XI
A GOLDEN LADY ENTERS--THE EYES AGAIN
The music of voice and piano was very loud just then, so that thelittle, soft, whirring sound of the electric bell reached only one ortwo pairs of ears in the big room. It did not reach the host certainly,and neither he nor most of the others observed the servant make his wayamong the groups of seated or standing people and go to the outer door,which opened upon a tiny hallway. The song came to an end, and everybodywas cheering and applauding and crying "Bravo!" or "Bis!" or one of theother things that people shout at such times, when, as if in unexpectedanswer to the outburst, a lady appeared between the yellow portieres andcame forward a little way into the room. She was a tall lady of anextraordinary and immediately noticeable grace of movement--a lady withrather fair hair; but her eyebrows and eyelashes had been stained darkerthan it was their nature to be. She had the classic Greek type offace--and figure, too--all but the eyes, which were long andnarrow--narrow, perhaps, from a habit of going half closed; and whenthey were a little more than half closed they made a straight black linethat turned up very slightly at the outer end with an Oriental effectwhich went oddly in that classic face. There is a popular piece ofsculpture now in the Luxembourg Gallery for which this lady "sat" asmodel to a great artist. Sculptors from all over the world go there todream over its perfect line and contour, and little schoolgirls pretendnot to see it, and middle-aged maiden tourists, with red Baedekers intheir hands, regard it furtively and pass on, and after a while comeback to look again.
The lady was dressed in some very close-clinging material which was notcloth of gold, but something very like it, only much duller--somethingwhich gleamed when she stirred, but did not glitter--and over hersplendid shoulders was hung an Oriental scarf heavily worked withmetallic gold. She made an amazing and dramatic picture in that goldenroom. It was as if she had known just what her surroundings would be andhad dressed expressly for them.
The applause ceased as suddenly as if it had been trained to break offat a signal, and the lady came forward a little way, smiling a quiet,assured smile. At each step her knee threw out the golden stuff of hergown an inch or two, and it flashed suddenly--a dull, subdued flash inthe overhead light--and died and flashed again. A few of the people inthe room knew who the lady was, and they looked at one another withraised eyebrows and startled faces; but the others stared at her with aneager admiration, thinking that they had seldom seen anything sobeautiful or so effective. Ste. Marie sat forward on the edge of hischair. His eyes sparkled, and he gave a little quick sigh of pleasurableexcitement. This was drama, and very good drama, too, and he suspectedthat it might at any moment turn into a tragedy.
He saw Captain Stewart, who had been among a group of people half-wayacross the room, turn his head to look when the cries and the applauseceased so suddenly, and he saw the man's face stiffen by swift degrees,all the joyous, buoyant life gone out of it, until it was yellow andrigid like a dead man's face; and Ste. Marie, out of his knowledge ofthe relations between these two people, nodded, en connaisseur, for heknew that the man was very badly frightened.
So the host of the evening hung back, staring for what must have seemedto him a long and terrible time, though in reality it was but aninstant; then he came forward quickly to greet the new-comer, and if hisface was still yellow-white there was nothing in his manner but thecourtesy habitual with him. He took the lady's hand, and she smiled athim, but her eyes did not smile--they were hard. Ste. Marie, who was thenearest of the others, heard Captain Stewart say:
"This is an unexpected pleasure, my dearest Olga!"
And to that the lady replied, more loudly: "Yes, I returned to Parisonly to-day. You didn't know, of course. I heard you were entertainingthis evening, and so I came, knowing that I should be welcome."
"Always!" said Captain Stewart--"always more than welcome!"
He nodded to one or two of the men who stood near, and when theyapproached presented them. Ste. Marie observed that he used the lady'strue name--she had, at times, found occasion to employ others--and thathe politely called her "Madame Nilssen" instead of "Mademoiselle." Butat that moment the lady caught sight of Ste. Marie, and, crying out hisname in a tone of delighted astonishment, turned away from the othermen, brushing past them as if they had been furniture, and advancedholding out both her hands in greeting.
"Dear Ste. Marie!" she exclaimed. "Fancy finding you here! I'm so glad!Oh, I'm so very glad! Take me away from these people! Find a cornerwhere we can talk. Ah, there is one with a big seat! Allons-y!"
She addressed him for the most part in English, which she spokeperfectly--as perfectly as she spoke French and German and, presumably,her native tongue, which must have been Swedish.
They went to the broad, low seat, a sort of hard-cushioned bench, whichstood against one of the walls, and made themselves comfortable there bythe only possible means, which, owing to the width of the thing, was tosit far back with their feet stuck straight out before them. CaptainStewart had followed them across the room and showed a strong tendencyto remain. Ste. Marie observed that his eyes were hard and bright andvery alert, and that there were two bright spots of color in his yellowcheeks. It occurred to Ste. Marie that the man was afraid to leave himalone with Olga Nilssen, and he smiled to himself, reflecting that thelady, even if indiscreetly inclined, could tell him nothing--save indetails--that he did not already know. But after a few rather awkwardmoments Mile. Nilssen waved an irritated hand.
"Go away!" she said to her host. "Go away to your other guests! I wantto talk to Ste. Marie. We have old times to talk over."
And after hesitating awhile uneasily, Captain Stewart turned back intothe room; but for some time thereafter Ste. Marie was aware that avigilant eye was being kept upon them and that their host was by nomeans at his ease.
When they were left alone together the girl turned to him and patted hisarm affectionately. She said:
"Ah, but it is very good to see you again, mon cher ami! It has been solong!" She gave an abrupt frown. "What are you doing here?" shedemanded.
And she said an unkind thing about her fellow-guests. She called them"canaille." She said:
"Why are you wasting your time among these canaille? This is not a placefor you. Why did you come?"
"I don't know," said Ste. Marie. He was still a little resentful, and hesaid so. He said: "I didn't know it was going to be like this. I camebecause Stewart went rather out of his way to ask me. I'd known him in avery different milieu."
"Ah, yes!" she said, reflectively. "Yes, he does go into the world also,doesn't he? But this is what he likes, you know." Her lips drew back foran instant, and she said: "He is a pig-dog!"
Ste. Marie looked at her gravely. She had used that offensive name witha little too much fierceness. Her face had turned for an instant quitewhite, and her eyes had flashed out over the room a look that meant agreat deal to any one who knew her as well as Ste. Marie did. He satforward and lowered his voice. He said:
"Look here, Olga! I'm going to be very frank for a moment. May I?"
For just an instant the girl drew away from him with suspicion in hereyes, and something else, alertly defiant. Then she put out her hands tohis arm.
"You may be what you like, dear Ste. Marie," she said, "and say what youlike. I will take it all--and swallow it alive--good as gold. What areyou going to do to me?"
"I've always been fair with you, haven't I?" he urged. "I've haddisagreeable things to say or do, but--you knew always that I liked youand--where my sympathies were."
"Always! Always, mon cher!" she cried. "I trusted you always ineverything. And there is no one else I trust. No one! No one!--Ste.Marie!"
"What then?" he asked.
"Ste. Marie," she said, "why did you never fall in love with me, as theother men did?"
"I wonder!" said he. "I don't know. Upon my word, I really don't know."
He was so serious about it that the girl burst into a shriek oflaughter. And in the end he laughed, too.
"
I expect it was because I liked you too well," he said, at last. "Butcome! We're forgetting my lecture. Listen to your grandpere Ste. Marie!I have heard--certain things--rumors--what you will. Perhaps they arefoolish lies, and I hope they are. But if not, if the fear I saw inStewart's face when you came here to-night, was--not without cause, letme beg you to have a care. You're much too savage, my dear child. Don'tbe so foolish as to--well, turn comedy into the other thing. In thefirst place, it's not worth while, and, in the second place, it recoilsalways. Revenge may be sweet. I don't know. But nowadays, with policecourts and all that, it entails much more subsequent annoyance than itis worth. Be wise, Olga!"
"Some things, Ste. Marie," said the golden lady, "are worth all theconsequences that may follow them."
She watched Captain Stewart across the room, where he stood chattingwith a little group of people, and her beautiful face was as hard asmarble and her eyes were as dark as a stormy night, and her mouth, foran instant, was almost like an animal's mouth--cruel and relentless.
Ste. Marie saw, and he began to be a bit alarmed in good earnest. In hiswarning he had spoken rather more seriously than he felt the occasiondemanded, but he began at last to wonder if the occasion was not inreality very serious, indeed. He was sure, of course, that Olga Nilssenhad come here on this evening to annoy Captain Stewart in some fashion.As he put it to himself, she probably meant to "make a row," and hewould not have been in the least surprised if she had made it in thebeginning, upon her very dramatic entrance. Nothing more calamitous thanthat had occurred to him. But when he saw the woman's face turned alittle away and gazing fixedly at Captain Stewart, he began to be awarethat there was tragedy very near him--or all the makings of it.
Mlle. Nilssen turned back to him. Her face was still hard, and her eyesdark and narrowed with their oddly Oriental look. She bent her shoulderstogether for an instant and her hands moved slowly in her lap,stretching out before her in a gesture very like a cat's when it wakesfrom sleep and yawns and extends its claws, as if to make sure that theyare still there and ready for use.
"I feel a little like Samson to-night," she said. "I am tired of almosteverything, and I should like very much to pull the world down on top ofme and kill everybody in it--except you, Ste. Marie, dear; exceptyou!--and be crushed under the ruins!"
"I think," said Ste. Marie, practically--and the speech sounded ratherlike one of Hartley's speeches--"I think it was not quite the world thatSamson pulled down, but a temple--or a palace--something of that kind."
"Well," said the golden lady, "this place is rather like a temple--aChinese temple, with the pig-dog for high-priest."
Ste. Marie frowned at her.
"What are you going to do?" he demanded, sharply. "What did you comehere to do? Mischief of some kind--bien entendu--but what?"
"Do?" she said, looking at him with her narrowed eyes. "I? Why, whatshould I do? Nothing, of course! I merely said I should like to pull theplace down. Of course, I couldn't do that quite literally, now, could I?No. It is merely a mood. I'm not going to do anything."
"You're not being honest with me," he said.
And at that her expression changed, and she patted his arm again with agesture that seemed to beg forgiveness.
"Well, then," she said, "if you must know, maybe I did come here for apurpose. I want to have it out with our friend Captain Stewart aboutsomething. And Ste. Marie, dear," she pleaded, "please, I think you'dbetter go home first. I don't care about these other animals, but Idon't want you dragged into any row of any sort. Please be a sweet Ste.Marie and go home. Yes?"
"Absolutely, no!" said Ste. Marie. "I shall stay, and I shall try myutmost to prevent you from doing anything foolish. Understand that! Ifyou want to have rows with people, Olga, for Heaven's sake don't pick anoccasion like this for the purpose. Have your rows in private!"
"I rather think I enjoy an audience," she said, with a reflective air,and Ste. Marie laughed aloud because he knew that the naive speech wasso very true. This lady, with her many good qualities and her badones--not a few, alas!--had an undeniable passion for red fire that hadamused him very much on more than one past occasion.
"Please go home!" she said once more.
But when the man only shook his head, she raised her hands a little wayand dropped them again in her lap, in an odd gesture which seemed to saythat she had done all she could do, and that if anything disagreeableshould happen now, and he should be involved in it, it would be entirelyhis fault because she had warned him.
Then quite abruptly a mood of irresponsible gayety seemed to come uponher. She refused to have anything more to do with serious topics, andwhen Ste. Marie attempted to introduce them she laughed in his face. Asshe had said in the beginning she wished to do, she harked back to olddays (the earlier stages of what might be termed the Morrison regime),and it seemed to afford her great delight to recall the happenings ofthat epoch. The conversation became a dialogue of reminiscence whichwould have been entirely unintelligible to a third person, and was,indeed, so to Captain Stewart, who once came across the room, made afeeble effort to attach himself, and presently wandered away again.
They unearthed from the past an exceedingly foolish song all about one"Little Willie" and a purple monkey climbing up a yellow stick. It wasset to a well-known air from _Don Giovanni_, and when Duval, the basso,heard them singing it he came up and insisted upon knowing what it wasabout. He laughed immoderately over the English words when he was toldwhat they meant, and made Ste. Marie write them down for him on twovisiting-cards. So they made a trio out of "Little Willie," the greatDuval inventing a bass part quite marvellous in its ingenuity, and theywere compelled to sing it over and over again, until Ste. Marie'sfalsetto imitation of a tenor voice cracked and gave out altogether,since he was by nature barytone, if anything at all.
The other guests had crowded round to hear the extraordinary song, andwhen the song was at last finished several of them remained, so thatSte. Marie saw he was to be allowed an uninterrupted tete-a-tete withOlga Nilssen no longer. He therefore drifted away, after a few moments,and went with Duval and one of the other men across the room to look atsome small jade objects--snuff-bottles, bracelets, buckles, and thelike--which were displayed in a cabinet cleverly reconstructed out of aJapanese shrine. It was perhaps ten minutes later when he looked roundthe place and discovered that neither Mlle. Nilssen nor Captain Stewartwas to be seen.
His first thought was of relief, for he said to himself that the two hadsensibly gone into one of the other rooms to "have it out" in peace andquiet. But following that came the recollection of the woman's face whenshe had watched her host across the room. Her words came back to him: "Ifeel a little like Samson to-night.... I should like very much to pullthe world down on top of me and kill everybody in it!" Ste. Mariethought of these things, and he began to be uncomfortable. He foundhimself watching the yellow-hung doorway beyond, with its intricateChinese carving of trees and rocks and little groups of immortals, andhe found that unconsciously he was listening for something--he did notknow what--above the chatter and laughter of the people in the room. Heendured this for possibly five minutes, and all at once found that hecould endure it no longer. He began to make his way quietly through thegroups of people toward the curtained doorway.
As he went, one of the women near by complained in a loud tone that theservant had disappeared. She wanted, it seemed, a glass of water, havingalready had many glasses of more interesting things. Ste. Marie said hewould get it for her, and went on his way. He had an excuse now.
He found himself in a square, dimly lighted room much smaller than theother. There was a round table in the centre, so he thought it must beStewart's dining-room. At the left a doorway opened into a place wherethere were lights, and at the other side was another door closed. Fromthe room at the left there came a sound of voices, and though they werenot loud, one of them, Mlle. Olga Nilssen's voice, was hard and angryand not altogether under control. The man would seem to have beenattempting to pacify her, and he wou
ld seem not to have been verysuccessful.
The first words that Ste. Marie was able to distinguish were from thewoman. She said, in a low, fierce tone:
"That is a lie, my friend! That is a lie! I know all about the road toClamart, so you needn't lie to me any longer. It's no good."
She paused for just an instant there, and in the pause St. Marie heardStewart give a sort of inarticulate exclamation. It seemed to expressanger and it seemed also to express fear. But the woman swept on, andher voice began to be louder. She said:
"I've given you your chance. You didn't deserve it, but I've given ityou--and you've told me nothing but lies. Well, you'll lie no more. Thisends it."
Upon that Ste. Marie heard a sudden stumbling shuffle of feet and a low,hoarse cry of utter terror--a cry more animal-like than human. He heardthe cry break off abruptly in something that was like a cough and awhine together, and he heard the sound of a heavy body falling with aloose rattle upon the floor.
With the sound of that falling body he had already reached the doorwayand torn aside the heavy portiere. It was a sleeping-room he lookedinto, a room of medium size with two windows and an ornate bed of theEmpire style set sidewise against the farther wall. There were electriclights upon imitation candles which were grouped in sconces against thewall, and these were turned on, so that the room was brightlyilluminated. Midway between the door and the ornate Empire bed CaptainStewart lay huddled and writhing upon the floor, and Olga Nilssen stoodupright beside him, gazing down upon him quite calmly. In her righthand, which hung at her side, she held a little flat black automaticpistol of the type known as Brownings--and they look like toys, but theyare not.
Ste. Marie sprang at her silently and caught her by the arm, twistingthe automatic pistol from her grasp, and the woman made no effortwhatever to resist him. She looked into his face quite frankly andunmoved, and she shook her head.
"I haven't harmed him," she said. "I was going to, yes--and thenmyself--but he didn't give me a chance. He fell down in a fit." Shenodded down toward the man who lay writhing at their feet. "I frightenedhim," she said, "and he fell in a fit. He's an epileptic, you know.Didn't you know that? Oh yes."
Abruptly she turned away shivering, and put up her hands over her face.And she gave an exclamation of uncontrollable repulsion.
"Ugh!" she cried, "it's horrible! Horrible! I can't bear to look. I sawhim in a fit once before--long ago--and I couldn't bear even to speak tohim for a month. I thought he had been cured. He said--Ah, it'shorrible!"
Ste. Marie had dropped upon his knees beside the fallen man, and Mlle.Nilssen said, over her shoulder:
"Hold his head up from the floor, if you can bear to. He might hurt it."
It was not an easy thing to do, for Ste. Marie had the natural sense ofrepulsion in such matters that most people have, and this man'sappearance, as Olga Nilssen had said, was horrible. The face was drawnhideously, and in the strong, clear light of the electrics it was adeathly yellow. The eyes were half closed, and the eyeballs turned up sothat only the whites of them showed between the lids. There was frothupon the distorted mouth, and it clung to the catlike mustache and tothe shallow, sunken chin beneath. But Ste. Marie exerted all his willpower, and took the jerking, trembling head in his hands, holding itclear of the floor.
"You'd better call the servant," he said. "There may be something thatcan be done."
But the woman answered, without looking:
"No, there's nothing that can be done, I believe, except to keep himfrom bruising himself. Stimulants--that sort of thing--do more harm thangood. Could you get him on the bed here?"
"Together we might manage it," said Ste. Marie. "Come and help!"
"I can't!" she cried, nervously. "I can't--touch him. Please, I can't doit."
"Come!" said the man, in a sharp tone. "It's no time for nerves. I don'tlike it, either, but it's got to be done."
The woman began a half-hysterical sobbing, but after a moment she turnedand came with slow feet to where Stewart lay.
Ste. Marie slipped his arms under the man's body and began to raise himfrom the floor.
"You needn't help, after all," he said. "He's not heavy."
And, indeed, under his skilfully shaped and padded clothes the man was amere waif of a man--as unbelievably slight as if he were the victim of awasting disease. Ste. Marie held the body in his arms as if it had beena child, and carried it across and laid it on the bed; but it was manymonths before he forgot the horror of that awful thing shaking andtwitching in his hold, the head thumping hideously upon his shoulder,the arms and legs beating against him. It was the most difficult task hehad ever had to perform. He laid Captain Stewart upon the bed andstraightened the helpless limbs as best he could.
"I suppose," he said, rising again--"I suppose when the man comes out ofthis he'll be frightfully exhausted and drop off to sleep, won't he?We'll have to--"
He halted abruptly there, and for a single swift instant he felt theblack and rushing sensation of one who is going to faint away. The wallbehind the ornate Empire bed was covered with photographs, some inframes, others left, as they had been received, upon the large squaresof weird cardboard which are termed "art mounts."
"Come here a moment, quickly!" said Ste. Marie, in a sharp voice.
Mlle. Nilssen's sobs had died down to a silent, spasmodic catching ofthe breath, but she was still much unnerved, and she approached the bedwith obvious unwillingness, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.Ste. Marie pointed to an unframed photograph which was fastened to thewall by thumb-tacks, and his outstretched hand shook as he pointed.Beneath them the other man still writhed and tumbled in his epilepticfit.
"Do you know who that woman is?" demanded Ste. Marie, and his tone wassuch that Olga Nilssen turned slowly and stared at him.
"That woman," said she, "is the reason why I wished to pull the worlddown upon Charlie Stewart and me to-night. That's who she is."
Ste. Marie gave a sort of cry.
"Who is she?" he insisted. "What is her name? I--have a particularlyimportant reason for wanting to know. I've got to know."
Mlle. Nilssen shook her head, still staring at him.
"I can't tell you that," said she. "I don't know the name. I only knowthat--when he met her, he--I don't know her name, but I know where shelives and where he goes every day to see her--a house with a big gardenand walled park on the road to Clamart. It's on the edge of the wood,not far from Fort d'Issy. The Clamart-Vanves-Issy tram runs past thewall of one side of the park. That's all I know."
Ste. Marie clasped his head with his hands.
"So near to it!" he groaned, "and yet--Ah!" He bent forward suddenlyover the bed and spelled out the name of the photographer which waspencilled upon the brown cardboard mount. "There's still a chance," hesaid, "There's still one chance."
He became aware that the woman was watching him curiously, and nodded toher.
"It's something you don't know about," he explained. "I've got to findout who this--girl is. Perhaps the photographer can help me. I used toknow him." All at once his eyes sharpened. "Tell me the simple truthabout something!" said he. "If ever we have been friends, if you owe meany good office, tell me this: Do you know anything about young ArthurBenham's disappearance two months ago, or about what has become of him?"
Again the woman shook her head.
"No," said she. "Nothing at all. I hadn't even heard of it. Young ArthurBenham! I've met him once or twice. I wonder--I wonder Stewart neverspoke to me about his disappearance! That's very odd."
"Yes," said Ste. Marie, absently, "it is." He gave a little sigh. "Iwonder about a good many things," said he.
He glanced down upon the bed before them, and Captain Stewart lay still,save for a slight twitching of the hands. Once he moved his headrestlessly from side to side and said something incoherent in a weakmurmur.
"He's out of it," said Olga Nilssen. "He'll sleep now, I think. Isuppose we must get rid of those people and then leave him to the careof his man. A doctor co
uldn't do anything for him."
"Yes," said Ste. Marie, nodding, "I'll call the servant and tell thepeople that Stewart has been taken ill."
He looked once more toward the photograph on the wall, and under hisbreath he said, with an odd, defiant fierceness: "I won't believe it!"But he did not explain what he wouldn't believe. He started out of theroom, but, half-way, halted and turned back. He looked Olga Nilssen fullin the eyes, saying:
"It is safe to leave you here with him while I call the servant?There'll be no more--?"
But the woman gave a low cry and a violent shiver with it.
"You need have no fear," she said. "I've no desire now to--harm him.The--reason is gone. This has cured me. I feel as if I could never bearto see him again. Oh, hurry! Please hurry! I want to get away fromhere!"
Ste. Marie nodded, and went out of the room.
* * * * *
Jason: A Romance Page 11
