CHAPTER XXV
DRACONMEYER IS DESPERATE
Draconmeyer stood before the window of his room, looking out over theMediterranean. There was no finer view to be obtained from any suite inthe hotel, and Monte Carlo had revelled all that day in the golden,transfiguring sunshine. Yet he looked as a blind man. His eyes sawnothing of the blue sea or the brown-sailed fishing boats, nor did heonce glance towards the picturesque harbour. He saw only his own future,the shattered pieces of his carefully-thought-out scheme. The first furyhad passed. His brain was working now. In her room below, LadyHunterleys was lying on the couch, half hysterical. Three times she hadsent for her husband. If he should return at that moment, Draconmeyerknew that the game was up. There would be no bandying words betweenthem, no involved explanations, no possibility of any furthermisunderstanding. All his little tissue of lies and misrepresentationswould crumble hopelessly to pieces. The one feeling in her heart wouldbe thankfulness. She would open her arms. He saw the end with fatal,unerring truthfulness.
His servant returned. Draconmeyer waited eagerly for his message.
"Lady Hunterleys is lying down, sir," the man announced. "She is verymuch upset and begs you to excuse her."
Draconmeyer waved the man away and walked up and down the apartment, hishands behind his back, his lips hard-set. He was face to face with acrisis which baffled him completely, and yet which he felt to be whollyunworthy of his powers. His brain had never been keener, his sense ofpower more inspiring. Yet he had never felt more impotent. It waswoman's hysteria against which he had to fight. The ordinary weaponswere useless. He realised quite well her condition and the dangersresulting from it. The heart of the woman was once more beating to itsown natural tune. If Hunterleys should present himself within the nextfew minutes, not all his ingenuity nor the power of his millions couldsave the situation.
Plans shaped themselves almost automatically in his mind. He passed fromhis own apartments, through a connecting door into a large andbeautifully-furnished salon. A woman with grey hair and white face waslying on a couch by the window. She turned her head as he entered andlooked at him questioningly. Her face was fragile and her features weresharpened by suffering. She looked at her husband almost as a cowed butstill affectionate animal might look towards a stern master.
"Do you feel well enough to walk as far as Lady Hunterleys' apartmentwith the aid of my arm?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied. "Does Violet want me?"
"She is still feeling the shock," Draconmeyer said. "I think that she isinclined to be hysterical. It would do her good to have you talk withher."
The nurse, who had been sitting by her side, assisted her patient torise. She leaned on her husband's arm. In her other hand she carried ablack ebony walking-stick. They traversed the corridor, knocked at thedoor of Lady Hunterleys' apartment, and in response to a somewhathesitating invitation, entered. Violet was lying upon the sofa. Shelooked up eagerly at their coming.
"Linda!" she exclaimed. "How dear of you! I thought that it might havebeen Henry," she added, as though to explain the disappointment in hertone.
Draconmeyer turned away to hide his expression.
"Talk to her as lightly as possible," he whispered to his wife, "butdon't leave her alone. I will come back for you in ten minutes."
He left the two women together and descended into the hall. He foundseveral of the reception clerks whispering together. The concierge hadonly just recovered himself, but the place was beginning to wear itsnormal aspect. He whispered an enquiry at the desk. Sir Henry Hunterleyshad just come in and had gone upstairs, he was told. His new room wasnumber 148.
"There was a note from his wife," Draconmeyer said, trying hard tocontrol his voice. "Has he had it?"
"It is here still, sir," the clerk replied. "I tried to catch Sir Henryas he passed through, but he was too quick for me. To tell you thetruth," he went on, "there has been a rumour through the hotel that itwas Sir Henry himself who had been found dead in his room, and seeinghim come in was rather a shock for all of us."
"Naturally," Draconmeyer agreed. "If you will give me the note I willtake it up to him."
The clerk handed it over without hesitation. Draconmeyer returnedimmediately to his own apartments and torn open the envelope. There wereonly a few words scrawled across the half-sheet of notepaper:
Henry, come to me, dear, at once. I have had such a shock. I want to see you.
Vi.
He tore the note viciously into small pieces. Then he went back to LadyHunterleys' apartments. She was sitting up now in an easy-chair. Oncemore, at the sound of the knock, she looked towards the door eagerly.Her face fell when Draconmeyer entered.
"Have you heard anything about Henry?" she asked anxiously.
"He came back a few minutes ago," Draconmeyer replied, "and has gone outagain."
"Gone out again?"
Draconmeyer nodded.
"I think that he has gone round to the Club. He is a man of splendidnerve, your husband. He seemed to treat the whole affair as an excellentjoke."
"A joke!" she repeated blankly.
"This sort of thing happens so often in Monte Carlo," he observed, in amatter-of-fact tone. "The hotel people seem all to look upon it as inthe day's work."
"I wonder if Henry had my note?" she faltered.
"He was reading one in the hall when I saw him," Draconmeyer told her."That would be yours, I should think. He left a message at the deskwhich was doubtless meant for you. He has gone on to the Sporting Clubfor an hour and will probably be back in time to change for dinner."
Violet sat quite still for several moments. Something seemed to dieslowly out of her face. Presently she rose to her feet.
"I suppose," she said, "that I am very foolish to allow myself to beupset like this."
"It is quite natural," Draconmeyer assured her soothingly. "What youshould try to do is to forget the whole circumstance. You sit herebrooding about it until it becomes a tragedy. Let us go down to the Clubtogether. We shall probably see your husband there."
She hesitated. She seemed still perplexed.
"I wonder," she murmured, "could I send another message to him? Perhapshe didn't quite understand."
"Much better come along to the Club," Draconmeyer advised,good-humouredly. "You can be there yourself before a message could reachhim."
"Very well," she assented. "I will be ready in ten minutes...."
Draconmeyer took his wife back to her room.
"Did I do as you wished, dear?" she asked him anxiously.
"Absolutely," he replied.
He helped her back to her couch and stooped and kissed her. She leanedback wearily. It was obvious that she had found the exertion of movingeven so far exhausting. Then he returned to his own apartments. Rapidlyhe unlocked his dispatch box and took out one or two notes from Violet.They were all of no importance--answers to invitations, or appointments.He spread them out, took a sheet of paper and a broad pen. Withouthesitation he wrote:
Congratulations on your escape, but why do you run such risks! I wish you would go back to England.
VIOLET.
He held the sheet of notepaper a little away from him and looked at itcritically. The imitation was excellent. He thrust the few lines into anenvelope, addressed them to Hunterleys and descended to the hall. Heleft the note at the office.
"Send this up to Sir Henry, will you?" he instructed. "Let him have itas quickly as possible."
Once more he crossed the hall and waited close to the lift by which shewould descend. All the time he kept on glancing nervously around. Thingswere going his way, but the great danger remained--if they should meetfirst by chance in the corridor, or in the lift! Hunterleys might thinkit his duty to go at once to his wife's apartment in case she had heardthe rumour of his death. The minutes dragged by. He had climbed thegreat ladder slowly. More than once he had felt it sway beneath hisfeet. Yet to him those moments seemed almost the longest of his life.Then at last
she came. She was looking very pale, but to his relief hesaw that she was dressed for the Club. She was wearing a grey dress andblack hat. He remembered with a pang of fury that grey was her husband'sfavourite colour.
"I suppose there is no doubt that Henry is at the Club?" she asked,looking eagerly around the hall.
"Not the slightest," he assured her. "We can have some tea there and weare certain to come across him somewhere."
She made no further difficulty. As they turned into the long passage hegave a sigh of relief. Every step they took meant safety. He talked toher as lightly as possible, ignoring the fact that she scarcely repliedto him. They mounted the stairs and entered the Club. She lookedanxiously up and down the crowded rooms.
"I shall stroll about and look for Henry," she announced.
"Very well," he agreed. "I will go over to your place and see how thenumbers are going."
He stood by the roulette table, but he watched her covertly. She passedthrough the baccarat room, came out again and walked the whole length ofthe larger apartment. She even looked into the restaurant beyond. Thenshe came slowly back to where Draconmeyer was standing. She seemedtired. She scarcely even glanced at the table.
"Lady Hunterleys," he exclaimed impressively, "this is positivelywicked! Your twenty-nine has turned up twice within the last fewminutes. Do sit down and try your luck and I will go and see if I canfind your husband."
He pushed a handful of plaques and a bundle of notes into her hand. Atthat moment the croupier's voice was heard.
_"Quatorze rouge, pair et manque."_
"Another of my numbers!" she murmured, with a faint show of interest. "Idon't think I want to play, though."
"Try just a few coups," he begged. "You see, there is a chair here. Youmay not have a chance again for hours."
He was using all his will power. Somehow or other, she found herselfseated in front of the table. The sight of the pile of plaques and theroll of notes was inspiring. She leaned across and with tremblingfingers backed number fourteen _en plein_, with all the _carres_ and_chevaux_. She was playing the game at which she had lost sopersistently. He walked slowly away. Every now and then from a distancehe watched her. She was winning and losing alternately, but she hadsettled down now in earnest. He breathed a great sigh of relief and tooka seat upon a divan, whence he could see if she moved. Richard Lane, whohad been standing at the other side of the table, crossed the room andcame over to him.
"Say, do you know where Sir Henry is?" he enquired.
Draconmeyer shook his head.
"I have scarcely seen him all day."
"I think I'll go round to the hotel and look him up," Lane decidedcarelessly. "I'm fed up with this--"
He stopped short. He was no longer an exceedingly bored anddiscontented-looking young man. Draconmeyer glanced at him curiously. Hefelt a thrill of sympathy. This stolid young man, then, was capable offeeling something of the same emotion as was tearing at his ownheart-strings. Lane was gazing with transfigured face towards the opendoorway.