CHAPTER XXVII
THE SPY
Wrayson found himself a few minutes later alone with the Baron, who, withsome solemnity, rose and took the chair opposite to him. Conversationbetween them, however, languished, for the Baron spoke only inmonosyllables, and his attitude gave Wrayson the idea that he viewed hispresence at the chateau with disfavour. With stiff punctiliousness, hebegged Wrayson to try some wonderful Burgundy, and passed a box ofcigarettes. He did not, however, open any topic of conversation, andWrayson, embarrassed in his choice of subjects by the fact that anyremark he could make might sound like an attempt at gratifying hiscuriosity, remained also silent. In a very few minutes the Baron rose.
"You will take another glass of wine, sir?" he asked.
Wrayson rose too with alacrity, and bowed his refusal. They recrossed thegreat hall and entered the drawing-room. Louise and Madame de Melbainwere talking earnestly together in a corner, and from the look that thelatter threw at him as they entered, Wrayson was convinced that in someway he was concerned with the subject of their conversation. It was alook deliberate and scrutinizing, in a sense doubtful, and yet notunkindly. Behind it all, Wrayson felt that there was something which hecould not understand, there was something of the mystery in those darksad eyes which seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere of the place andthe lives of these people.
Louise rose as he approached and motioned him to take her vacated place.
"Madame de Melbain would like to talk to you for a few moments," she saidquietly. "Afterwards will you come on to the terrace?"
She swept away through the open window, and was at once followed by theBaron. Mademoiselle de Courcelles was playing very softly on a grandpiano in an unseen corner of the apartment. Wrayson and his hostesswere alone.
She turned towards him with a faint smile. She spoke with greatdeliberation, but very clearly, and there was in her voice some hiddenquality, indefinable in words, yet both musical and singularlyattractive.
"I shall not keep you very long, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Louise has beentalking to me about you. She is happy, I think, to have found a friend sochivalrous and so discerning."
Wrayson smiled doubtfully as he answered.
"It is very little that I have been able to do for her," he said. "Mycomplaint is that she will not give me the opportunity of doing more."
"You are too modest," Madame de Melbain said slowly. "Louise has told mea good deal. I think that you have been a very faithful friend."
Wrayson bowed but said nothing. If Madame de Melbain had anything tosay to him, he preferred to afford her the opportunity of anattentive silence.
"Louise and I," Madame de Melbain continued, "were school friends. Soyou see that I have known her all my life. She has had her troubles, asI have! Only mine are a righteous judgment upon me, and hers she hasdone nothing to deserve. It is the burden of others which she fastensupon her back."
Wrayson felt instinctively that his continued silence was what she mostdesired. She was speaking to him, but her eyes had travelled far away. Itwas as though she had come into touch with other and greater things.
"Louise has not told me everything," she continued. "There is much thatshe will not confess. So it is necessary, Mr. Wrayson, that I ask you aquestion. Do you care for her?"
"I do!" Wrayson answered simply.
"You wish to marry her?"
"To-morrow, if she would!"
Madame de Melbain leaned a little forward. Her cheeks were still entirelycolourless, but some spark of emotion glittered in her full dark eyes.
"You will be alone with her presently. Try and persuade her to marry youat once. There is nothing but an absurd scruple between you! Rememberthat always."
"It is a scruple which up till now has been too strong for me," Wraysonremarked quietly.
She measured him with her eyes, as though making a deliberate estimate ofhis powers.
"A man," she said, "should be able to do much with the woman whom hecares for--the woman who cares for him."
"If I could believe that," he murmured.
She shrugged her shoulders slightly. He understood the gesture.
"You are right," he declared, with more confidence. "I will do my best."
She moved her head slowly, a sign of assent, also of dismissal. He roseto his feet.
"Louise is on the terrace," she said. "Will you give me your arm? TheBaron is there also. We will join them."
They stepped through the high French windows on to the carpeted terrace.It seemed to Wrayson that they had passed into a veritable land ofenchantment. The service of dinner had been a somewhat leisurely affair,and the hour was already late. The moon was slowly rising behind thetrees, but the landscape was at present wrapped in the soft doubtfulobscurity of a late twilight. The flowers, with whose perfume the air wasfaintly fragrant, remained unseen, or visible only in blurred outline;the tall trees, whose tops were unstirred by even the slightest breeze,stood out like silent sentinels against the violet sky. Madame de Melbainstopped short upon the threshold of the terrace, with head slightlythrown back, and half-closed eyes.
"Suzanne was right," she murmured, "there is peace here--peace, if onlyit would last!"
The Baron came hastily forward. He seemed to be eyeing Wrayson a littledoubtfully. Madame de Melbain pointed down the avenue.
"I think," she said, "that it would be pleasant to walk for a littleway. Give me your arm, Baron. We will go first. Mr. Wrayson will followwith Louise."
They descended the steps, crossed the lawn, and through a gate into thebroad grass-grown avenue, cut through the woods to the road. Wrayson atfirst was silent, and Louise seemed a little nervous. More than once shestarted at the sound of a rabbit scurrying through the undergrowth.There was something a little mysterious about the otherwise profoundsilence of the impenetrable woods. Even their footsteps fell noiselesslyupon the spongy turf.
Wrayson spoke at last. They had fallen sufficiently far behind the othersto be out of earshot.
"Do you know what Madame de Melbain has been saying to me?" he asked.
Louise turned her head a little. There was the faintest flicker of asmile about her lips.
"I cannot imagine," she declared, looking once more straight ahead.
"She has been inciting me to bold deeds," Wrayson said. "How should youlike to be carried off in mediaeval fashion--married, willing orunwilling?"
"Is that what Madame de Melbain has been recommending you to do?"she asked.
He nodded.
"Yes! And I am thinking of taking her advice," he said coolly.
She laughed quietly, yet his ears were quick, and he caught the note ofsadness which a moment later crept into her eyes.
"It would solve so much that is troublesome, wouldn't it?" she remarked."May I ask if that has been the sole topic of your conversation?"
"Absolutely! Louise! Dear!"
She turned a little towards him. His voice was compelling. The fingers ofher hand closed readily enough upon his, and the soft touch thrilled him.
"You have some fancy in your brain," he said, in a low, passionatewhisper. "It is nothing but a fancy, I am assured. You have heard whatyour own friend has advised. You don't doubt that I love you, Louise,that I want to make you happy."
She leaned a little towards him. A sudden wave of abandonment seemed tohave swept over her. He drew her face to his and kissed her with a suddenpassion. Her lips met his soft and unresisting. Already he felt the songof triumph in his heart. She was his! She could never be anybody else'snow. Very softly she disengaged herself. The other two were still insight, and already the curve of the moon was creeping over the trees.
"Don't spoil it," she murmured. "Don't talk of to-morrow, or the future!We have to-night."...
There followed minutes of which he took no count, and then of a suddenher hand clutched his arm.
"Listen," she whispered hoarsely.
He came suddenly down to earth. They were walking in the shadow of thetrees, close to the side of the w
ood, and their footsteps upon the softturf were noiseless. Wrayson almost held his breath as he leaned towardsthe dark chaos of the thickly planted trees. Only a few yards away hecould distinctly hear the dry snapping of twigs. Some one was keepingpace with them inside the wood, now he could see the stooping figure ofa man creeping stealthily along. A little exclamation broke fromLouise's lips.
"It is a spy after all," she muttered. "They said that every entrance tothe place was guarded."
Wrayson had time to take only one quick step towards the wood, when ashrill cry rang out upon the still night. Then there was the tramplingunder foot of bushes and undergrowth, the sound of men's voices, oneEnglish and threatening, the other guttural and terrified. Madame deMelbain and her escort had paused and were looking back. Louise wasmoving towards them, and Wrayson was on the point of entering the wood.Into the little semicircle formed by these four people there suddenlystrode Wrayson's friend from the inn, grasping by the collar a shrinkingand protesting figure in a much dishevelled tweed suit.
"We were right, Mr. Wrayson," the former remarked quietly. "This fellowhas been spying round all day. You had better ask your friends what theywish done with him."
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