Chapter XXI
It seemed to Lydia that she had been abroad for years, though in realityshe had been three days in Cap Martin, when Mr. Marcus Stepney became aregular caller.
Even the most objectionable people improve on acquaintance, and give thelie to first impressions.
Mr. Stepney never bored her. He had an inexhaustible store of anecdotesand reminiscences, none of which was in the slightest degree offensive.He was something of a sportsman, too, and he called by arrangement thenext morning, after his introduction to the Cap Martin household, andconducting her to a sheltered cove, containing two bathing huts, heintroduced her to the exhilarating Mediterranean.
Sea bathing is not permitted in Monte Carlo until May, and the water wasmuch colder than Lydia had expected. They swam out to a floatingplatform when Mr. Briggerland and Jean put in an appearance. Jean hadcome straight from the house in her bathing-gown, over which she wore alight wrap. Lydia watched her with amazement, for the girl was anexpert swimmer. She could dive from almost any height and could remainunder water an alarming time.
"I never thought you had so much energy and strength in your littlebody," said Lydia, as Jean, with a shriek of enjoyment, drew herself onthe raft and wiped the water from her eyes.
"There's a man up there looking at us through glasses," said Briggerlandsuddenly. "I saw the flash of the sun on them."
He pointed to the rising ground beyond the seashore, but they could seenothing.
Presently there was a glitter of light amongst the green, and Lydiapointed.
"I thought that sort of thing was never done except in comicnewspapers," she said, but Jean did not smile. Her eyes were focused onthe point where the unseen observer lay or sat, and she shaded her eyes.
"Some visitor from Monte Carlo, I expect. People at Cap Martin are muchtoo respectable to do anything so vulgar."
Mr. Briggerland, at a glance from his daughter, slipped into the water,and with strong heavy strokes, made his way to the shore.
"Father is going to investigate," said Jean, "and the water really isthe warmest place," and with that she fell sideways into the blue sealike a seal, dived down into its depths, and presently Lydia saw herwalking along the white floor of the ocean, her little hands keeping upan almost imperceptible motion. Presently she shot up again, shook herhead and looked round, only to dive again.
In the meantime, though Lydia, who was fascinated by the manoeuvre ofthe girl, did not notice the fact, Mr. Briggerland had reached theshore, pulled on a pair of rubber shoes, and with his mackintoshbuttoned over his bathing dress, had begun to climb through theunderbrush towards the spot where the glasses had glistened. When Lydialooked up he had disappeared.
"Where is your father?" she asked the girl.
"He went into the bushes." Mr. Stepney volunteered the information. "Isuppose he's looking for the Paul Pry."
Mr. Stepney had been unusually glum and silent, for he was piqued by thetactless appearance of the Briggerlands.
"Come into the water, Marcus," said Jean peremptorily, as she put herfoot against the edge of the raft, and pushed herself backward, "I wantto see Mrs. Meredith dive."
"Me?" said Lydia in surprise. "Good heavens, no! After watching you Idon't intend making an exhibition of myself."
"I want to show you the proper way to dive," said Jean. "Stand up on theedge of the raft."
Lydia obeyed.
"Straight up," said Jean. "Now put both your arms out wide. Now----"
There was a sharp crack from the shore; something whistled past Lydia'shead, struck an upright post, splintering the edge, and with a whinewent ricochetting into the sea.
Lydia's face went white.
"What--what was that?" she gasped. She had hardly spoken before therewas another shot. This time the bullet must have gone very high, andimmediately afterwards came a yell of pain from the shore.
Jean did not wait. She struck out for the beach, swimming furiously. Itwas not the shot, but the cry which had alarmed her, and without waitingto put on coat or sandals, she ran up the little road where her fatherhad gone, following the path through the undergrowth. Presently she cameto a grassy plot, in the centre of which two tall pines grew side byside, and lying against one of the trees was the huddled figure ofBriggerland. She turned him over. He was breathing heavily and wasunconscious. An ugly wound gaped at the back of his head, and hismackintosh and bathing dress were smothered with blood.
She looked round quickly for his assailant, but there was nobody insight, and nothing to indicate the presence of a third person but twoshining brass cartridges which lay on the grass.
The Angel of Terror Page 21
