The Avenger Part 33

"I came here," she said, "to ask you, to beg you to go away."

"Then I am afraid you must write your mission down a failure," he answered doggedly, "for I refuse to go!"

Her eyes flashed at him from underneath her veil. He felt the pressure of her fingers upon his hand. He heard a little sigh--could it have been of relief?

"If I failed--" she began.

"And you have failed," he said decidedly.

"I was to bring you," she continued, "an invitation to dine to-night at the chateau. It is only a verbal one, but perhaps you will forgive that."

The colour streamed into his cheeks. He could scarcely believe his ears.

"Louise!" he exclaimed, "you mean it?"

"Yes!" she answered softly. "It would be better for you, better, perhaps, for me, if you would do as I ask--if you would go away and forget! But if you will not do that, there is no reason why you should not come to the chateau. A carriage will arrive for you at seven o'clock."

"And you will come with me again into the gardens?" he whispered pa.s.sionately.

"Perhaps," she murmured.

The horses, teased by the flies, tossed their heads, and the jingling of harness reminded Louise that half the village, from various vantage points, were watching the interview between the young lady from the chateau and the visitor at the inn.

"I must go at once," she said to Wrayson. "About to-night, do not be surprised at anything you see at the chateau. I have no time to say more.

If you notice anything that seems to you at all unusual, accept it naturally. I will explain afterwards."

She spoke a word to the immovable man on the box, and waved her hand to Wrayson as the horses started forward. They were round the corner in a moment, and out of sight. Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden vision of a man's face--a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his fellow-guest?

CHAPTER XXV

THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS

The two men did not meet again until luncheon-time, Anglicized into a one-o'clock meal for their benefit. Already seated at the table they found a short fair man, in the costume of a pedestrian tourist. He wore a tweed knickerbocker suit, and a knapsack lay upon the gra.s.s by his side.

As Wrayson and his fellow-guest arrived almost at the same time, the newcomer rose and bowed.

"Good morning, gentlemen!" he said. "I trust you will permit me a seat at your table. It appears to be the only one."

Duncan contented himself with a nod. Wrayson felt compelled to be a little more civil. The man certainly seemed harmless enough.

"A very delightful spot, gentlemen," he continued, "and a fine, a very fine church that in the valley. I am spending my holiday taking photographs of churches of a certain period in this vicinity. I am looking forward to explore this one."

"I am afraid," Wrayson remarked, "that I do not know much of ecclesiastical architecture, but the aesthetic effect of this one, at least, is very fine."

The newcomer nodded.

"You are an artist perhaps, sir?" he asked innocently.

"I hope so--in some degree," Wrayson answered.

"Every one is fundamentally an artist, I suppose, who is capable of appreciating a work of beauty."

Duncan smiled slightly to himself. So far he had not spoken.

"It is all new country to me," the newcomer continued, "but from what I have seen of it, I should think it a grand place for painters. Not much for the ordinary tourist, eh?"

"That depends," Wrayson answered, "upon the ordinary tourist."

"Exactly! Quite so!" the little man agreed. "Of course, if one wanted a quiet time, what could be better than this? There must be others who think so besides yourselves."

"Who?" Wrayson asked.

"Your fellow-guests here."

"We have no fellow-guests," Wrayson answered, a little incautiously.

The newcomer leaned back in his chair with a disconcerted look.

"Then I wonder why," he exclaimed, "the landlord told me that he had not a single room."

Wrayson bit his lip.

"I fancy," he said, "that he is not in the habit of having people stay here."

"I am afraid," the little fair man said, "that it is not an hospitable village. I tried to get a room elsewhere, but, alas! with no success.

They do not seem to want tourists at St. etarpe."

Wrayson looked at the knapsack, at the camera, and at the little man himself. He spoke English easily, and without any trace of an accent.

His clothes, too, had the look of having come from an English ready-made shop. Yet there was something about the man himself not altogether British.

"I fancy the people are busy getting ready for the harvest," Wrayson remarked at last. "You will find lots of places as pretty as this along the coast."

"Perhaps so," the visitor admitted, "and yet when one has taken a fancy to a place, it seems a pity to have to leave it so soon. You couldn't speak a word to the landlord for me, sir, I suppose--you or your friend.

I don't fancy he understood my French very well."

Wrayson shook his head.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use," he said. "As a matter of fact, I know that he does not intend to take any more visitors. He has not the staff to deal with them."

"It is a pity," the little man said dejectedly. "I think that I must try again in the village. By the by, sir, perhaps you can tell me to whom the chateau there belongs?"

"Madame la Baronne de Sturm," Wrayson answered. "At least, so our host told me yesterday."

"It is a very beautiful place--very beautiful," the tourist said reverently. "I dare say there is a chapel there, too! Can one gain admission there, do you know, sir?"