If Sinners Entice Thee

went to England."

  "And Liane? What of her?" he inquired, dismayed that the man he hadheld in high esteem as a good-hearted, easy-going fellow should actuallyturn out to be an adventurer.

  "Ah! she has led a strange life," sighed the handsome Frenchwoman. "Ihave seen her many times, but have seldom spoken much with her. I oftenmet her father in the days of his success, but he for some reasonavoided introducing me. Although the circle in which Erle Brooker movedwas usually composed of thieves, adventuresses, and the scum of thegambling-hells, he held his daughter aloof from it all. He would neverpermit her to mix with any of his companions, appearing to entertain acurious suspicion towards even respectable folk, fearing lest she shouldbecome contaminated by the world's wickedness. Thus," she added, "Lianeand her companion Nelly grew to be sweet and altogether ingenuous girls,who were everywhere respected and admired."

  There was a short pause, during which he pondered deeply over the factshis strange visitor had explained. The truth was out at last. Lianewas the daughter of an adventurer. He recollected how well she had beendressed when he had met her on the terrace at Monte Carlo, and reflectedthat her father must be again winning. The reason why she had compelledhim to leave her that afternoon, why she had always preserved such areticence regarding her past life, was now entirely plain. She did notwish that he should know the truth.

  "You said that you called in Liane's interests," he observed, presently,glancing at her with earnestness. "How?"

  "What are her interests are yours; are they not?" she asked.

  "Certainly."

  "You love her?"

  He smiled at the abruptness of her question. She was leaning back,regarding him with her keen, dark eyes, and holding her cigarettedaintily between her bejewelled fingers.

  "She has promised to become my wife," he answered.

  A strange look crossed her features. There was something of surprisemingled with anger; but in an instant she hid it beneath a calm,sphinx-like expression.

  "I fear she will never marry you," she said, with a sigh.

  "Why?"

  "Because of her engagement to the Prince d'Auzac."

  "I care nothing for that," he cried, in anger at mention of his rival'sname. "We love each other, and will marry."

  "Such a course is impossible," she answered, in a deep impressive voice."It would be far better if you returned to London--better for youboth--for she cannot marry you."

  "Why?" he demanded. He suddenly recollected that from this mysteriouswoman who knew so much of their personal affairs he might obtainknowledge of the secret his well-beloved had refused to disclose. "Whycannot she abandon him, and marry the man she loves?"

  "There is a secret reason," his visitor replied. "She dare not."

  "Are you aware of the reason?" he demanded, quickly.

  "I can guess. If it is as I suspect, then marriage with you is entirelyout of the question. She must marry Zertho."

  "Because she is in fear of him?" he hazarded.

  She shrugged her shoulders with that vivacity which only Frenchwomenpossess, but no reply left her lips.

  "From what does her strange fear arise?" he asked, bending towards herin his eagerness to learn the truth.

  "An overwhelming terror holds her to Zertho. It is a bond which,although he may be hateful to her, as undoubtedly he is, she cannotbreak. She must become Princess d'Auzac."

  "She fears lest he should expose some hidden secret of her past?" hesuggested.

  "I don't say that," she answered. "Remember I have only suspicions.Nevertheless, from whatever cause arises her terrible dread its resultis the same--it prevents her from becoming your wife."

  "Yes," he admitted, plunged in gloomy reflections. "It does. I havecome out here from London to see her, but she will tell me nothingbeyond the fact that she is betrothed to this man, Zertho d'Auzac. Atfirst I believed that the attractions of wealth had proved too strongfor her to resist; but your words, in combination with hers, are proofpositive that there is some strange, dark secret underlying herengagement to him."

  "He has forced her to it," his fair visitor said in a harsh voice."He's absolutely unscrupulous."

  "You know him?"

  "Yes," she answered, with a slight hesitancy. "His career has been acurious one. Not long ago he was a fellow-adventurer with CaptainBrooker, and well-known in all the gaming-houses in Europe--at MonteCarlo, Spa, Ostend, Namur, and Dinant--as one who lived by exercisinghis superior intelligence over his fellow-men. He was an `escroc'--onewho lived by his wits, won money at the tables, and when luck wasagainst him did not hesitate to descend to card-sharping in order tosecure funds. He was the black sheep of a noble family, an outcast, acheat and a swindler," she went on with a volubility that surprised him."He possessed all Erle Brooker's shrewdness without any of his goodqualities; for, although the Captain may be an adventurer he has neverstooped to meanness. He has always lost and won honourably, regardinghis luck, good or ill, with the same imperturbable grim humour andreckless indifference. In the days of his prosperity his hand was everin his pocket to assist his fellow-gamesters upon whom Misfortune hadlaid a heavy hand, and more than one young man, drawn to the tables bythe hope of winning, has been held back from ruin by his kindly andtimely advice. The one was, and is still, a dishonest, despicableknave; while the other was a man of honour, truth and singleness ofheart. Suddenly, not long ago, the fortunes of Zertho d'Auzac changed,for his father died and he found himself possessor of a truly princelyincome and estates. He left the gaming-tables, burned the packs ofcards with which he had fleeced so many unsuspecting ones, and returnedto Luxembourg to claim his possessions. Since then he has led a life ofease and idleness; yet he is still now, as he ever was, vicious,recreant, and utterly unprincipled."

  "And to this man Liane is bound?"

  "Yes," she sighed. "Irrevocably, I fear; unless she can discover somemeans whereby to hold him at defiance."

  "But she must. I would rather see her dead than the wife of such aman," he cried.

  She remained silent for some minutes. Her cigarette had gone out andshe tossed it away. At last she turned to him, exclaiming,--

  "Towards her release I am striving. I want your assistance."

  "I will render you every help in my power," he answered eagerly. "Whatcan I do?"

  "First," she said, glancing at him curiously through her half-raisedveil, "first describe to me in detail the whole of the circumstances inwhich poor Nelly Bridson was killed."

  "What!" he exclaimed quickly. "Has her fear any connection with thattragic incident?"

  In an instant he remembered the finding of a hairpin near the spot, apin which had been proved conclusively not to belong to the murderedgirl.

  "I know it was you who discovered the body," she went on, disregardinghis inquiry. "Tell me the whole of the sad affair as far as yourknowledge extends. I have, of course, read the accounts of the inquestwhich appeared in the papers at the time, but I am anxious to ascertainsome further details."

  "Of what nature?"

  "I want you to tell me, if you will," she replied with an interestedlook, "the exact position of the body when you discovered it."

  Her question brought to his memory his ghastly discovery in all itshideousness. There arose before his vision the blanched upturned faceof the girl prostrate in the dust, the fallen cycle, and the white,deserted English lane, silent and gloomy in the evening mist.

  "Why do you desire me to recall an event so painful?" he asked in a calmtone.

  "Because it is necessary that you should tell me exactly how youdiscovered her," she replied. "You had an appointment with Liane atthat very spot on that same evening, had you not?"

  "Yes," he answered. "I was, unfortunately, late in keeping it, and rodeto the railway bridge at full gallop, expecting to find her stillwaiting, but instead, found Nelly dead."

  "She was lying in the centre of the road?"

  "Almost. But a little to the right," he answered. "
The road passingbeneath the railway takes an abrupt but short incline just where I foundher. She was evidently mounting the hill on her cycle when she was shotdown."

  "Tell me exactly how you discovered her, and how you acted immediatelyafterwards," she urged. "Begin at the beginning, and tell me all. Itmay be that you can assist me in releasing Liane from her bondage."

  Her words puzzled him, nevertheless, in obedience to her wish, herelated in their proper sequence each of the events of that memorableevening; how he had made the appalling discovery, how he