eightdays, I had entered into the possession of a thousand pounds, and was,moreover, the guest of one of the smartest hostesses in England.
I had been at Atworth about a fortnight, and had written twice toHoefer, but, as yet, had received no response. He was a sorrycorrespondent, I knew, for when he wrote it was a painful effort with aquill.
Bob Raymond had written me one of those flippant notes characteristic ofhim; but to this I had not replied, for I could not rid myself of thebelief that he had somehow played me false.
One evening, while sitting in the hall with my hostess, in the quiethour that precedes the dressing-bell, she, of her own accord, began tochat about the curious phenomena in Gloucester Square.
"I have told my husband nothing," she said. "I do hope your friend willdiscover the cause before we return to town."
"If he does not, then it would be best to keep the door locked," I said."At present the affair is still unexplained."
"Fortunately Beryl is quite as well as ever--thanks to you and to him."
"It was a happy thought of yours to call me," I said. "Hoefer was theonly man in London who could give her back her life, and, if ever themystery is solved, it is he who will solve it."
I noticed that she was unusually pale, whether on account of the heat,or from mental agitation, I could not determine. The day had been ablazing one--so hot, indeed, that no one had been out before tea. Atthat moment every one had gone forth except ourselves, and, as she satin a cane rocking-chair, swinging herself lazily to and fro, she lookedlittle more than a girl, her cream serge tennis-dress imparting to herquite a juvenile appearance.
"I hope you are not bored here, Doctor," she said presently, after wehad been talking for some time.
"Bored?" I laughed. "Why, one has not a moment in which to be bored.This is the first half-hour of repose I've had since I arrived here."
She looked at me strangely, and, with a curious smile, said--
"Because you are always so taken up with Beryl."
"With Beryl!" I echoed, starting quickly. "I really did not knowthat--" I hastened to protest.
"Ah, no," she laughed, "To excuse yourself is useless. The truth isquite patent to me if not to the others."
"The truth of what?" I inquired, with affected ignorance.
"The truth that you love her."
I laughed aloud, scouting the idea. I did not intend to show my hand,for I was never certain of her tactics.
"My dear Doctor," she said presently, "you may deny it, if you like, butI have my eyes open, and I know that in your heart you love her."
"Then you know my feelings better than myself," I responded, inwardlyangry that I should have acted in such a manner as to cause her tonotice my infatuation.
"One's actions often betray one's heart. Yours have done," she replied."But I would warn you that love with Beryl is a dangerous game."
"Dangerous! I don't understand you."
"I mean that you must not love her. It is impossible."
"Why impossible?"
"For one simple and very good reason," she responded. Then, lookingstraight in my face, she added, "Could you, Doctor, keep a secret if Itold you one?"
"I think I could. It would not be the first one I've kept."
"Well, it is for the sake of your own happiness that I tell you this,"she said. "You will promise never to breathe a word to her if I tellyou."
"I promise, of course."
She hesitated, with her dark eyes fixed upon mine. Then she said, in alow voice--
"Beryl is already married."
"To whom?" I asked, so calmly that I think I surprised her.
"To whom I cannot tell you."
"Why not? Surely it is no secret."
"Yes, it is a secret. That is why I dare not tell you her husband'sname."
"Is she actually the wife of young Chetwode?"
"Certainly not."
"But she is engaged to him," I observed.
"She is believed to be," my hostess announced, "but such is not reallythe case."
"And her husband? Where is he?"
It was strange that I should be asking such a question about my ownwhereabouts.
"In London, I think."
"Then he is quite content that his wife should pose as the affiancedbride of young Chetwode? Such an arrangement is certainly ratherstrange."
"I know nothing of the whys and wherefores," she replied. "I only knowthat she is already married, and I warn you not to lose your heart toher."
"Well, what you have told me is curious, but I think--"
The remainder of the sentence died upon my lips, for at that momentBeryl burst gaily into the hall, dusty and flushed after cycling,exclaiming--
"We've had such an awfully jolly ride. But the others came along soslowly that Connie and I scorched home all the way from Monkton. Howstifling it is to-night!" And she drew the pins from her hat, and,sinking into a chair, began fanning herself, while, at the same moment,her companion, Connie Knowles, a rather smart girl who was one of theparty, also entered.
Hence our conversation was interrupted--a fact which for several reasonsI much regretted. Yet from her words, it seemed plain that she did notknow that I was actually her cousin's husband. She knew Beryl's secret,that she was married, but to whom she was unaware.
There is an old saying among the _contadinelli_ of the Tuscan mountains,"Le donne dicono semure i vero; ma non lo dicono tutto intero." Alas,that it is so true!
That same evening when, after dressing, I descended for dinner, I foundBeryl in the study, scribbling a note which, having finished, she gaveto the servant.
"Is he waiting?" she inquired.
"Yes, miss."
"Then give it to him--with this;" and she handed the girl a shilling.
When, however, she noticed me standing in the doorway she seemed just atrifle confused. In this message I scented something suspicious; but,affecting to take no notice, walked at her side down the corridor intothe hall to await the others. She wore a toilette that night which borethe cut of a first-class _couturier_. It was a handsome heliotrope gownwith a collar of seed pearls. After dining we danced together, and, inso doing, I glanced down at her white, heaving chest, for her corsagewas a trifle lower than others she had hitherto worn. I found that forwhich my eyes were searching--a tiny dark mark low down, and only justvisible above the lace edging of the gown--the tattoo mark which I haddiscovered on that fateful day, the mark of the three hearts entwined.
What, I wondered, did that indelible device denote?
That it had some significance was certain. I had been waltzing with herfor perhaps five minutes, when suddenly I withdrew my hand from herwaist, and halting, reeled and almost fell.
"Why, Doctor," she cried, "what's the matter? How pale you are?"
"Nothing," I gasped, endeavouring to reassure her. "A little faintness,that is all. I'll go out into the night." And, unnoticed by theothers, I staggered out upon the broad, gravelled terrace which ran thewhole length of the house.
She had walked beside me in alarm, and, when we were alone, suggestedthat she should obtain assistance.
"No," I said; "I shall be better in a moment."
"How do you feel?" she inquired, greatly concerned.
"As though I had suddenly become frozen," I answered. "It is the samesensation as when I entered that room at Gloucester Square."
"Impossible!" she cried in alarm.
"Yes," I said; "it is unaccountable--quite unaccountable."
The circumstance was absolutely beyond credence. I stood there, for afew minutes, leaning upon her arm, which she offered me, and slowly thecurious sensation died away, until a quarter of an hour afterwards Ifound myself quite as vigorous as I had been before. Neither of us,however, danced again, but lighting a cigar, I spent some time strollingwith her up and down the terrace, enjoying the calm, warm, starlitnight.
We discussed my mysterious seizure a good deal, but could arrive at noconclusion.
After some hesitation I broached the subject which was very near myheart.
"I have heard nothing of late of Chetwode," I said. "Where is he?"
"I don't know," she responded. "His regiment has left Hounslow forYork, you know."
"And he is in York?"
"I suppose so."
"Suppose! And yet you are to be his wife!" I exclaimed.
"Who told you that?" she asked quickly, halting and looking straight atme.
"Every one discusses it," I answered. "They say he is to be yourhusband very shortly.
In White Raiment Page 32
