Storey) - Footner Hulbert - Страница 7

I spent a bad night, and got up ready to hate that gay and beautiful place. The air was like wine, the morning sunshine glorious, but I couldn't rise to it. Mme. Storey was a little pale too. We ate our petit déjeuner by the open window in silence.

As we sat lingering over our cigarettes, an envelope was brought to her which bore the imprint of a café in Monte Carlo. No name was written on it, but only the number of our room. She read it and handed it over to me without comment.

"DEAR R.S.

"I know that it is foolish of me to write to you, but it eases me so! They have me on the run, but so far I have been able to keep a jump or two ahead of them. I am waiting here for a friend who has promised to bring me a disguise. If I could only say some of the things that I feel! But I must not. I have no right. I can say this, though. Through you I have found myself. Whatever may happen to me now..."

There was a break at this point, and the letter was carried on in a different hand, an uneducated hand, in French. Translated, it ran:

"The gentleman told me who this was for. He had to leave in a hurry. I let him out through a back window.

"PIERRE,

"Waiter at Café des Arcades."

Mme. Storey and I exchanged an anxious glance. "Let's go and see the Grand Vizier," she said.

She was referring to M. le President of the Society of the Baths of the Sea. I nodded, and we got ready immediately.

There was nothing frivolous about his suite. Very handsome and austere. As soon as we entered we perceived that something unusual was up. Excited looking clerks were passing in and out. We had to wait until a couple of gaudy policemen made a report to Monsieur B. A presentiment of evil struck a slow chill through my veins.

When we were shown into his private office he still looked disturbed. In her forthright way Mme. Storey said:

"What has happened, Monsieur?"

"Why, nothing, nothing at all," he replied quickly—too quickly.

Mme. Storey merely looked at him in the way that draws things out of people.

"Well, a distressing accident," he said, "but nothing that need concern you or me, Madame."

She looked and waited for more.

"An unfortunate young man committed suicide last night by throwing himself over the cliffs of La Turbie."

In spite of myself a little cry was forced from me.

"What's the matter with Mademoiselle?" he asked, staring.

"She doubts if it was suicide," said Mme. Storey gravely.

"What else could it be?" he said irritably throwing up his hands. "Some poor fool who has lost all at the gaming tables! He killed himself outside our borders anyway, but the French authorities seem to think we are responsible."

"Who is he?"

"I do not know, Madame. All marks of identification had been destroyed. An investigation is in progress."

"Where is he?"

"At a mortuary in Beausoleil."

Mme. Storey's face was like marble. "Is he ... recognisable?"

"Yes, I am told that his face escaped mutilation though almost every bone in his body was broken."

"I wish to see him."

He jumped up waving his hands in distress. "No! No! it is too horrible! Isn't there somebody who could act for you? Some man?"

"I am accustomed to acting for myself," she said.

A moment or two later we were in Monsieur B's car climbing through the narrow winding streets that lead to Beausoleil, the upper town. All Monte Carlo is built like a flight of steps up the side of a mountain. Beausoleil is in French territory.

The mortuary was a private one attached to an undertaking establishment. There is a stark, nightmare quality about such places in France. At the door of the inner room Mme. Storey said kindly:

"You don't have to come in, Bella."

I shook my head, and followed at her heels like a shadow. It would have been worse to wait outside for her.

A small bare room with whitewashed walls and cement floors. A smell of iodoform. In the middle there was a slab with a sheeted form upon it; a table at the side with the dead man's clothes under another sheet. An attendant standing beside the slab pulled down the sheet a little way and we saw—what we expected to see; Raoul's beautiful head.

He was no longer glad nor sorry; neither proud nor shamefaced. Death had shaped a perfect mask of beauty. The rich brown wavy hair; the clear olive skin; the lovely mouth; and so young! so pitifully young! I began to shake inside; the tears were running down my face without my knowing it. Mme. Storey, as always when under strong emotion, was pale and cold.

She said, "This man was murdered!"

"How do you know?" gasped Monsieur B.

"His lips were sealed with surgeon's tape. If you look closely you can see traces of the gum.... I wish to see his hands."

The sheet was pulled down farther and I turned away. I could not bear any more. I heard her say:

"Observe those marks on his wrists, Monsieur. He was bound and gagged when he was carried to La Turbie."

Monsieur B. made incoherent sounds of distress.

When we had returned to his car Mme. Storey told him what we knew about the dead man. The name he had given us was no doubt an assumed one. Mme. Storey said, "I am now ready, Monsieur, to undertake the work you offered me yesterday."

Now that murder had come into it, he was not so eager. "There must be no ugly publicity," he muttered.

She looked at him coldly. "It suits me to have as little publicity as possible," she said. "But I won't consent in advance to conceal anything."

"An ugly murder! just at the beginning of the season! ruinous! ruinous!" he cried.

"You can't clean up a mess without making a bad smell," said Mme. Storey bluntly.

"Ruinous! Ruinous!"

"Very well," she said crisply, "if you wish to withdraw your offer, that is quite all right. But in that case I must warn you that I shall go ahead on my own. Whatever happens, I am going to see that the murderer of this man—I mean the real murderer, is brought to justice."

That brought him down on the run. "No! No! Madame! Of course not! Don't speak of such a thing, I beg! Certainly my offer of yesterday stands. I am anxious to co-operate with you in every way possible. No expense must be spared!" And so on. And so on.