The Mischief-Maker Part 63

It was over, indeed. She raised her head and sang, sang ravishingly, charmingly, a gay love-song. Falkenberg was the first to applaud her.

"To-night, dear," he murmured, "you are wonderful. You sing from the heart, your voice has feeling, you bring to one the exquisite moments.... Behold, the supper arrives! Estermen has made friends now with his little _danseuse_. Sit closer to me, dear. These are the golden hours. Give me your hand, look into my eyes, drink with me....

How the minutes pa.s.s! There is magic in this place."

Towards four o'clock Falkenberg and his companions came down the narrow stairs, out into the morning. A fine rain was falling, the pavements were already wet. Falkenberg was still gay, still laughing and talking.

Behind, a little company--the _chef d'orchestre_, the chief _maitre d'hotel_, the flower girl--wondering at his generosity, stood at the head of the stairs to bid him G.o.dspeed. He gave a louis to the _commissionaire_ and called for a special carriage. He had almost to lift Marguerite inside.

"Dear child," he said, holding her hands, "here we must part for a time--not for so long, perhaps. Who can tell? It is a comfortable carriage, this. Here is a handful of money for the fare. It is of no use to me."

He emptied his pockets into her lap as she sat there. She made no effort to pick up the shower of gold and silver.

"What do you mean--that it is of no use to you?"

"We drive for home," he answered. "We shall need no money to take us there. Listen."

He drew her face very close to his.

"When you arrive at your apartment," he said, "you will find there a little packet from me. Be wise, dear. If chance will have it that we do not meet again very soon, may it help you to take all out of life that you can find. Only sometimes when the heart is joyous, when the wine flows and your feet are keeping time to the music of life, think for a moment--of one who dwells, alas! in a quieter country. Dear Marguerite!"

He kissed her, first upon the lips and then lightly on the forehead.

Then gently he thrust away the arms which she had wound around his neck. He waved to the coachman to drive off. With a little shrug of the shoulders he took his own place in the great touring car. Estermen, too, clambered into the tonneau.

"You have supped well, I trust, Henri?" the Prince asked the chauffeur.

"Without a doubt, Excellency," the man replied.

"Then drive for the frontier," Falkenberg ordered. "We will stop you when we need a rest."

They left Paris in the semi-darkness. They were away in the country before the faintest gleam of daylight broke through the eastern clouds.

Even then the way was still obscured. It was a stormy morning, and banks of murky clouds were piled up where the sun should have risen.

The rain still fell. Soon they commenced to ascend a range of hills. At the summit Falkenberg pulled the check-string.

"Henri," he said, "come in behind here. I will drive for a time--it will amuse me."

The man descended. Falkenberg took his place at the wheel. Estermen, obeying his gesture, scrambled into the seat by his side.

"Go to the signpost," his master ordered the chauffeur. "Tell me exactly, how many miles to Rheims?"

The man clambered up the bank. The gray morning twilight was breaking now through a sea of clouds. From where they were the vineyards sloped down to the bank. A thin, curving line of silver marked the course of the river. Here and there a little gleam of sunlight fell upon the country below them. Estermen closed his eyes.

"It makes me giddy," he muttered. "I hope that you will drive slowly down the hill!"

Falkenberg glanced to the left--the chauffeur was still peering at the milestone. He slipped in the clutch and the car glided off, gathering speed as though by magic.

"You have left Henri!" Estermen cried. "He is running after us. Stop the car! Can't you stop it?"

Falkenberg turned his head only once. The stone walls now on either side seemed flying past them. Estermen looked into his face and quaked with fear.

"This ride is for you and me alone, my friend!" Falkenberg replied.

"Sit tight and say your prayers, if it pleases you. This is better, after all, than poison, or the cold muzzle of a revolver at your forehead. Close your eyes if you are afraid; or open them, if you have the courage, and see the world spin by. We start on the great journey."

Estermen shrieked. He half rose to his feet, but Falkenberg, holding the wheel with his right hand, struck him across the face with his left so that he fell back in his place.

"If you try to leave the car," he said, "I swear that I will stop and come back. I will shoot you where you lie, like a dog. Be brave, man!

Be thankful that you are going to your death in honorable company and in honorable fashion! It's better, this, than the guillotine, isn't it?

Look at the country below, like patchwork, coming up to us. Listen to the wind rushing by. You see the trees, how they bend? You feel the rain stinging your cheeks? Sit still, man, and fix your thoughts where you will. Think of mademoiselle _la danseuse_, think of her kisses, think of the perfume of the violets at her bosom! You see, we arrive. Watch that corner of the viaduct."

They were traveling now at a terrific speed, falling fast to the level country. Before them was a high bridge, crossing the river. On the left, a portion of it was being repaired and a few boards alone were up for protection. Falkenberg, recognizing the spot for which he had been looking, settled down in his seat. A grim smile parted his lips.

"Jean Charles will never place his hand upon your shoulder now!" he cried. "Can you hear the wind sob, Estermen? Soon you'll hear the water in your ears! Hold fast. Don't spoil the end!"

They were going at sixty miles an hour, and with the slightest swerve of the steering wheel they turned to the left on entering the bridge and struck the boards. Henri, in his account of the accident, declared that although the car turned over before it reached the river, Falkenberg never left his seat. Estermen, on the other hand, was thrown violently out, and struck the water head foremost. From the condition of his body it would seem that death was instantaneous. Falkenberg was found with his arms locked around the steering wheel, his head bent forward. He, too, seemed to have been drowned almost immediately. The steering wheel was jammed, the car wrecked....

The authorities, who had left only a temporary protection while they repaired the viaduct on the bridge, were severely censured. The makers of the car were subjected to a very searching cross-examination. The brakes and the uncertain light were blamed. Henri, who from the hillside a mile or more back had watched with ghastly face, was the only one who understood the accident, and he kept silent!

CHAPTER XIX

ALL ENDS WELL

The d.u.c.h.ess of Clonarty was famous for doing the right thing. Three weeks after the return of Julien and Lady Anne to London, she gave a large dinner-party in their honor. At a quarter past eight, a telephone message from the House of Commons was received, explaining that Sir Julien would be ten minutes late, owing to his having to speak at greater length than he had first intended upon the Agdar question.

Lady Anne was waiting for him, and they would arrive together certainly within a quarter of an hour. The d.u.c.h.ess made every use of her opportunity. She was at her very best during that brief period which ensued while they waited for the delayed guests.

"You know, my dear Lady Cardington," she explained, raising her voice a little to indicate that this was not entirely a confidence, "I never dreamed that dear Anne had so much self-confidence and resolution. Even now I have scarcely given up wondering at it. If she had only told me that she was so sincerely attached to Julien, I would never have listened for one moment to that Harbord affair. It was a mistake, of course," she rippled on, "but then one learns so much by one's mistakes. Notwithstanding their wealth, they were most terrible and impossible people. I am sure the a.s.sociation would have been most distasteful to the Duke. Poor Henry used to lock himself in his study when any of them were about the place, and what it would have been if they were really able to call themselves connections, I cannot imagine.

You were speaking of the Carraby woman a few minutes ago. My dear Eva!

Of course, you have heard about her? Her husband, when he resigned, gave out that he was obliged to go abroad for his wife's health. My dear, his wife had already left him, three days before! She was seen in Paris with Bob Sutherland. I hear the divorce suit is filed. What a terrible woman!"

"A great escape, I am sure, for Sir Julien," Lady Cardington declared.

The d.u.c.h.ess drew a little breath.

"Poor Julien was always so chivalrous," she murmured. "How thankful your dear husband must be to think that at last he has one person in his Cabinet who does command some sort of a following in the country!"

The d.u.c.h.ess delivered her little shaft and moved to the door. Sir Julien and Lady Anne Portel had just been announced. It was almost a family dinner. The d.u.c.h.ess took Julien's arm and drew him into a corner while the others filed past.

"Is it true," she whispered, "that the Carraby woman has bolted?"

Julien nodded.

"I am afraid there isn't a doubt about it," he admitted.

"How are things to-night? Anything new?" she asked.

"Quite calm again," he replied. "The trouble seems to have pa.s.sed over.