Havoc

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A SUPPER PARTY AT LUIGI'S

  Laverick walked into Luigi's Restaurant at about a quarter totwelve, and found the place crowded with many little supper-partieson their way to a fancy dress ball. The demand for tables was farin excess of the supply, but he had scarcely shown himself beforethe head maitre d'hotel came hurrying up.

  "Mademoiselle Idiale is waiting for you, sir," he announced at once."Will you be so good as to come this way?"

  Laverick followed him. She was sitting at the same table as lastnight, but she was alone, and it was laid, he noticed with surprise,only for two.

  "You have treated me," she said, as she held out her fingers, "toa new sensation. I have waited for you alone here for a quarter ofan hour--I! Such a thing has never happened to me before."

  "You do me too much honor," Laverick declared, seating himself andtaking up the carte.

  "Then, too," she continued, "I sup alone with you. That is what Iseldom do with any man. Not that I care for the appearance," sheadded, with a contemptuous wave of the hand. "Nothing troubles meless. It is simply that one man alone wearies me. Almost alwayshe will make love, and that I do not like. You, Mr. Laverick, I amnot afraid of. I do not think that you will make love to me."

  "Any intentions I may have had," Laverick remarked, with a sigh, "Iforthwith banish. You ask a hard task of your cavaliers, though,Mademoiselle."

  She smiled and looked at him from under her eyelids.

  "Not of you, I fancy, Mr. Laverick," she said. "I do not think thatyou are one of those who make love to every woman because she isgood-looking or famous."

  "To tell you the truth," Laverick admitted, "I find it hard to makelove to any one. I often feel the most profound admiration forindividual members of your sex, but to express one's self isdifficult--sometimes it is even embarrassing. For supper?"

  "It is ordered," she declared. "You are my guest."

  "Impossible!" Laverick asserted firmly. "I have been your guestat the Opera. You at least owe me the honor of being mine forsupper."

  She frowned a little. She was obviously unused to being contradicted.

  "I sup with you, then, another night," she insisted. "No," shecontinued, "If you are going to look like that, I take it back. Isup with you to-night. This is an ill omen for our futureacquaintance. I have given in to you already--I, who give in tono man. Give me some champagne, please."

  Laverick took the bottle from the ice-pail by his side, but thesommelier darted forward and served them.

  "I drink to our better understanding of one another, Mr. Laverick,"she said, raising her glass, "and, if you would like a double toast,I drink also to the early gratification of the curiosity which isconsuming you."

  "The curiosity?"

  "Yes! You are wondering all the time why it is that I chose lastnight to send and have you presented to me, why I came to youroffice in the city to-day with the excuse of investing money withyou, why I invited you to the Opera to-night, why I commanded youto supper here and am supping with you alone. Now confess thetruth; you are full of curiosity, is it not so?"

  "Frankly, I am."

  She smiled good-humoredly.

  "I knew it quite well. You are not conceited. You do not believe,as so many men would, that I have fallen in love with you. Youthink that there must be some object, and you ask yourself all thetime, 'What is it?' in your heart, Mr. Laverick, I wonder whetheryou have any idea."

  Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper. She looked at him with asuggestion of stealthiness from under her eyelids, a look which onlyneeded the slightest softening of her face to have made it somethingalmost irresistible.

  "I can assure you," Laverick said firmly, "that I have no idea."

  "Do you remember almost my first question to you?" she asked.

  "It was about the murder. You seemed interested in the fact thatmy office was within a few yards of the passage where it occurred."

  "Quite right," she admitted. "I see that your memory is very good.There, then, Mr. Laverick, you have the secret of my desire to meetyou."

  Laverick drank his wine slowly. The woman knew! Impossible! Hereyes were watching his face, but he held himself bravely. Whatcould she know? How could she guess?

  "Frankly," he said, "I do not understand. Your interest in mearises from the fact that my offices are near the scene of thatmurder. Well, to begin with, what concern have you in that?"

  "The murdered man," she declared thoughtfully, "was an acquaintanceof mine."

  "An acquaintance of yours!" Laverick exclaimed. "Why, he has notbeen identified. No one knows who he was."

  She raised her eyebrows very slightly.

  "Mr. Laverick," she murmured, "the newspapers do not tell youeverything. I repeat that the murdered man was an acquaintance ofmine. Only three days ago I traveled part of the way from Viennawith him."

  Laverick was intensely interested.

  "You could, perhaps, throw some light, then, upon his death?"

  "Perhaps I could," she answered. "I can tell you one thing, at anyrate, Mr. Laverick, if it is news to you. At the time when he wasmurdered, he was carrying a very large sum of money with him. Thisis a fact which has not been spoken of in the Press."

  Once again Laverick was thankful for those nerves of his. He satquite still. His face exhibited nothing more than the blankamazement which he certainly felt.

  "This is marvelous," he said. "Have you told the police?"

  "I have not," she answered. "I wish, if I can, to avoid tellingthe police."

  "But the money? To whom did it belong?"

  "Not to the murdered man."

  "To any one whom you know of?" he inquired.

  "I wonder," she said, after a moment of hesitation, "whether I amtelling you too much."

  "You are telling me a good deal," he admitted frankly.

  "I wonder how far," she asked, "you will be inclined to reciprocate?"

  "I reciprocate!" he exclaimed. "But what can I do? What do I knowof these things?"

  She stretched out her hand lazily, and drew towards her a wonderfulgold purse set with emeralds. Carefully opening it, she drew fromthe interior a small flat pocketbook, also of gold, with a greatuncut emerald set into its centre. This, too, she opened, and drewout several sheets of foreign note-paper pinned together at the top.These she glanced through until she came to the third or fourth.Then she bent it down and passed it across the table to Laverick.

  "You may read that," she said. "It is part of a report which I havehad in my pos session since Wednesday morning."

  Laverick drew the sheet towards him and read, in thin, angularcharacters, very distinct and plain:

  Some ten minutes after the assault, a policeman passed down the street but did not glance toward the passage. The next person to appear was a gentleman who left some offices on the same side as the passage, and walked down evidently on his homeward way. He glanced up the passage and saw the body lying there. He disappeared for a moment and struck a match. A minute afterwards he emerged from the passage, looked up and down the street, and finding it empty returned to the office from which he had issued, let himself in with his latchkey, and closed the door behind him. He was there for about ten minutes. When he reappeared, he walked quickly down the street and for obvious reasons I was unable to follow him.

  The address of the offices which he left and re-entered was Messrs. Laverick & Morrison, Stockbrokers.

  "That interests you, Mr. Laverick?" she asked softly.

  He handed it back to her.

  "It interests me very much," he answered. "Who was this unseenperson who wrote from the clouds?"

  "I may not tell you all my secrets, Mr. Laverick," she declared."What have you done with that twenty thousand pounds?"

  Laverick helped himself to champagne. He listened for a moment tothe
music, and looked into the wonderful eyes which shone from thatbeautiful face a few feet away. Her lips were slightly parted, herforehead wrinkled. There was nothing of the accuser in hercountenance; a gentle irony was its most poignant expression.

  "Is this a fairy tale, Mademoiselle Idiale?"

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  "It might seem so," she answered. "Sometimes I think that all thetime we live two lives,--the life of which the world sees theoutside, and the life inside of which no one save ourselves knowsanything at all. Look, for instance, at all these people--thesechorus girls and young men about town--the older ones, too--allhungry for pleasure, all drinking at the cup of life as though theyhad indeed but to-day and to-morrow in which to live and enjoy.Have they no shadows, too, no secrets? They seem so harmless, yetif the great white truth shone down, might one not find a murdererthere, a dying man who knew his terrible secret, yonder a Croesuson the verge of bankruptcy, a strong man playing with dishonor? Butthose are the things of the other world which we do not see. Themen look at us to-night and they envy you because you are with me.The women envy me more because I have emeralds upon my neck andshoulders for which they would give their souls, and a famethroughout Europe which would turn their foolish heads in a veryfew minutes. But they do not know. There are the shadows acrossmy path, and I think that there are the shadows across yours. Whatdo you say, Mr. Laverick?"

  He looked at her, curiously moved. Now at last he began to believethat it was true what they said of her, that she was indeed amarvelous woman. She had a fame which would have contented ninehundred and ninety-nine women out of a thousand. She had beauty,and, more wonderful still, the grace, the fascination which areirresistible. She had but to lift a finger and there were fewwho would not kneel to do her bidding. And yet, behind it all therewere other things in her life. Had she sought them, or had theycome to her?

  "You are one of those wise people, Mr. Laverick," she said, "whorealize the danger of words. You believe in silence. Well, silenceis often good. You do not choose to admit anything."

  "What is there for me to admit? Do you want to know whether I amthe man who left those offices, who disappeared into the passage,who reappeared again--"

  "With a pocket-book containing twenty thousand pounds," she murmuredacross the flowers.

  "At least tell me this?" he demanded. "Was the money yours?"

  "I am not like you," she replied. "I have talked a great deal andI have reached the limit of the things which I may tell you."

  "But where are we?" he asked. "Are you seriously accusing me ofhaving robbed this murdered man?"

  "Be thankful," she declared, "that I am not accusing you of havingmurdered him."

  "But seriously," he insisted, "am I on my defence have I to accountfor my movements that night as against the written word of yourmysterious informant? Is it you who are charging me with being athief? Is it to you I am to account for my actions, to defend myselfor to plead guilty?"

  She shook her head.

  "No," she answered. "I have said almost my last word to you uponthis subject. All that I have to ask of you is this. If thatpocket-book is in your possession, empty it first of its contents,then go over it carefully with your fingers and see if there is nota secret pocket. If you discover that, I think that you will findin it a sealed document. If you find that document, you must bringit to me."

  The lights went down. The voice of the waiter murmured somethingin his ears.

  "It is after hours," Mademoiselle Idiale said, "but Luigi does notwish to disturb us. Still, perhaps we had better go."

  They passed down the room. To Laverick it was all--like a dream--thelaughing crowd, the flushed men and bright-eyed women, thelowered lights, the air of voluptuousness which somehow seemed tohave enfolded the place. In the hall her maid came up. A smallmotor-brougham, with two servants on the box, was standing at thedoorway. Mademoiselle turned suddenly and gave him her hand.

  "Our supper-party, I think, Mr. Laverick," she said, "has been quitea success. We shall before long, I hope, meet again."

  He handed her into the carriage. Her maid walked with them. Thefootman stood erect by his side. There were no further words to bespoken. A little crowd in the doorway envied him as he stoodbareheaded upon the pavement.