By Wit of Woman

by Arthur W. Marchmont

  CHAPTER XV

  AN EMBARRASSING DRIVE

  I was so astonished at this turn of matters that I squeezed myself upinto as small a space as possible in the corner of the carriage, a preyto completely baffling perplexity.

  The sense of shame with which I had followed his shambling, drunkenmovements, as he was helped into the vehicle, gave way to a feeling atfirst of relief, and then of pleasure--both feelings mingled withconsummate dismay.

  Now that he was in possession of his senses, how was I to act towardhim? Under the influence of either opium or drink, he would have beeneasy enough to deal with; and I could have chosen my own moment to avowmyself.

  My crude idea had been to get him into the house, let him sleep awaythe effects, and leave him under the impression that while Madamed'Artelle had been with him in the carriage, I had contrived to get heraway. I was not ready to show my hand yet; and a nervous embarrassingfear of what he would think of this act of mine began to possess me.

  I was soon worried by another unpleasant thought. While he remainedunder the impression that I was Madame d'Artelle, I was just animpostor, spying upon the relationship between them, of all parts inthe world the most repugnant for me to have to play with him.

  "I suppose you're too surprised to speak?" he said presently. "Isanything the matter?"

  I made no answer, except to draw even further into my corner. Henoticed it and laughed.

  "Bit afraid of me, are you? You needn't be. I'm not dangerous, evenif I'm not drugged. But I have been any time during the lastthree-and-thirty hours. You see I haven't seen you, and I haven'ttouched it ever since yesterday morning."

  There was a bitterness in his tone I had not heard in it before; butthe words filled me with pleasure.

  "Not since midday yesterday, Henriette. Three-and-thirty hours: nearlytwo thousand minutes: every minute like an hour of hell. You didn'tthink I'd got the strength, I know. Neither did Gustav. And I supposeI'm only a fool to have done it--an infernal fool, that's all. It'sgetting easier already; but I'd give ten thousand kronen for a tastenow--one little wee taste."

  He sat suddenly bolt upright, clenched his fist and flung it out infront of him, and groaned as if the fever of temptation had laid holdof him with irresistible force.

  "You don't seem to care," he said, bitterly, turning to me: and thenhis voice became strained and tense. "But you'd better. You hearthat, Henriette, you'd better. You keep it from me or as there's a skyabove us I wouldn't trust myself not to kill you."

  Impulsively I stretched out my hand and laid it on his arm, as if tocalm him. But he shook it off impatiently.

  "All that's passed," he cried. "Two thousand hours of hell can changea man. They've changed me. I can see things now, and mean to seemore. That's why I've come on this business. That and----" his voicefell and his head drooped, and with his lazy laugh he murmured--"What afool I am, just because a girl----" The sentence was left unfinished,and his fingers stole to the pocket as if in search of the drug.

  "I must smoke or have it. Not 'her sake' nor a million 'her sakes'will keep me from it if I don't. I shall stop the carriage and get it."

  He lit a cigar and held the match up, and peered closely at me untilthe little flame flickered out. Then he leaned back and puffedfiercely, filling the carriage with the smoke, and making me cough. Atthat, he let down the window on his side sharply and bent forward thatthe air might blow on his face.

  By the light of the street lamps I saw that his face was drawn andlined as if with the pain and passion of the struggle through which hehad passed.

  "Have we far to go?" he asked, raising his voice in consequence of thenoise from the open window. I did not answer, and he shrugged hisshoulders. "You're a cheerful companion for a man in my mood," hecried, almost contemptuously, as he closed the window with a shiver ofcold.

  He leant back in his seat, drew his coat closely about him, and smokedin silence, but with less vehemence. Presently he found the silenceoppressive.

  "One of us must talk," he said then. "I wonder why I'm here and whatthe devil will come of it!" he exclaimed, laughing.

  I wondered, too, what would come of it; but I held my tongue. I hadresolved not to speak during the whole ride if I could avoid it, so asnot to reveal myself. And if I could reach the house without hisdiscovering my deception, I saw a way by which I could mislead him.

  "What are you wrapped up like that for? Throw your cloak back," hesaid next, and put out his hand as if to do it. I drew it closer roundme. "Then you're not deaf as well as dumb," he laughed. "What's thematter with you? I can find a way to make you speak, I think--oryou've been just play-acting ever since I knew you."

  He bent toward me until his face was close to my veil. "You're notgenerally afraid to show your face. And you needn't be, it's prettyenough. You can hear that I know. A pretty woman never had a deaf earfor a truth like that--and it is truth; no more, no less than thetruth. It didn't need either opium or drink for me to know that,Henriette--though you plied me with plenty of both for that matter.Can you deny that?"

  He paused for me to answer; but I did not; and he leant back in hisseat again.

  "Yes, you're a beautiful woman, Henriette, and Gustav's a very clever,long-headed fellow--but between you, you made a bad mistake. Youshould have known better than to conjure up that old past of mine. Youshouldn't have had a friend about you with haunting eyes. Heavens, howthey haunted me--aye, and haunt me now. Doesn't that make you speak?No? Then I'll tell you more. That girl's eyes killed at a strokeevery thought in my mind about you. More than that--it's just for hersake, I've endured all these hours of hell. I can trust you not totell her that--but it's true, Henriette, just as true as that you're abeautiful woman."

  Evidently he looked for some sharp outburst from me, for he spoke in adeliberate, taunting way as if to provoke me. And when I made no sign,he was sorely perplexed.

  "You are going to explain a lot of things to me presently--I've comefor that and that only--but I'll tell you something first that youdon't know. I met that friend of yours yesterday morning when I wasriding in the Stadtwalchen. We had quite a long and almost intimatetalk, and she took me right back across the years to the past; and byno more than a word, a touch and a glance, she put something between meand the devil I had loved, until I hated it and hated myself for havingloved it. And for the sake of what she said, I've been in hell eversince. But she did it; she alone, and I've fought against the cursedthing because of her words and her eyes. God, what it has cost me!"He ended with a weary, heavy sigh.

  That in my great gladness at hearing this, I did not betray myself wasonly due to the strong curb I had put on my feelings. But I had heardhis secret by treachery, and now, more than ever, I was eager to keepmy identity from him. I longed for the drive to come to an end, and Ilooked out anxiously to try and see even in the darkness that we werereaching our destination.

  "Yes, Henriette, those haunting eyes of hers have saved me, so far," hebegan again. "Saved me, even when it seemed as if all the fiends inhell were just dragging and forcing me to take it. I didn't. Morethan once the thing was all but between my lips; but she saved me. ButI must see her again, or I shan't hold out. I must hear her voice andfeel the touch of her hand. Where is she, Henriette? Where is she?That's one of the questions you shall answer. Gustav says she has goneto Paris. They told me the same at your house to-day--I was theretwice, though you didn't know it. And you'll have to tell me thatamong the other things. You can tell me that now," he said almostfiercely, as he bent toward me again and stretched out a hand as if toseize mine.

  I gave up my secret for lost; but the carriage slackened suddenly andwith a quick swerve drove into the gates of the house.

  Karl let the windows down and peered out curiously; and when thecarriage door was opened by the footman, he got out and stood offeringme a hand to alight. But I gathered my cloak carefully about me andspringing out ran past him and fled into the house an
d upstairs as fastas I could, whispering to James Perry who had opened the door to comeafter me presently.

  I chose a room at random and locking the door behind me, I flung myselfon the bed in the dark, face downwards, and burst into a tempest ofhysterical tears.

  They were tears of neither pleasure nor grief. They were violent butwithout passion; and came rather as the swift loosening of the pentstrain of excitement during the drive from the city. At least so Ithought.

  I do not think I had shed a tear since my uncle's death until thatmoment; and although they gave me intense relief, I remember feelingalmost ashamed of myself for my weakness. To cry like a hystericalwoman was so out of character with my resolve to play a man's part inthis struggle!

  The tempest was soon over, and I sat on the side of the bed and tookoff the veil and threw aside the cloak which had been so valuable adisguise, and was drawing the pins out of my hat when I remembered thatI must be careful not to disarrange my hair. I was going to pretend toKarl that I had been in the house all the time; and my appearance mustbear out that story.

  I groped my way to the dressing-table by the window and fumbled aboutfor a match to get a light of some kind; and finding none, drew up theblind. The moon had risen, and this gave a faint light; but it was notenough for my purpose, so I pulled back the curtain, glancing out as Idid so.

  The window looked upon the garden in the front, and I stood a momentrecalling the plan of the house as I had fixed it in my mind when I hadgone over it.

  I remembered then what for the instant I had stupidly forgotten; thatthe electric light was installed, and I was turning away to find theswitch, when I caught sight of a man moving in the shrubbery.

  I thought at first it might be Karl, smoking, or Perry or his son onwatch; but it was not. The figure was much too tall for either of thePerrys; and the movements too stealthy and cautious for Karl.

  The light was not sufficient for me to get anything like a clear viewof the man; yet as he moved there was something about him that seemedfamiliar. I watched him with growing interest; and presently, havingapparently made sure that he was unobserved, he crossed the moonlitgrass quickly to the window of the room that was directly underneathmine.

  I recognized him then. It was Colonel Katona.

  I threw open my window noisily; and he darted away under the shadow ofthe trees and hurried out of the garden.

  It was no mere chance then that he had been in the Radialstrasse at themoment when the carriage was to be there. Some one had brought himthere to be a witness of Karl's escapade. Who had done so, and why?Not Karl; nor Madame d'Artelle; and no one else had known of it butGustav and myself.

  I had seen him speak to Gustav as the carriage wheeled round--wait, Irecalled the two furtive glances which Gustav had cast about as he hadcome up to the carriage with Karl; and the expression of satisfactionafter the second of them.

  This was Gustav's work, then. And why had he done it? Why had hebrought Colonel Katona, of all men in Pesth, to see Karl run away withMadame d'Artelle? Had any other man been picked out, I would have saidit was merely that there might be an independent witness. But ColonelKatona--and then the reason seemed to flash into my thoughts,suggesting a scheme subtle and treacherous enough to be worthy of eventhe worst thoughts I had ever had of Count Gustav.

  I thought rapidly how I could put this new idea of mine to the test,and how use it for my own purposes. But before I could decide, I heardhesitating steps in the corridor outside my room. Some one knockedgently at the doors of other rooms and then at mine.

  "Are you there, miss?"

  It was James Perry's voice. "Yes," I answered; and closing the windowand drawing down the blind, I opened the door.

  "The gentleman is asking for Madame d'Artelle, miss," he said. "Whatanswer am I to give him?"

  "I will take it myself," I replied. I switched on the light and madesure that my hair was all right. "What about the servants, James?" Iasked.

  "There are two woman servants only, miss; and my father and myself. Wedid as you said, and sent away a footman who was here."

  "You have done very well. If you are asked any more questions aboutMadame d'Artelle, say that she left the house the moment after thecarriage arrived, and that I have been here some hours."

  "Yes, miss." He was very perplexed and, I think, troubled. We wentdownstairs, and he showed me the room where Karl was. It was directlyunder that in which I had been.

  It was to the window of that room, then, I had seen Colonel Katonacross in the moonlight.