CHAPTER III
A WARNING
Hunterleys dined alone at a small round table, set in a remote corner ofthe great restaurant attached to the Hotel de Paris. The scene aroundhim was full of colour and interest. A scarlet-coated band madewonderful music. The toilettes of the women who kept passing backwardsand forwards, on their way to the various tables, were marvellous; intheir way unique. The lights and flowers of the room, its appointmentsand adornments, all represented the last word in luxury. Everywhere wascolour, everywhere an almost strained attempt to impress upon thepasserby the fact that this was no ordinary holiday resort but the giantpleasure-ground of all in the world who had money to throw away and thecapacity for enjoyment. Only once a more somber note seemed struck whenMrs. Draconmeyer, leaning on her husband's arm and accompanied by anurse and Lady Hunterleys, passed to their table. Hunterleys' eyesfollowed the little party until they had reached their destination andtaken their places. His wife was wearing black and she had discarded thepearls which had hung around her neck during the afternoon. She woreonly a collar of diamonds, his gift. Her hair was far less elaboratelycoiffured and her toilette less magnificent than the toilettes of thewomen by whom she was surrounded. Yet as he looked from his corneracross the room at her, Hunterleys realised as he had realised instantlytwelve years ago when he had first met her, that she was incomparable.There was no other woman in the whole of that great restaurant with herair of quiet elegance; no other woman so faultless in the smallerdetails of her toilette and person. Hunterleys watched withexpressionless face but with anger growing in his heart, as he sawDraconmeyer bending towards her, accepting her suggestions about thedinner, laughing when she laughed, watching almost humbly for herpleasure or displeasure. It was a cursed mischance which had brought himto Monte Carlo!
Hunterleys hurried over his dinner, and without even going to his roomfor a hat or coat, walked across the square in the soft twilight of anunusually warm February evening and took a table outside the Cafe deParis, where he ordered coffee. Around him was a far more cosmopolitancrowd, increasing every moment in volume. Every language was beingspoken, mostly German. As a rule, such a gathering of people was, in itsway, interesting to Hunterleys. To-night his thoughts were truant. Heforgot his strenuous life of the last three months, the dangers anddiscomforts through which he had passed, the curious sequence of eventswhich had brought him, full of anticipation, nerved for a crisis, toMonte Carlo of all places in the world. He forgot that he was in themidst of great events, himself likely to take a hand in them. Histhoughts took, rarely enough for him, a purely personal and sentimentalturn. He thought of the earliest days of his marriage, when he and hiswife had wandered about the gardens of his old home in Wiltshire onspring evenings such as these, and had talked sometimes lightly,sometimes seriously, of the future. Almost as he sat there in the midstof that noisy crowd, he could catch the faint perfume of hyacinths fromthe borders along which they had passed and the trimly-cut flower-bedswhich fringed the deep green lawn. Almost he could hear the chiming ofthe old stable clock, the clear note of a thrush singing. A puff of windbrought them a waft of fainter odour from the wild violets whichcarpeted the woods. Then the darkness crept around them, a star cameout. Hand in hand they turned towards the house and into the library,where a wood fire was burning on the grate. His thoughts travelled on. Awave of tenderness had assailed him. Then he was awakened by thewaiter's voice at his elbow.
"Le cafe, monsieur."
He sat up in his chair. His dreaming moments were few and this one hadpassed. He set his heel upon that tide of weakening memories, sipped hiscoffee and looked out upon the crowd. Three or four times he glanced athis watch impatiently. Precisely at nine o'clock, a man moved fromsomewhere in the throng behind and took the vacant chair by his side.
"If one could trouble monsieur for a match!"
Hunterleys turned towards the newcomer as he handed his matchbox. He wasa young man of medium height, with sandy complexion, a little freckled,and with a straggling fair moustache. He had keen grey eyes and thefaintest trace of a Scotch accent. He edged his chair a little nearer toHunterleys.
"Much obliged," he said. "Wonderful evening, isn't it?"
Hunterleys nodded.
"Have you anything to tell me, David?" he asked.
"We are right in the thick of it," the other replied, his tone a littlelowered. "There is more to tell than I like."
"Shall we stroll along the Terrace?" Hunterleys suggested.
"Don't move from your seat," the young man enjoined. "You are watchedhere, and so am I, in a way, although it's more my news they want tocensor than anything personal. This crowd of Germans around us, withouta single vacant chair, is the best barrier we can have. Listen.Selingman is here."
"I saw him this afternoon at the Sporting Club," Hunterleys murmured.
"Douaille will be here the day after to-morrow, if he has not alreadyarrived," the newcomer continued. "It was given out in Paris that he wasgoing down to Marseilles and from there to Toulon, to spend three dayswith the fleet. They sent a paragraph into our office there. As a matterof fact, he's coming straight on here. I can't learn how, exactly, but Ifancy by motor-car."
"You're sure that Douaille is coming himself?" Hunterleys askedanxiously.
"Absolutely! His wife and family have been bustled down to Mentone, soas to afford a pretext for his presence here if the papers get hold ofit. I have found out for certain that they came at a moment's notice andwere not expecting to leave home at all. Douaille will have full powers,and the conference will take place at the Villa Mimosa. That will be theheadquarters of the whole thing.... Look out, Sir Henry. They've gottheir eyes on us. The little fellow in brown, close behind, is hand inglove with the police. They tried to get me into a row last night. It'sonly my journalism they suspect, but they'd shove me over the frontierat the least excuse. They're certain to try something of the sort withyou, if they get any idea that we are on the scent. Sit tight, sir, andwatch. I'm off. You know where to find me."
The young man raised his hat and left Hunterleys with the politefarewell of a stranger. His seat was almost immediately seized by asmall man dressed in brown, a man with a black imperial and moustachecurled upwards. As Hunterleys glanced towards him, he raised his Hamburghat politely and smiled.
"Monsieur's friend has departed?" he enquired. "This seat isdisengaged?"
"As you see," Hunterleys replied.
The little man smiled his thanks, seated himself with a sigh of contentand ordered coffee from a passing waiter.
"Monsieur is doubtless a stranger to Monte Carlo?"
"It is my second visit only," Hunterleys admitted.
"For myself I am an habitue," the little man continued, "I might almostsay a resident. Therefore, all faces soon become familiar to me.Directly I saw monsieur, I knew that he was not a frequenter."
Hunterleys turned a little in his chair and surveyed his neighbourcuriously. The man was neatly dressed and he spoke English with scarcelyany accent. His shoulders and upturned moustache gave him a militaryappearance.
"There is nothing I envy any one so much in life," he proceeded, "ascoming to Monte Carlo for the first or second time. There is so much toknow, to see, to understand."
Hunterleys made no effort to discourage his companion's obvious attemptsto be friendly. The latter talked with spirit for some time.
"If it would not be regarded as a liberty," he said at last, asHunterleys rose to move off, "may I be permitted to present myself? Myname is Hugot? I am half English, half French. Years ago my health brokedown and I accepted a position in a bank here. Since then I have come into money. If I have a hobby in life, it is to show my beloved MonteCarlo to strangers. If monsieur would do me the honour to spare me a fewhours to-night, later on, I would endeavour to see that he was amused."
Hunterleys shook his head. He remained, however, perfectly courteous. Hehad a conviction that this was the man who had been watching his wife.
"You are very kind, sir," he
replied. "I am here only for a few days andfor the benefit of my health. I dare not risk late hours. We shall meetagain, I trust."
He strolled off and as he hesitated upon the steps of the Casino heglanced across towards the Hotel de Paris. At that moment a woman cameout, a light cloak over her evening gown. She was followed by anattendant. Hunterleys recognised his wife and watched them with acurious little thrill. They turned towards the Terrace. Very slowly he,too, moved in the same direction. They passed through the gardens of theHotel de Paris, and Hunterleys, keeping to the left, met them upon theTerrace as they emerged. As they came near he accosted them.
"Violet," he began.
She started.
"I beg your pardon," she said. "I did not recognise you."
"Haven't you been told," he asked stiffly, "that the Terrace is unsafefor women after twilight?"
"Very often," she assented, with that little smile at the corners of herlips which once he had found so charming and which now half maddenedhim. "Unfortunately, I have a propensity for doing things which aredangerous. Besides, I have my maid."
"Another woman is no protection," he declared.
"Susanne can shriek," Lady Hunterleys assured him. "She has wonderfullungs and she loves to use them. She would shriek at the leastprovocation."
"And meanwhile," Hunterleys observed drily, "while she is indulging inher vocal exercises, things happen. If you wish to promenade here,permit me to be your escort."
She hesitated for a moment, frowning. Then she continued her walk.
"You are very kind," she assented. "Perhaps you are like me, though, andfeel the restfulness of a quiet place after these throngs and throngs ofpeople."
They passed slowly down the broad promenade, deserted now save for oneor two loungers like themselves, and a few other furtive, hurryingfigures. In front of them stretched an arc of glittering lights--thewonderful Bay of Mentone, with Bordighera on the distant sea-board;higher up, the twinkling lights from the villas built on the rockyhills. And at their feet the sea, calm, deep, blue, lapping the narrowbelt of hard sand, scintillating with the reflection of a thousandlights; on the horizon a blood-red moon, only half emerged from the sea.
"Since we have met, Henry," Lady Hunterleys said at last, "there issomething which I should like to say to you."
"Certainly!"
She glanced behind. Susanne had fallen discreetly into the rear. She wasa new importation and she had no idea as to the identity of the tall,severe-looking Englishman who walked by her mistress's side.
"There is something going on in Monte Carlo," Lady Hunterleys went on,"which I cannot understand. Mr. Draconmeyer knows about it, I believe,although he is not personally concerned in it. But he will tell menothing. I only know that for some reason or other your presence hereseems to be an annoyance to certain people. Why it should be I don'tknow, but I want to ask you about it. Will you tell me the truth? Areyou sure that you did not come here to spy upon me?"
"I certainly did not," Hunterleys answered firmly. "I had no idea thatyou were near the place. If I had--"
She turned her head. The smile was there once more and a queer, softlight in her eyes.
"If you had?" she murmured.
"My visit here, under the present circumstances, would have been moredistasteful than it is," Hunterleys replied stiffly.
She bit her lip and turned away. When she resumed the conversation, hertone was completely changed.
"I speak to you now," she said, "in your own interests. Mr. Draconmeyeris, of course, not personally connected with this affair, whatever itmay be, but he is a wonderful man and he hears many things. To-night,before dinner, he gave me a few words of warning. He did not tell me topass them on to you but I feel sure that he hoped I would. You would notlisten to them from him because you do not like him. I am afraid thatyou will take very little more heed of what I say, but at least you willbelieve that I speak in your own interests. Mr. Draconmeyer believesthat your presence here is misunderstood. A person whom he describes asbeing utterly without principle and of great power is incensed by it. Tospeak plainly, you are in danger."
"I am flattered," Hunterleys remarked, "by this interest on my behalf."
She turned her head and looked at him. His face, in this cold lightbefore the moon came up, was almost like the face of some marble statue,lifeless, set, of almost stonelike severity. She knew the look so welland she sighed.
"You need not be," she replied bitterly. "Mine is merely the ordinaryfeeling of one human creature for another. In a sense it seems absurd, Isuppose, to speak to you as I am doing. Yet I do know that this placewhich looks so beautiful has strange undercurrents. People pass awayhere in the most orthodox fashion in the world, outwardly, but theirreal ending is often never known at all. Everything is possible here,and Mr. Draconmeyer honestly believes that you are in danger."
They had reached the end of the Terrace and they turned back.
"I thank you very much, Violet," Hunterleys said earnestly. "In return,may I say something to you? If there is any danger threatening me orthose interests which I guard, the man whom you have chosen to make yourintimate friend is more deeply concerned in it than you think. I toldyou once before that Draconmeyer was something more than the greatbanker, the king of commerce, as he calls himself. He is ambitiousbeyond your imaginings, a schemer in ways you know nothing of, and hisresidence in London during the last fifteen years has been the worstthing that ever happened for England. To me it is a bitter thing thatyou should have ignored my warning and accepted his friendship--"
"It is not Mr. Draconmeyer who is my friend, Henry," she interrupted."You continually ignore that fact. It is Mrs. Draconmeyer whom I cannotdesert. I knew her long before I did her husband. We were at schooltogether, and there was a time before her last illness when we wereinseparable."
"That may have been so at first," Hunterleys agreed, "but how aboutsince then? You cannot deny, Violet, that this man Draconmeyer has insome way impressed or fascinated you. You admire him. You find greatpleasure in his society. Isn't that the truth, now, honestly?"
Her face was a little troubled.
"I do certainly find pleasure in his society," she admitted. "I cannotconceive any one who would not. He is a brilliant, a wonderful musician,a delightful talker, a generous host and companion. He has treated mealways with the most scrupulous regard, and I feel that I am entirelyreasonable in resenting your mistrust of him."
"You do resent it still, then?"
"I do," she asserted emphatically.
"And if I told you," Hunterleys went on, "that the man was in love withyou. What then?"
"I should say that you were a fool!"
Hunterleys shrugged his shoulders.
"There is no more to be said," he declared, "only, for a clever woman,Violet, you are sometimes woefully or wilfully blind. I tell you that Iknow the type. Sooner or later--before very long, I should think--youwill have the usual scene. I warn you of it now. If you are wise, youwill go back to England."
"Absurd!" she scoffed. "Why, we have only just come! I want to win somemoney--not that your allowance isn't liberal enough," she added hastily,"but there is a fascination in winning, you know. And besides, I couldnot possibly desert Mrs. Draconmeyer. She would not have come at all ifI had not joined them."
"You are the mistress of your own ways," Hunterleys said. "According tomy promise, I shall attempt to exercise no authority over you in anyway, but I tell you that Draconmeyer is my enemy, and the enemy of allthe things I represent, and I tell you, too, that he is in love withyou. When you realise that these things are firmly established in mybrain, you can perhaps understand how thoroughly distasteful I find yourassociation with him here. It is all very well to talk about Mrs.Draconmeyer, but she goes nowhere. The consequence is that he is yourescort on every occasion. I am quite aware that a great many people insociety accept him. I personally am not disposed to. I look upon him asan unfit companion for my wife and I resent your appearance with him inpublic."
/> "We will discuss this subject no further," she decided. "From the momentof our first disagreement, it has been your object to break off myfriendship with the Draconmeyers. Until I have something more than wordsto go by, I shall continue to give him my confidence."
They crossed the stone flags in front of the Opera together, and turnedup towards the Rooms.
"I think, perhaps, then," he said, "that we may consider the subjectclosed. Only," he added, "you will forgive me if I still--"
He hesitated. She turned her head quickly. Her eyes sought his butunfortunately he was looking straight ahead and seeing gloomy things. Ifhe had happened to turn at that moment, he might have concluded hisspeech differently.
"If I still exhibit some interest in your doings."
"I shall always think it most kind of you," she replied, her facesuddenly hardening. "Have I not done my best to reciprocate? I have evenpassed on to you a word of warning, which I think you are very unwise toignore."
They were outside the hotel. Hunterleys paused.
"I have nothing to fear from the mysterious source you have spoken of,"he assured her. "The only enemy I have in Monte Carlo is Draconmeyerhimself."
"Enemy!" she repeated scornfully. "Mr. Draconmeyer is much too wrappedup in his finance, and too big a man, in his way, to have enemies. Oh,Henry, if only you could get rid of a few of your prejudices, how muchmore civilised a human being you would be!"
He raised his hat. His expression was a little grim.
"The man without prejudices, my dear Violet," he retorted, "is a manwithout instincts.... I wish you luck."
She ran lightly up the steps and waved her hand. He watched her passthrough the doors into the hotel.