Читать книгу A Royal Wrong - Fred M. White - Страница 9

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Hugh Childers stood on the open gangway of the railway car with the wind streaming upon him. It was not too warm for the time of year; the motion of the train set up a rushing breeze, but his face was damp with sweat and his limbs were moist as he peered into the darkness, anxiety shaking him from head to foot.

Had he been successful? Had the carefully-planned scheme ended in triumph? Or, on the other hand, was it possible that disaster had overtaken it? But this thought was too painful to dwell upon. He put it from him as a thing to be relegated to forgetfulness. He did not see how he could fail. If he had, then he would know no happiness again. If his plan had miscarried, he would have blood on his hands. And whose blood? Childers reeled as he thought of it. He stood glaring into the darkness as if looking for something in the rear of the train, where were pools and marshes reflecting the stars in the clear depths. Leaning over the side of the car, Childers saw the smooth water between the sleepers. The train seemed to have travelled miles in the last few seconds.

Away on the sky line, or so it appeared to the eager watcher, a little blue point of flame suddenly stabbed the darkness. It was as if a star had slipped low down on the horizon and had hung there. Its dazzling brilliancy radiated in every direction; for an instant it was still, then it moved three times quickly in a zig-zag of flame. The darkness closed over it, and it was seen no more.

Childers sobbed with relief. He had no desire to live through those last few minutes again. It was this kind of thing that destroyed the nerve, that turned a man's hair grey in a night. He wiped from his face something that was not all the free play of his skin. He staggered along with his hand on the brass rail, his fingers touching the sliding door. His hand was so unsteady that he could not draw it back for a moment. As he turned to shut it again he saw he had not been alone on the platform. Madame Regnier was behind him.

"Have you been outside, too?" he stammered.

"I have," the singer replied. "I went out by the door on the other side of the train. You see I am used to cars of this kind—I have travelled in America so much. I like to sit out in the darkness as we rush along, to see the stars, to look on the great houses with the lights in the windows. It is noisier inside the carriage, and my head aches."

Childers murmured some reply. He was wondering how long Madame Regnier had been there and how much she had seen. Her next question startled him.

"Where is Lady Letty Stanborough?" she asked.

"I can't tell you," Childers said. "With the others, probably."

The singer did not reply for the instant. Inside when the electric lamps shone on her face, Hugh could see how deadly pale she was.

"You mean to say that Lady Letty has not been outside with you?" she asked.

Childers shook his head. He preferred not to speak at that moment. He had not expected a collapse of his programme such as this seemed to threaten.

"You need have no anxiety," he said. "Lady Letty is perfectly safe."

Madame Regnier gave him one long searching look before her eyes fell. Within the car it was a startling contrast to the starry night and the rushing wind on the platform. The atmosphere was heavy and oppressive. The carriages seemed to reek of heavy perfume. In the far coach half a dozen tables were given over to the inevitable bridge. The first compartment was empty. Madame Regnier dropped into a chair and signified to her companion to do likewise. Childers could see that she was deadly pale—he wondered if his own agitation was reflected on his face.

"How did society amuse itself indoors before bridge was invented?" Madame Regnier said. "How did the fools manage to kill time? How much longer will the craze last? You are right, my dear Hugh, quite right to deny that Lady Letty was with you just now."

The attack was so swift and unexpected that Childers started.

"I didn't deny it," he said. "You made an assertion that I did not contradict. I assured you that Lady Letty was perfectly safe, and I am prepared to stake my life upon it."

"She is safe so far as Stephen Du Cros is concerned, you mean?"

"Or anybody else for that matter. If you are really a friend of Lady Letty's——"

"A friend! My dear boy, I am more than that. She is the one woman I admire above all others. I would do anything for her. People say she is cold and hard. Never was a greater mistake. She does not talk gush or drivel; she does not weep over her friends one minute and forget them the next. She did me a great service once that I shall never forget. I flatter myself I can speak to her as no other woman can. She is ready to listen to me because she knows what I think of her. It was a sad and bitter hour for me when I knew she had promised to marry Du Cros. It was none the less bitter because I saw from the first the thing was inevitable. If that old rascal Stanborough was to be saved, it was the only way. It is an old story that will be told again and again, but it is none the less repulsive. This family pride is a queer thing. A girl sacrifices herself to save the honour of her father when everybody knows that he has no honour left. She sells her body and her soul—the thing is horrible. Yet she would not borrow from me. I am rich; I have more money than I shall ever spend; I value my jewels less than my little dog. I offered all to her and she refused them. I pointed out to her that she loved another man——"

"My dear Madame Regnier!" Hugh protested.

"Well is it not a fact?" the cantatrice retorted in her impulsive way. "Would you not be the last to deny it? Don't you know she is in love with another man?"

"She has never told me as much," Childers prevaricated.

"What is the use of speaking in this childish way! Haven't you been in love with her for years? Hasn't she cared for you as long? Perhaps neither of you realised it fully until fate threw Lady Letty into the hands of Du Cros. Then you found it out. I watched you two last night at Dorchester Gardens. You see, I have the artistic temperament, and things like that are plain to me. It would have been better had you complied with your father's wishes, Hugh. Had you done so, you could afford to laugh at Du Cros now."

"I could not go back to my father in these circumstances," Hugh said.

"Here is family pride again! In the name of heaven, why not? You are playing with your life's happiness. You two are devoted to each other, and yet I dare swear that no word of love has ever passed between you! Nevertheless, the understanding is complete. You have made up your mind that at any cost Lady Letty shall be saved from that man. You are an artist, too; you feel that the end justifies the means. You would be a modern Virginius and save the child from a worse fate. I am not saying you are wrong. But why didn't you kill the child instead?"

The woman's voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper. What on earth was she driving at? Childers asked himself. Then it burst upon him suddenly. A smile forced itself to his lips.

"Let us understand one another," he said. "You mean that I should be prepared to kill Lady Letty to save her from the calamity of being Stephen Du Cros's wife."

"I do," Madame Regnier said stubbornly. "That's exactly what I mean. If I had seen you do it, if I knew you had done it to-night, I should remain silent. Nothing would induce me to come forward and give evidence against you. I may be wrong, of course——"

"Of course you are," Hugh interrupted. "Too much romantic opera has given you a sentimental, sensational view of life. Good heavens! to think I should so far forget myself—no, no, my dear Madame Regnier, the thing is impossible! For the loyalty of your friendship I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I feel how genuine it is. Nor will I deny that Lady Letty is the only woman in the world for me. But I tell you she is safe. She is as safe at this moment as if she were in her own bed. It is imperative that she should do certain things to-night and that nobody but myself should know of them. Even to you I cannot betray confidence. The express stops presently at Stoneleigh Cross to pick up Lady Violet Ringwood. When this has happened you shall see Lady Letty, and perhaps she will confide in you."

"Then the age of miracles is not yet past?" Madame Regnier asked.

"I hope not. But there are many apparent miracles quite capable of an explanation if you can only get to the bottom of them. And this is one of them. In any case you are pledged to silence. I have given you my word of honour that Lady Letty is quite safe. You would not stand in the way of her getting the better of Stephen Du Cros?"

The prima donna smiled. There was a strange gleam in her eyes.

"What a question!" she exclaimed. "Why, if the worst came to the worst, I could remove Du Cros out of the way myself. Oh! it would not be very difficult. This has been a queer talk, but I am glad to have been a party to it. I won't ask any impertinent questions. But when a lady of position disappears from a train going at sixty miles an hour and a disappointed lover is in a position to solve the mystery, why——"

Childers put up his hand for silence. Two or three women were coming from the carriage where the bridge was in progress. They were chattering eagerly, and seemed to be annoyed about something.

"It is almost uncanny," one of them said shrilly. "The way that woman has been winning lately is perfectly wicked. Eight successive rubbers! It doesn't matter who her partner is, she nets the money all the same. She knows by instinct where the cards lie and plays up to them accordingly. Look at that amazing heart declaration of hers just now!"

"A petty jealous, envious lot," Childers whispered. "Whom are they talking about?"

"Lady Torringdor," Madame Regnier said. "She has been winning everything lately."