The Angel of Terror

by Edgar Wallace

  Chapter XX

  "Have you solved the mystery of the submerged bed?" smiled Jean.

  Lydia laughed.

  "I'm not probing too deeply into the matter," she said. "Poor Mrs.Cole-Mortimer was terribly upset."

  "She would be," said Jean. "It was her own eiderdown!"

  This was the first hint Lydia had received that the house was rentedfurnished.

  They drove into Nice that morning, and Lydia, remembering Jack Glover'sremarks, looked closely at the chauffeur, and was startled to see aresemblance between him and the man who had driven the taxicab on thenight she had been carried off from the theatre. It is true that thetaxi-driver had a moustache and that this man was clean-shaven, andmoreover, had tiny side whiskers, but there was a resemblance.

  "Have you had your driver long?" she asked as they were running throughMonte Carlo, along the sea road.

  "Mordon? Yes, we have had him six or seven years," said Jeancarelessly. "He drives us when we are on the continent, you know. Hespeaks French perfectly and is an excellent driver. Father has tried topersuade him to come to England, but he hates London--he was telling methe other day that he hadn't been there for ten years."

  That disposed of the resemblance, thought Lydia, and yet--she couldremember his voice, she thought, and when they alighted on the Promenadedes Anglaise she spoke to him. He replied in French, and it isimpossible to detect points of resemblance in a voice that speaks onelanguage and the same voice when it speaks another.

  The promenade was crowded with saunterers. A band was playing by thejetty and although the wind was colder than it had been at Cap Martinthe sun was warm enough to necessitate the opening of a parasol.

  It was a race week, and the two girls lunched at the Negrito. They werein the midst of their meal when a man came toward them and Lydiarecognised Mr. Marcus Stepney. This dark, suave man was no favourite ofhers, though why she could not have explained. His manners were alwaysperfect and, towards her, deferential.

  As usual, he was dressed with the precision of a fashion-plate. Mr.Marcus Stepney was a man, a considerable portion of whose time wastaken up every morning by the choice of cravats and socks and shirts.Though Lydia did not know this, his smartness, plus a certain dexteritywith cards, was his stock in trade. No breath of scandal had touchedhim, he moved in a good set and was always at the right place at theproper season.

  When Aix was full he was certain to be found at the Palace, in theDeauville week you would find him at the Casino punting mildly at thebaccarat table. And after the rooms were closed, and even the SportsClub at Monte Carlo had shut its doors, there was always a little gameto be had in the hotels and in Marcus Stepney's private sitting-room.

  And it cannot be denied that Mr. Stepney was lucky. He won sufficient atthese out-of-hour games to support him nobly through the trials andvicissitudes which the public tables inflict upon their votaries.

  "Going to the races," he said, "how very fortunate! Will you come alongwith me? I can give you three good winners."

  "I have no money to gamble," said Jean, "I am a poor woman. Lydia, whois rolling in wealth, can afford to take your tips, Marcus."

  Marcus looked at Lydia with a speculative eye.

  "If you haven't any money with you, don't worry. I have plenty and youcan pay me afterwards. I could make you a million francs to-day."

  "Thank you," said Jean coolly, "but Mrs. Meredith does not bet soheavily."

  Her tone was a clear intimation to the man of wits that he was impingingupon somebody else's preserves and he grinned amiably.

  Nevertheless, it was a profitable afternoon for Lydia. She came back toCap Martin twenty thousand francs richer than she had been when shestarted off.

  "Lydia's had a lot of luck she tells me," said Mr. Briggerland.

  "Yes. She won about five hundred pounds," said his daughter. "Marcus waslaying ground bait. She did not know what horses he had backed untilafter the race was run, when he invariably appeared with a few _mille_notes and Lydia's pleasure was pathetic. Of course she didn't winanything. The twenty thousand francs was a sprat--he's coming to-nightto see how the whales are blowing!"

  Mr. Marcus Stepney arrived punctually, and, to Mr. Briggerland'sdisgust, was dressed for dinner, a fact which necessitated the olderman's hurried retreat and reappearance in conventional evening wear.

  Marcus Stepney's behaviour at dinner was faultless. He devoted himselfin the main to Mrs. Cole-Mortimer and Jean, who apparently never lookedat him and yet observed his every movement, knew that he was merelywaiting his opportunity.

  It came when the dinner was over and the party adjourned to the bigstoep facing the sea. The night was chilly and Mr. Stepney found wrapsand furs for the ladies, and so manoeuvred the arrangement of the chairsthat Lydia and he were detached from the remainder of the party, not byany great distance, but sufficient, as the experienced Marcus knew, toremove a murmured conversation from the sharpest eavesdropper.

  Jean, who was carrying on a three-cornered conversation with her fatherand Mrs. Cole-Mortimer, did not stir, until she saw, by the light of ashaded lamp in the roof, the dark head of Mr. Marcus Stepney droop moreconfidently towards his companion. Then she rose and strolled across.

  Marcus did not curse her because he did not express his inmost thoughtsaloud.

  He gave her his chair and pulled another forward.

  "Does Miss Briggerland know?" asked Lydia.

  "No," said Mr. Stepney pleasantly.

  "May I tell her?"

  "Of course."

  "Mr. Stepney has been telling me about a wonderful racing coup to bemade to-morrow. Isn't it rather thrilling, Jean? He says it will bequite possible for me to make five million francs without any risk atall."

  "Except the risk of a million, I suppose," smiled Jean. "Well, are yougoing to do it?" Lydia shook her head.

  "I haven't a million francs in France, for one thing," she said, "and Iwouldn't risk it if I had."

  And Jean smiled again at the discomfiture which Mr. Marcus Stepneystrove manfully to hide.

  Later she took his arm and led him into the garden.

  "Marcus," she said when they were out of range of the house, "I thinkyou are several kinds of a fool."

  "Why?" asked the other, who was not in the best humour.

  "It was so crude," she said scornfully, "so cheap andconfidence-trickish. A miserable million francs--twenty thousand pounds.Apart from the fact that your name would be mud in London if it wereknown that you had robbed a girl----"

  "There's no question of robbery," he said hotly, "I tell you Valdau is acertainty for the Prix."

  "It would not be a certainty if her money were on," said Jean dryly. "Itwould finish an artistic second and you would be full of apologies, andpoor Lydia would be a million francs to the bad. No, Marcus, that ischeap."

  "I'm nearly broke," he said shortly.

  He made no disguise of his profession, nor of his nefarious plan.

  Between the two there was a queer kind of camaraderie. Though he may nothave been privy to the more tremendous of her crimes, yet he seemed toaccept her as one of those who lived on the frontiers of illegality.

  "I was thinking about you, as you sat there telling her the story," saidJean thoughtfully. "Marcus, why don't you marry her?"

  He stopped in his stride and looked down at the girl.

  "Marry her, Jean; are you mad? She wouldn't marry me."

  "Why not?" she asked. "Of course she'd marry you, you silly fool, if youwent the right way about it."

  He was silent.

  "She is worth six hundred thousand pounds, and I happen to know that shehas nearly two hundred thousand pounds in cash on deposit at the bank,"said Jean.

  "Why do you want me to marry her?" he asked significantly. "Is there arake-off for you?"

  "A big rake-off," she said. "The two hundred thousand on deposit shouldbe easily get-at-able, Marcus, and she'd even give you more----"

  "Why?" he asked.

  "To agree to a separa
tion," she said coolly. "I know you. No woman couldlive very long with you and preserve her reason."

  He chuckled.

  "And I'm to hand it all over to you?"

  "Oh no," she corrected. "I'm not greedy. It is my experience that thegreedy people get into bad trouble. The man or woman who 'wants it all'usually gets the dressing-case the 'all' was kept in. No, I'd like totake a half."

  He sat down on a garden seat and she followed his example.

  "What is there to be?" he asked. "An agreement between you and me?Something signed and sealed and delivered, eh?"

  Her sad eyes caught his and held them.

  "I trust you, Marcus," she said softly. "If I help you in this--and Iwill if you will do all that I tell you to do--I will trust you to giveme my share."

  Mr. Marcus Stepney fingered his collar a little importantly.

  "I've never let a pal down in my life," he said with a cough. "I'm asstraight as they make 'em, to people who play the game with me."

  "And you are wise, so far as I am concerned," said the gentle Jean. "Forif you double-crossed me, I should hand the police the name and addressof your other wife who is still living."

  His jaw dropped.

  "Wha--what?" he stammered.

  "Let us join the ladies," mocked Jean, as she rose and put her arm inhis.

  It pleased her immensely to feel this big man trembling.