clothing back inits receptacle, and, turning to Gilda, said more restrainedly, "We willgo into the country to-day, and revel in our flowers and trees, our skyand clouds. I am giving you my life. It is yours. My reason tells methat it can only end in trouble. I don't care. Life is only possibleto me when you are around. Now let us hie into the country and `makethe most of what we yet may have to spend, before we, too'--"
Gilda threw herself into his arms and closed his lips with her hands--those clever, skilful hands, clever in crime, yet dainty as the hands ofa queen of beauty. "Don't quote those lines. They make me sad, and Iwant to be so happy with you to-day, Raife. Where shall we go?"
Raife considered for a moment and then said: "It will be running a risk,but I feel like running risks to-day. Let us go to Versailles. Let uswatch all the splendour of those glorious days when men and women werebrave in love and war, and dared to fight for honour."
A pang went through him as he made this last allusion to "honour." Whatwas honour to him now? He had surrendered to a code, that did not countfor honour among his equals, or those even who once might have been hisinferiors. Quick disguise was a part of the craft of the career he hadentered upon. He felt that he was less a buccaneer than a privateer.He was plundering the enemy, less for his personal profit than from thespirit of sheer devilment and adventure. There was no profit to himoutside Gilda's companionship.
On the brightest day of early summer they walked in the gardens of thePalace of Versailles. The most perfect palace of the days when regalprodigality made France at the same time the most luxurious and the mostpoverty-stricken country in Europe, displayed its splendour in the fullflood of warm sunshine. The fountains played and sparkled in a torrentof spray that suggested myriads of tiny precious stones. The air wasperfumed with thousands of blossoms from the ornamental flower beds.The groups of statuary stood in bold relief, here against the warm bluesky or silver cloud, there against a bank of stately trees, rich inluxuriant foliage. Gay throngs of smartly-dressed women and children,mingled with the more sombre-clad men, who promenaded with all "la joiede vivre" that belongs to the Parisian on his own happy hunting ground.
Raife and Gilda, safe in their skilled disguises, mixed with the crowd,and revelled in the beauty and movement around them.
The day of the grand coup was approaching, when the house in the Avenuedes Champs Elysees was to be plundered. This was to be the day whenRaife was to exhibit those qualities of "agility, courage and daring"for which, in the language of Malsano's insidious flattery, hiscountrymen were famous. Both Raife and Gilda felt that their nextadventure was fraught with danger, and Raife had consented that Gilda onthis occasion should assist in the operations. They therefore made themost of this joyous day at Versailles. It was evening when they decidedto seek one of the more obscure little cabarets for their dinner. Theywere sauntering down an avenue with the long line of trees throwingshadows across the close-cropped grass, when a motor-car passed slowlyby in the heavy rows of traffic. Raife looked at the occupant andrecognised the Baroness von Sassniltz, his mother's friend, whose jewelsGilda almost succeeded in stealing from the safe in the library atAldborough Park. The baroness looked hard at Raife, but apparently didnot see through his disguise.
The conflict of emotions which had disturbed him during the night andmorning were now renewed. Gilda did not notice the car which carriedthe Baroness von Sassniltz, but, with the intuition of a lover, she didnotice that Raife's manner had drifted into an abstracted mood. He wasthinking of his own anomalous position. He was worshipping at theshrine of a woman, whom he had detected in the act of "burgling" thejewels of his mother's friend. This took place in his own house, andnot only had he allowed her to escape, but he was here to-day with herexpecting to participate with her in a crime of a similar nature. Thesituation was hideous, and all the glory of the day in Versailles haddeparted.
They walked along in silence for a while, until a passing taxicabarrested his attention, and he responded to the interrogative look ofthe driver by hailing it. They entered the taxi, and in response to thedriver's query, "Where shall I drive, monsieur?" he said: "Drive to thecabaret of `Le Sans Souci,' at the end of the avenue, then to the leftand about three miles along the main road. You will see it by a groupof poplars, with a garden and a small lake in front."
They had been to this little inn before, many times, and theblue-skirted and white-aproned old landlady was accustomed to theirvisits, and understood not only their simple requirements, but theirdesire for quietude. They sat in the simple, clean little room, withits dainty curtains, white napery and shining cutlery. The old ladyfussed around for a while, chatting gaily, as is the wont of Frenchlandladies, whilst the bouillabaisse, cutlets, and superlative omelettewere being prepared.
An old punt lay moored at the foot of some moss-covered steps leading tothe lake. Pond lilies and chickweed covered the surface of the shallowsthat led from the steps to the deeper waters, which flickered in themoonlight. Clumps of willows and ash threw their shadows and reflectedin the silent pool. Raife took the pole of this ancient, dilapidatedpunt and steered Gilda, who sat on a narrow seat of rough wood thatconstituted the only seat. Her neat, grey costume, rich in material butunobtrusive, contrasted with the ashen grey-greens of the oldroughly-hewn punt. Thus, he standing up piloting the strange craft,took her over the warm waters, until reaching a deep pool which his polefailed to fathom they came to a rest. Here and there a ghostly bat,after the manner of a miniature vampire, flickered through the air,chasing the lesser night insects whose hum harmonised with the rest ofthat which was silence.
It was sylvan and, to an extent, idyllic, but it is dangerous to beassociated with crime. The convert to crime, religion or politics, isever the more impressionable, and his actions are liable to outstrip theprudence of those who have inherited the traditions of their creed. Thegloom of the situation and the memory of his lost hopes and ambitionsattacked Raife, and, in a despairing mood, he perceived the ease withwhich all could be ended by a quick death in this silent pool. He andGilda together could complete the tragedy of their lives. He had nodoubt that she would consent to suicide, but why should he consult herin the matter? To overturn the punt would be easy, for it was a crazyold craft, and thus, entwined, they would sink to the depths, tooblivion.
A voice came across the water. It travelled clearly, as sound willtravel across still water on a quiet night. "Monsieur, votre diner!C'est servi!" It was a cheery, pleasant voice, and it announced thatdinner was served.
Neither seemed to hear the call. Gilda was in one off her trance moods,and Raife was contemplating his last crime. Again the voice floatedover the lake. "Sir, your dinner is served." Raife awakened from hisown trance and leisurely paddled the punt from the deep pool to shallowwater. From the depths of his determination to the shallows of thecommonplace he was aroused by the old landlady of the cabaret, who wascalling him back to life. His resonant voice responded, as he poled thepunt vigorously to the moss and lichen-covered steps. "Eh bien, madame,nous arriverons au moment." His voice was quite cheery now, and hehailed her again. "All right, we shall be there in a moment." Hemoored the punt to the rusty iron ring attached to the steps. Gildaseemed to be still in a trance mood. Raife answered the old lady'spleasant railleries. The taxi-driver, who had been ordered to wait,peeped into the room unobserved from the kitchen. His wants had beenserved. To himself he reflected: "Queer couple. They're handsomeenough, but there's some trouble, I wager."
Dinner was served, and death was forgotten.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
SIR RAIFE REMINGTON, BARONET AND BURGLAR.
The joy day of Versailles and all the phantom pleasures had passed.There was only one thing which confronted the gang. It was a momentousoccasion. Raife had sold his soul, his very being, and a crime was tobe committed. He was to take the leading part--although he did notreally realise it--in the burglary in the Avenue des Champs Elysees.They were sitting in the flat in the Rue L
afayette. Gilda was at thepiano. Raife was reading some English newspapers. Malsano was present,and Denoir occupied a chair. To-morrow was the day, or rather thenight, that had been decided upon for the great event. To-morrow Raifewas to descend to the depths of complete crime. It was idiotic. Therewas no reason for this thing; but he was impelled by a super-dominantfate, which led him to a doom that he could not avoid. They talkedtogether and discussed all the details of the affair.
Gilda left the piano and sat silently in a chair. Her mind was not herown. Simply obedient to the will of Malsano, she sat there and lookedat Raife, the one person who could carry her from the throes of herpresent situation. Raife was inert. He, in turn, was influenced by theenvironment that had dragged him down from a high position to that of acommon criminal. Malsano