The White Lie Part 30

"You worked the game splendidly, Ted," Hoggan declared. "What fools some women are."

"And you acted the part of lover perfectly, too. That night when I caught you two together on the terrace at Monte Carlo--you remember? She was leaning over the bal.u.s.trade, looking out upon the moonlit sea, and you were kissing her. Then I caught you at supper later, and found that you were staying at the hotel where she was staying. All very compromising for her, eh? When I called on her a week afterwards, and suggested that she could shut my mouth for a consideration, I saw in a moment that she was in deadly fear lest her husband should know. But I was unaware that her husband had no idea that she had been to Monte, but believed her to be staying with her sister near Edinburgh."

"She's paid pretty dearly for flirting with me," remarked Silas P.

Hoggan with a grin.

"Just as one or two others have, boy. Say, do you recollect that ugly old widow in Venice? Je-hu! what a face! And didn't we make her cough up, too--six thousand!"

"I'm rather sorry for the Michelcoombe woman," remarked Hoggan. "She's a decent little sort."

"Still believes in you, boy, and looks upon me as a skunk. She has no idea that you and I are in partnership," he laughed. "We'll get a thousand or two more out of her yet. Fortunately, she doesn't know the exact extent of my knowledge of her skittish indiscretions. Say, we struck lucky when we fell in with her, eh?"

Hoggan reflected. It was certainly a cruel trick to have played upon a woman. They had met casually in the Rooms at Monte Carlo, then he had contrived to chat with her, invited her to tea at a famous _cafe_, strolled with her, dined with her, and within a week had so fascinated her with his charming manner that she had fallen in love with him, the result being that Patten, who had watched the pair, suddenly came upon them, and afterwards demanded hush-money, which he divided with his friend.

Such instances of blackmail are much more frequent than are supposed.

There is a cla.s.s of low-down adventurer who haunts the gayer resorts of Europe, ever on the look-out for young married women who have been ordered abroad for the benefit of their health, and whose husbands, on account of their social, Parliamentary, or business duties, cannot accompany them.

Hunting in couples, they mark down a victim, and while one, giving himself the airs of wealth, and a.s.suming a t.i.tle, proceeds to flirt with the lady, the other carefully watches. Too often a woman at the gay watering-places of Europe finds the gaiety infectious and behaves indiscreetly; too often she flirts with the good-looking young stranger until, suddenly surprised in compromising circ.u.mstances, she realises that her husband must never know, and is filled with fear lest he may discover how she has allowed herself to be misled.

Then comes the blackmailer's chance. A hint that it would be better to pay than court exposure generally has the desired effect, with the result that the woman usually p.a.w.ns what jewellery she possesses, and pays up.

Many an unfortunate woman, though perfectly innocent of having committed any wrong, has paid up, and even been driven to suicide rather than allow the seeds of suspicion to be sown in her husband's heart.

It was so in Lady Michelcoombe's case. She was a sweet little woman, daughter of a well-known earl, and married to Viscount Michelcoombe, a man of great wealth, with a house in Grosvenor Square and four country seats. Already the pair of adventurers had compelled her to p.a.w.n some of her jewels and hand them the proceeds. She was quite innocent of having committed any wrong, yet she dreaded lest her husband's suspicions might be excited, and had no desire that he should learn that she had deceived him by going to Monte Carlo instead of to her sister's. The real reason was that she liked the gaiety and sunshine of the place, while her husband strongly disapproved of it.

Certainly her clandestine visit had cost her dear.

"Well," exclaimed Hoggan, the perfect lover, "you'd better see her ladyship as soon as possible. Guess she's still in London, eh?"

"I'll ring up later on and ask the fat old butler. But you clear out right away, boy. There's no time to lose. Write to me at the _Poste Restante_ in the Strand. Don't write here, the police may get hold of my mail."

"If her ladyship turns on you, I guess you'll have to look slick."

"Bah! No fear of that, sonny. We've got her right there."

"You can't ever be sure where a woman is concerned. She might suddenly throw discretion to the winds, and tell her husband all about it. Then you, too, would have to clear right away."

"Guess I should," replied Patten. "But I don't fear her. I mean to get another thousand out of her. Women who make fools of themselves have to pay for it."

"Well, I must say you engineered it wonderfully," declared Hoggan.

"And I'll do so again with a little luck," his friend declared. "Come and have another c.o.c.ktail, and then shake the dust of this infernal city off your feet. Every time you have a drink things look different."

The two men pa.s.sed into the inner room, where the bar was situated, and after a final Martini each, went out together into the handsome hall of the hotel.

"Wal, so long, old pal! Clear out right away," whispered Patten, as he shook his friend's hand.

And next moment Silas P. Hoggan pa.s.sed across the courtyard and into the busy Strand, once more a fugitive from justice.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE GREEN TABLE.

One afternoon a fortnight later Ralph Ansell, well dressed, and posing as usual as a wealthy American, who had lived for many years in France, stood at the window of his room in the expensive Palace Hotel at Trouville, gazing upon the sunny _plage_, with its boarded promenade placed on the wide stretch of yellow sand.

In the sunshine there were many bathers in remarkable costumes, enjoying a dip in the blue sea, while the crowd of promenaders in summer clothes pa.s.sed up and down. The season was at its height, for it was the race week at Deauville, and all the pleasure world of Paris had flocked there.

Surely in the whole of gay Europe there is no brighter watering place than Trouville-sur-Mer during the race week, and certainly the played-out old Riviera, with the eternal Monte, is never so _chic_, nor are the extravagant _modes_ ever so much in evidence, as at the Normandie at Deauville, or upon the boarded promenade which runs before those big, white hotels on the sands at Trouville.

Prices were, of course, prohibitive. The casino was at its gayest and brightest, and the well-known American bar, close to the last-named inst.i.tution, Ansell patronised daily in order to sc.r.a.pe acquaintance with its chance customers.

Having been up playing cards the greater part of the night before, he had eaten his luncheon in bed, and had just risen and dressed.

He gazed out of his window down upon the sunny scene of seaside revelry, as a bitter smile played upon his lips.

"What infernal luck I had last night," he muttered, between his teeth.

Then glancing at the dressing-table, his eyes fell upon the hotel bill, which had come up on the tray with his _dejeuner_. "Fourteen hundred and eighteen francs," he muttered, "and only those three louis to pay it with."

Those last three louis had been flung carelessly upon the table when he had undressed at six o'clock that morning.

He took them in his palm and looked at them.

"Not a word from Ted," he went on, with a sigh. "I wonder what can have happened. Has he got a bit more out of the Michelcoombe woman and cleared out? No," he added, "he's a white man. He'd never prove a blackguard like that."

Ralph Ansell had not recalled his own dastardly action when he robbed, deserted, and trapped his accomplice, Adolphe Carlier.

For a long time he remained silent as slowly he paced the small, well-furnished room, his hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets, his eyes fixed upon the carpet. His fertile, inventive brain was trying to devise some subtle means to obtain money. He was a genius regarding schemes, and he put them before his victims in such an inviting and attractive way that they found refusal impossible. For some of the wildest of schemes he had been successful in subscribing money--money which had enabled him to live well, to travel up and down Europe, and pose as a man of considerable means.

Railway concessions in the Balkans, the exploitation of oil in Roumania, of tin in Montenegro, and copper in Servia, had all been fruitful sources of income, and now when they had failed he had fallen back upon his skill at cards.

On the previous night, at a disreputable but luxuriant gaming-house situated only a few dozen paces from the hotel, he had met his match. His opponent was too wary, and he had lost very considerably. Indeed, all that remained to him were those three golden louis.

And with that slender capital he intended that night to retrieve his lost fortune. It is usually easy for the cheat to retrieve his fortune.

So with a laugh he lit a fresh cigarette, put his three louis in his pocket, and muttered, "I wish to Heaven Ted would come over here. We might work something big. I'll wire him."

Then, examining himself in the gla.s.s, and settling his tie, he walked out at three o'clock in the afternoon, his first appearance that day.

Emerging from the lift into the hall, he pa.s.sed through the low-built lounge, where a number of summer muslin-dressed idlers were chatting and laughing, and strode out upon the boards placed upon the golden sea-sands outside the hotel.

Trouville is unique. Other watering-places have a drive along the sea-front, but the gay little bathing "trou" has no sea-front. The hotels abut upon the actual sands, just as Arcachon abuts upon its shallow oyster-beds.

Ansell had not gone half-a-dozen yards along the _plage_ before he met a young Englishman whose acquaintance he had made in a night _cafe_ on the previous evening--a young cavalry officer, who greeted him merrily, believing him to be the well-known American financier. Even the men who are "British officers and gentlemen" in these days are p.r.o.ne to bow the knee to American dollars, the golden key which unlocks the door of the most exclusive English society. Only the old-fashioned squire of the country village, the old-fashioned English hunting gentleman, will despise the men who aspire to society because they can buy society's smiles.

He walked with the young fellow as far as the casino. Ansell did not even know his name, and as he had already summed him up as living on his pay, with a load of debts behind, he did not trouble even to inquire.

Only wealthy "mugs" interested him.