The Mysterious Mr. Miller
Page 7
was strongly suspected thatthe source of Mr Miller's wealth at that moment was the proceeds of avery cleverly planned robbery at the Commercial Bank in Bordeaux. WhenI told my friend how I had denounced Miller's trick, he looked grave andsaid: `That was very injudicious. Those people might seek revenge.' Ilaughed in derision, but he was so serious, and so strongly urged me tobe careful, that I began to repent my boldness in making the charge.Miller and his friends were, so my friend told me, a dangerous lot."
"But if Lucie has the misfortune to have a father who is a scoundrel, itsurely is no reason why she herself should be bad?" I remarked.
"You can't touch pitch without being soiled, my dear fellow. Think ofthe life of a young girl among such a crowd as that! Ah! you've neverseen them--you can have no idea what they're like."
"But what direct charge do you allege against her?" I asked. "Speakquite plainly, for I'm neither her friend nor her enemy. She has to-daytold me certain things that have held me bewildered, and naturally I'mall curiosity to ascertain something concerning her."
"Well," he said, casting himself again into the big chair and smokingvigorously, "it was like this. One day about a month afterwards therecame to stay with me at the Continental a wealthy young Chilian, ManuelCarrera by name, whom I had first met when, two years before, we hadfought side by side in the streets of Valparaiso during the revolution.He and I were partisans of the Government, of which his father wasMinister of the Interior. Now that the Government had been restored heoccupied a very important post in the Treasury, and had come to Paris totransact some business with the Banque de France. At first we weretogether every evening, and very often the greater part of the day, butof a sudden he seemed to prefer to go about Paris alone, for he had, hetold me, met some other friends. For a fortnight or so I had verylittle of his company; but one afternoon he surprised me by saying thathe was going down to Enghien to make a call. I offered to accompanyhim, saying that I could amuse myself at a cafe while he was calling,and that we might afterwards dine together at the Casino. Truth totell, I had not been to Enghien since that well-remembered night, and Iwanted to see whether the Villa du Lac was still occupied. To mysurprise, his destination proved to be that very villa. He left me andentered the big gates before I had time to warn him of Miller, thereforeI turned on my heel and took a cab to the cafe of the Casino situated onthe opposite shore of the lake. Where I sat, at one of the little `tin'tables beneath the trees, the water stretched before me, and beyond agreen, well-kept lawn and the big white villa were shining through thetrees. I lit a cigar and sat wondering. Suddenly across the lawn I sawtwo figures strolling slowly. One was a slim young girl in a whitemuslin dress girdled with pale blue, her companion a man in greyflannels and a panama. Then the truth was plain. My friend had fallenin love with Lucie Miller. His frequent absences were thus accountedfor. I watched them as they sat together upon the garden seat facingthe lake, and saw that he was telling her something to which she waslistening very attentively, her head bowed as though in deep emotion.Was he declaring his love, I wondered? For fully half an hour they satthere, when at last he rose, threw off his coat, and then both steppinginto the boat at the bottom of the lawn he slowly rowed her away up thelake until behind the island they passed from my sight."
Sammy was silent, thinking deeply. A sigh escaped him.
"And then?"
"What happened immediately afterwards will probably never be known," hesaid, in a hard, hoarse voice. "I only know that somewhere about nineo'clock that same evening Carrera's despatch-box in his room at theContinental was opened with its proper key, and Chilian Governmentsecurities which he had only that day redeemed from the bank andintended to carry back to Valparaiso as well as a lot of negotiablebonds were all abstracted, together with a large sum in Frenchbank-notes--the value altogether being about eighty thousand pounds. Atmidnight the poor fellow lay in the same room with a bullet in hisbrain. He realised how he had been tricked; how the key had been takenfrom his jacket pocket while he had taken the fair Lucie out upon thelake, and in a fit of chagrin and despair he took his revolver and endedhis life."
"He committed suicide!" I gasped. "Didn't you see him after he wentout upon the lake; didn't you warn him?"
"No. I meant to. But, alas! I was too late. I waited an hour at theCasino; then returned to Paris; and imagine my horror when I discoverednext morning what had happened."
"What did you do?"
"I went at once to the Prefecture of Police and gave information. Withthree detectives I went down to Enghien, but we found the Villa du Lacuninhabited. The mysterious Mr Miller and his pretty daughter hadalready flown. That was three years ago, and from that afternoon untilhalf an hour ago I have never set eyes upon the dark-eyed girl who socleverly assisted her father in his ingenious schemes."
"But are you sure she is the same?" I asked. "You admit that she haschanged."
"She has. She's grown more beautiful, but she is the same, my dearfellow--the same. Is it any wonder that I hate her?"
CHAPTER SIX.
THE TRUTH ABOUT THE STRANGER.
I sat staring at my friend, unable to utter a word.
In the past twenty-four hours, through no fault or seeking of my own, Ihad suddenly been plunged into a maze of mystery, and there had beenrevealed to me a grave personal peril of which I had been in utterignorance.
What the sweet, open-faced girl had divulged to me had caused me muchamazement, yet this extraordinary story of Sammy's was utterlydumbfounding. I could not bring myself to believe that the girl who hadso simply confessed to me her distress had wilfully assisted her fatherin robbing young Carrera, thereby causing him to take his life. To meit was utterly incredible.
Yet the fact that she had any connection with the mysterious Italian nowlying dead above caused me to ponder. She knew the secret of thatincident in quiet old Pisa. Yes. She was a mystery.
Had she told me the actual truth? That was the question which greatlypuzzled me.
Through the following day and the next when, with Sammy, I followed theItalian to his lonely grave at Highgate, I recalled every incident ofthat strange sequence of circumstances, and longed again to see andquestion her.
Sammy, with that easy irresponsibility which was one of his chiefcharacteristics, declared that Lucie, for obvious reasons, would notshow herself again. But, on the other hand, I argued that if hisallegation that she had come to Granville Gardens in order to meet mewere correct, then she would return. She had, I pointed out, nosuspicion that he was there and had recognised her. Therefore there wasnothing to prevent her seeking me.
The whole circumstances were both romantic and puzzling.
The very man who she had alleged had plotted with the woman Hardwickagainst me had entrusted his most valuable possessions to me. Why? Hadthe small kindness I had shown him turned his heart towards me?Certainly he had paid me for my services--the sum of two hundred pounds.
Once or twice I wondered how I stood legally. The man was dead, yet Ihad a faint suspicion that I had no legal right whatsoever to administerhis estate. There might be a will somewhere, and if legatees cameforward I might one day find myself in a very queer and awkwardposition.
But I told Sammy nothing of this. I deemed it best to preserve silenceboth as regards the money and the curious packet that I was to keepthree years.
A week went by. The man who had given his name as Massari had beeninterred, the expenses paid, and life at Mrs Gilbert's had resumed itsnormal quiet. Indeed, not until three days after the funeral were theother guests let into the tragic secret of the stranger's sudden death.Then for a day or two the whole place was agog and various theoriesformed. In London a foreigner is always viewed with a certain amount ofsuspicion, perhaps on account of our insular proclivities, perhapsbecause the majority of Londoners know no other language beyond asmattering of elementary French.
Often and often, when alone in our little den at the back of the house,Sammy and I discussed the curio
us affair, but neither of us was able toarrive at any satisfactory conclusion.
To be in order, I called in a solicitor named Price whom I knew, and aweek after Massari's death we opened his portmanteaux together andexamined the contents.
They presented several surprises. Sammy was, of course, with us, takingan eager interest in the affair and helping to examine the documentswhich we found. He was of little use, however, for they were mostly inItalian, a language of which both my companions were almost entirelyignorant.
The first fact I established was that the name of the deceased was notMassari but Giovanni Nardini. This surprised us all, for Nardini wasvery well-known in Italy, having held the portfolio of Justice in theMinistry overthrown only a week before, and having made himselfconspicuous in his perpetual war with the Socialist party in