The Avenger

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXXI

  RETURNED FROM THE TOMB

  The intervention which a few seconds later abruptly terminated anemotional crisis was in itself a very commonplace one. Monsieur theproprietor deemed the moment advisable for solving a question which wasbeginning to distract his better half in the kitchen. He advanced towardsthem, all smiles and bows and gestures.

  "Monsieur would pardon his inquiring--would Monsieur and the ladies betaking _dejeuner?_ A fowl of excellence unusual was then beingroasted, the salad--Monsieur could see it growing! And Madame hadthought of an omelet! There was no cooler place in all France on a dayof heat so extraordinary as the table under the trees yonder. And asfor strawberries--well, Monsieur could see them grow for himself! orif it was _fraises de Bois_ that Madame preferred, the children hadbrought in baskets full only that morning, fresh and juicy, and of awonderful size."

  Wrayson interrupted him at last.

  "Let luncheon be served as you suggest," he directed. "In the meantime--"

  Monsieur Jules understood and withdrew with more bows and smiles. Thesignificance of his brief appearance upon the lawn was a thing of whichhe had not the least idea. Yet after his departure, the strain to acertain extent had passed away. Only Madame de Melbain's eyes seemedscarcely to leave the face of the man who stood still by her chair.

  "Alive!" she murmured, grasping his hand in hers. "You alive!"

  Louise had taken his other hand. He was imprisoned between the two.

  "Yes!" he said, "I made what they called a wonderful recovery. I supposeit was almost a miracle."

  "But your death," Louise declared, "was never contradicted."

  "A good deal of news went astray about that time," he remarked grimly. "Iwas left, and forgotten. When I found what had been done, I let it go. Itseemed to me to be better. I went up to Rhodesia, and of course I had thedevil's luck. I've come back to Europe simply because I couldn't stand itany longer. I was not coming to England, and I had no idea of seeing you,Emilie! I travelled here on a little pilgrimage."

  "It was fate," she murmured.

  "But since I am here," he continued, "and since we have met again, I mustask you this. Your husband is trying to divorce you?"

  "Yes!" she murmured.

  "And why?"

  "Because he is a brute," she answered quietly. "We have been separatedfor more than a year. I think that he wants to marry again."

  "And you permit this?" he asked.

  "No!" she answered, "I contest it. Up to now, the courts have been inmy favour."

  "Up to now! They must always be in your favour!" he declared vehemently."What can they say against a saint like you?"

  She smiled up at him tenderly, a little wistfully.

  "They would say a good deal," she whispered, "if they could see youhere now."

  He drew abruptly away.

  "I am a thoughtless brute," he declared. "It was for that that I decidedto remain dead. I will go away at once."

  Her fingers closed over his. She drew him a little nearer with gladrecklessness.

  "You shall not," she murmured. "It is worth a little risk, this."

  Wrayson touched Louise on the arm and they turned away. He found her aseat in a quiet corner of the fruit garden, where a tall row ofhollyhocks shielded them from observation. She was very white, and in asemi-hysterical state.

  "I can't believe," she said, "that that is really Duncan--Duncan himself.It is too wonderful!"

  "There is no doubt about it being your brother," he answered. "What Idon't quite understand is why he has kept away so long."

  "It is because of her," she answered. "If they had been on the samecontinent, I believe that nothing could have kept them apart!"

  "And now?" he asked.

  "I cannot tell," she answered, "I, nor any one else! God made them forone another, I am very sure!"

  He took her hand and held it tightly in his.

  "And you for me, dearest," he whispered. "Shall I tell you why I amsure of it?"

  She leaned back with half-closed eyes. Endurance has its limits, and themesmeric influence of the drowsy summer day was in her veins.

  "If you like," she murmured, simply....

  And only a few yards away, the man from the dead and the woman who hadloved him seemed to have drifted into a summer day-dream. The strangenessof this thing held them both--ordinary intercourse seemed impossible.What they spoke about they scarcely knew! There were days, golden days tobe whispered about and lived again; treasured minutes to be recalled,looks and words remembered. Of the future, of the actual present, save oftheir two selves, they scarcely spoke. It was an hour snatched fromParadise for her! She would not let it go lightly. She would not suffereven a cloud to pass across it!

  In time, Monsieur Jules found himself constrained to announce that_dejeuner_ was served. He found it useless to try to attract theattention of either Madame de Melbain or Duncan, so he went in searchof Wrayson.

  "Monsieur is served," he announced, looking blandly upwards at a passingcloud. "There remains the wine only."

  "Chablis of the best, and ice, and mineral water," Wrayson ordered."Come, Louise."

  She sighed a little as she rose and followed him along the narrow path,where the rose-bushes brushed against her skirt, and the air was fragrantwith lavender. It had been an interlude only, after all, though the manwhose hand she still held would never have admitted it. But--he did notknow! She prayed to Heaven that he never might.

  Luncheon, after all, with a waiter within hearing, and Monsieur Juleshovering round, banished in a great measure the curious sense ofunreality from which none of them were wholly free. And when coffee came,Madame leaned a little towards Duncan, and with her hand upon his armwhispered a question.

  "My letters, Duncan! What became of them?"

  He sighed.

  "I was a little rash, perhaps," he said, "but--they were all I had left.They were with me at Colenso, in an envelope, sealed and addressed, to beburnt unopened. When I was hit, I got a Red Cross man to cut them out ofmy coat and destroy them."

  Madame de Melbain looked at him for a moment, and her eyes were softwith unshed tears. Then she turned away, though her hand stillrested upon his.

  "Duncan," she said quietly, "don't think that I mind. You did all thatyou could, and indeed I would rather that you cared so much. But theletters were not destroyed."

  For a moment he failed to realize the import of her words.

  "Not destroyed?" he repeated, a little vaguely.

  "No!" she answered. "They came into the hands of some one in London.Terrible things have happened in connexion with them. Duncan, if you willlisten to me quietly, I will tell you about it. Sit down, dear."

  She saw the gathering storm. The man's face was black with anger. He wasstill a little dazed however.

  "You mean--that the man to whom I trusted them--"

  "He kept them for his own purpose," she said softly.

  "Don't look like that, Duncan. He has paid his debt. He is dead!"

  "And the letters?"

  "We do not know. My husband's advisers are trying to get possession ofthem. That is why the courts have not yet pronounced their judgment."

  He had risen to his feet, but she drew him gently down again.

  "Remember, Duncan, that the man is dead! Be calm, and I will tell you allabout it."

  He looked at her wonderingly.

  "You are not angry with me?"

  "Angry! Why should I be? I am only happy to know that you neverforgot--that you could not bear to destroy the only link that was leftbetween us. Do you know, I am almost sorry that I spoke to you aboutthis! We seem to have snatched an hour or two out of Paradise, and itis I who have stirred up the dark waters. Let us forget it for a fewmore minutes!"

  He drew her away with him towards their seat under the trees. Wraysonlooked across at Louise with a smile.

  "You, too," he said. "May we not forget a little longer?"

  She smiled at him sadly, and shook her head.


  "No!" she answered. "With them it is different. I can scarcely yetrealize that I have a brother: think what it must be to Emilie to havethe man whom she loved come back from the grave. Listen!"

  Outside they heard the sound of galloping horses. A moment later theBaron de Courcelles issued from the inn and crossed the lawn towardsMadame de Melbain.

  "Madame," he said, "the man who was caught in the park last night is,without doubt, a spy from Mexonia! He can be charged with nothing moreserious than trespass, and in a few minutes he will be free. Should hereturn, this"--he glanced towards Duncan--"would be the end. I have acarriage waiting for you."

  Madame de Melbain rose at once. With a little gesture of excuse she drewDuncan on one side.

  "Wait here," she begged, "until you hear from me. Baron de Courcelles ismy one faithful friend at Court. I am going to consult with him."

  "I shall see you again?" he asked.

  She hesitated.

  "Is it wise?" she murmured. "If my enemies knew that you were alive,that I had seen you here, what chance should I have, do you think,before the courts?"

  He bent over her hands.

  "I have brought enough trouble upon you," he said simply. "I will wait!Only I hope that there will be work for me to do!"