Читать книгу The Corner House - Fred M. White - Страница 8

The house seemed suddenly to have developed into a place of horrors. Hetty had never been quite happy there. She had always distrusted and been a little afraid of Countess Lalage. There was something inscrutable about her face, a Satanic suggestion behind her brilliant beauty.

There were little signs, too, that only a woman notices. It was as if the girl had found herself in a house of criminals. It was all wonderfully refined and luxurious, a perfectly appointed house, but after a year there Hetty knew absolutely nothing as to the past of her employer.

She flew up the stairs headlong with that blind unreasoning terror upon her. A big clock suddenly striking two went off in her ears like a rifle shot. She caught a glimpse of her own face in a mirror. Was that white scared visage her own sunny, happy face?

Without ceremony she darted into Countess Lalage's bedroom. The lights were still up, and the mistress of the house was brushing out her long black hair. She was cool and collected enough now.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"A man in the morning room," gasped Hetty. "A man with a horrid crooked nose and hands all over queer orange spots. Shall I alarm the house----"

"Come with me," Leona Lalage replied. "You are dreaming. Of course, there is no man in the house. Come along."

There was no sign of fear or dismay or anything else about the woman in white with the long black hair streaming over her shoulders. Yet she was annoyed, and her brains were working quickly. It was quiet in the corridor, save the little fretful whine from the child for something to drink.

"Ah, you have been down for Mamie," the Countess exclaimed. "She had one of her turns again. Give the poor child some of that soda-water and then follow me. Be quick."

Mamie drank greedily and thirstily. Then her head dropped and her eyes closed. With her heart still beating furiously, Hetty ran down the stairs. There was nobody in the morning room but Countess Lalage. She was smiling in a contemptuous manner.

"I have been in every room," she said. "There is positively nobody there. I shall have to send you away for a change of air. If you have no further dreams to tell me we had better go to bed."

Hetty had nothing to say. She was tired and worn out, and the cool contempt of her employer was galling. The Countess came into her bedroom presently; all her coldness had gone. She was the winning, gracious woman now as the world knew her. She had a little medicine glass in her hand.

"I am sorry I spoke harshly to you just now," she said. "Drink this. It is my own pet mixture of sal volatile and a spirit of my own. It will act like a charm on those frayed nerves of yours."

Hetty drank the mixture gratefully. The few kind words were soothing. If there was anything really wrong the Countess could not have behaved like that. Her head touched the pillow, something delicious and warm seemed to float over her, and she was sound asleep.

Leona closed the door behind her with a snap. She was alert and vigorous as a general in action now. She passed downstairs swiftly but firmly, and into the morning room. One by one she snapped up the electric lights till the whole room was bathed in a golden glow.

"Now, you scoundrel, come out," she cried.

The heavy curtains parted and the figure of a man emerged. He was short, yet powerfully made, with a curious twist from the hip as if he were deformed in some way. Ragged hair fringed his chin and lips. His long nose was crooked on one side; his equally long hands were covered with great orange freckles. An object of mistrust and suspicion everywhere.

The man's eyes were perhaps the worst part of him--dull, red, and bloated, full of a certain ferocious cowardliness. They were the eyes of a man who drank to excess. The red rims twitched.

"None of that with me," he growled. "Do you know who I am, Countess Lalage? I am Leon Lalage, Count of the Holy Roman Empire, and your husband. Incomparable woman, you cannot alter that fact. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, till death do us part!"

Death was near parting them now if the gleam in Leona Lalage's eyes meant anything. She would have given half her splendour, years of her life, to see that man lying dead at her feet. If she could have slain him and safely disposed of his body she would have done so.

"How did you get here?" she asked curtly. "How did you find me out?"

The man laughed silently, horribly, his body twisting as if set on wires.

"Never mind that," he said hoarsely. "I did find you out, and here I am. Oh, it was a cunning plot of yours--so near and yet so far away. And as much brandy as I could drink so that I might drink myself to death, and after that perhaps a handsome monument testifying to my virtues. But I'm not going to stand it any more, I'm not going back there."

No reply for a moment, nothing but a quick heaving of the broad bosom, a livid play like summer lightning in the dark eyes. The man lighted a cigarette and puffed it noisily.

"I've got you, my lady," he said hoarsely. "Last time we parted you were not so comfortable as you are now, a troisième and a few francs per day out of the cards when the police were complaisant. Here you have everything. There are a score of things that I could pawn for enough to keep me going for months. Ma foi, but you must be very rich."

"I have not £20 of ready money in the world."

"Give me carte blanche and I will put that right for you. I bear no malice. Reverse the positions and I shall do my best to put you out of the way. But I am not going back there any more."

"What do you propose to do, then?"

"Retire to the Continent. Tomorrow you let me have £500 as a guarantee of good faith. Then I leave you--for the present. After that you can marry the young doctor who has won your affections and be happy--for, say a week."

Leona Lalage's white teeth came together with a click. It was good for the man that she had no weapon in her hand. It was hard work to keep down the tornado of passion that filled her. It seemed hard to imagine that she had once loved this man. Heavens! what a fool she once was.

"You know too much," she said quietly. "If that fool Giuseppe had done his duty you would have gone down to your drunkard's grave in ignorance. But you are not going on the Continent tomorrow or the next day. Fool, fool, have you not lived long enough to know that all that glitters is not gold! For the moment I am living on my reputation and the splendour of this house. Not one penny have I paid for it. People hold documents and title deeds of mine that are forgeries. I have a grand coup that may come off, and again it may fail. For the moment I am penniless."

The man nodded. The woman was speaking the truth, and he knew it.

"And in the meantime what do you propose to do?" she asked, swiftly.

"There is but one thing for it," the man responded. "There is ever before my eyes the fear of the police. Therefore I go back to my prison house till you are ready. But I have escaped once, and I shall escape again. Play me false, and I will come out and denounce you before a whole crowd of your painted butterflies. I could say to your medical Adonis----"

"Be silent," Leona Lalage hissed, "take heed lest you go too far. Begone, get back to your kennel, anywhere out of my sight. Do you think I want to keep you near me an hour longer than is necessary?"

He was gone at last; the hall door closed behind him. His footsteps echoed on the pavement a few yards and then stopped. After that the whole world seemed to be wrapped in silence. It was nearly dawn before Leona Lalage crept into bed. She carefully locked away some papers that she had almost committed to heart. There was triumph in her sleepy eyes.

"Freedom and revenge," she murmured. "What good words they are. Tomorrow! Well, tomorrow shall be my destruction or my Waterloo!"