Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo Part 44

Half an hour afterwards he took Mrs. Bond aside, and pointed out the peril in which he was placed. His hostess, on her part, grew alarmed, for though Hugh was unaware of it, she had no desire to meet the police.

That little affair in Paris was by no means forgotten.

"It is certainly rather curious," the woman admitted. "Evidently it is known by somebody that you are staying with me. Don't you think it would be wiser to leave?"

Hugh hesitated. He wished to take Benton's advice, and told his hostess so. With this she agreed, yet she was inwardly highly nervous at the situation. Any police inquiry at Shapley would certainly be most unwelcome to her, and she blamed herself for agreeing to Benton's proposal that Hugh should stay there.

"Benton will be back to-morrow," Hugh said. "Do you think it safe for me to remain here till then?" he added anxiously.

"I hardly know what to think," replied the woman. She herself had a haunting dread of recognition as Molly Maxwell. She had crossed and recrossed the Atlantic, carefully covering her tracks, and she did not intend to be cornered at last.

After dinner, Hugh, still greatly perturbed at the mysterious telephone call, played billiards with Louise. About a quarter to eleven, however, Mrs. Bond was called to the telephone and, closing the door, listened to an urgent message.

It was from Benton, who spoke from London--a few quick, cryptic, but rea.s.suring words--and when the woman left the room three minutes later all her anxiety as to the police had apparently pa.s.sed.

She joined the young couple and watched their game. Louise handled her cue well, and very nearly beat her opponent. Afterwards, when Louise went out, Mrs. Bond closed the door swiftly, and said:

"I've been thinking over that little matter, Mr. Henfrey. I really don't think there is much cause for alarm. Charles will be back to-morrow, and we can consult him."

Hugh shrugged his shoulders. He was much puzzled.

"The fact is, Mrs. Bond, I'm tired of being hunted like this!" he said.

"This eternal fear of arrest has got upon my nerves to such an extent that I feel if they want to bring me for trial--well, they can. I'm innocent--therefore, how can they prove me guilty?"

"Oh! you mustn't let it obsess you," the woman urged. "Mr. Benton has told me all about the unfortunate affair, and I greatly sympathize with you. Of course, to court the publicity of a trial would be fatal. What would your poor father think, I wonder, if he were still alive?"

"He's dead," said the young man in a low, hoa.r.s.e voice; "but Mademoiselle Ferad knows the secret of his death."

"He died suddenly--did he not?"

"Yes. He was murdered, Mrs. Bond. I'm certain of it. My father was murdered!"

"Murdered?" she echoed. "What did the doctors say?"

"They arrived at no definite conclusion," was Hugh's response. "He left home and went up to London on some secret and mysterious errand. Later, he was found lying upon the pavement in a dying condition. He never recovered consciousness, but sank a few hours afterwards. His death is one of the many unsolved mysteries of London."

"The police believe that you went to the Villa Amette and murdered Mademoiselle out of revenge."

"Let them prove it!" said the young fellow defiantly. "Let them prove it!"

"Prove what?" asked Louise, as she suddenly reopened the door, greatly to the woman's consternation.

"Oh! Only somebody--that Spicer woman over at G.o.dalming--has been saying some wicked and nasty things about Mr. Henfrey," replied Mrs. Bond.

"Personally, I should be annoyed. Really those gossiping people are simply intolerable."

"What have they been saying, Hugh?" asked the girl.

"Oh, it's really nothing," laughed Henfrey. "I apologize. I was put out a moment ago, but I now see the absurdity of it. Forgive me, Louise."

The girl looked from Mrs. Bond to her guest in amazement.

"What is there to forgive?" she asked.

"The fact that I was in the very act of losing my temper. That's all."

Presently, when Louise was ascending the stairs with Mrs. Bond, the girl asked:

"Why was Hugh so put out? What has Mrs. Spicer been saying about him?"

"Only that he was a shirker during the war. And, naturally, he is highly indignant."

"He has a right to be. He did splendidly. His record shows that,"

declared the girl.

"I urged him to take no notice of the insults. The Spicer woman has a very venomous tongue, my dear! She is a vicar's widow!"

And then they separated to their respective rooms.

Half an hour later Hugh Henfrey retired, but he found sleep impossible; so he got up and sat at the open window, gazing across to the dim outlines of the Surrey hills, picturesque and undulating beneath the stars.

Who could have called him on the telephone? It was a woman, but the voice might have been that of a female telephone operator. Or yet--it might have been that of Dorise! She knew that he was at Shapley and looked it up in the telephone directory. If that were the explanation, then she certainly would not give away the secret of his hiding-place.

Still he was haunted by a great dread the whole of that night. The Sparrow had told him he had acted foolishly in leaving his place of concealment in Kensington. The Sparrow was his firm friend, and in future he intended to obey the little old man's orders implicitly--as so many others did.

Next morning he came down to breakfast before the ladies, and beside his plate he found a letter--addressed to him openly. He had not received one addressed in his real name for many months. Sight of it caused his heart to bound in anxiety, but when he read it he stood rooted to the spot.

Those lines which he read staggered him; the room seemed to revolve, and he re-read them, scarce believing his own eyes.

He realized in that instant that a great blow had fallen upon him, and that all was now hopeless. The sunshine of his life, had in that single instant, been blotted out!

TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER

THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES

At the moment he had read the letter Mrs. Bond entered the room.

"Hallo! You're down early," she remarked. "And already had your letters, I see! They don't generally come so early. The postman has to walk over from Puttenham."

Then she took up her own and carelessly placed them aside. They consisted mostly of circulars and the accounts of Guildford tradesmen.

"Yes," he said, "I was down early. Lately I've acquired the habit of early rising."

"An excellent habit in a young man," she laughed. "All men who achieve success are early risers--so a Cabinet Minister said the other day. And really, I believe it."

"An hour in the early morning is worth three after dinner. That is why Cabinet Ministers entertain people at breakfast nowadays instead of at dinner. In the morning the brain is fresh and active--a fact recently discovered in our post-war days," Hugh said.

Then, as his hostess turned to the hot-plate upon the sideboard, lifting the covers to see what her cook had provided, he re-scanned the letter which had been openly addressed to him. It was from Dorise: