The Temptress

by William Le Queux

blowing a cloudof smoke from his lips, and regarding her with a happy and somewhatamused expression.

  Blushing, and dropping her eyes to the floor, she began to pick at herskirt.

  "I hope you'll not be angry with me, and also that you'll keep my visita secret," she said at last, with a little demure droop in the cornersof her mouth, and just a suspicion of _diablerie_ in her eye. "I wantto tell you of some one with whom you are acquainted."

  "Who?"

  "Mademoiselle Dedieu."

  He smiled, contemplating the end of his cigar.

  "Ah, I have heard all about your infatuation," she continued seriously;"but, I suppose I must not reproach you, inasmuch as I have no right todo so," and she sighed.

  "You have always been one of my dearest friends, Dolly," he remarkedwarmly; "and I hope you will continue so, even though I have promised tomarry Valerie Dedieu."

  "You--you have promised to be her husband?" she gasped in dismay.

  "Yes. Why, surely you, too, are not going to defame her?" he exclaimedin astonishment. "Come, tell me what you know concerning her."

  "Personally, I know nothing," she answered in an earnest tone, "but asyour friend--as one who has your interests at heart, I would urge you toheed the warning you have already received. Has not Mr. Egerton toldyou that she is not a fit woman to be your wife?"

  "He certainly did say something once, in a vague sort of way."

  "Why then do you not take his advice?"

  "You do not know us, Dolly," he replied, looking straight into her eyes."In matters of love we men usually follow our own course, whether itleads us to happiness or to woe."

  "That is exactly why I came here to-day," she said anxiously. "I wantedto tell you what Mr. Egerton says of her."

  "What does he say?"

  "Promise not to repeat anything I tell you."

  "Upon my honour, I will not," he declared.

  "A few days ago we were speaking of her, and he told me of youradmiration and love. He said that if you knew the truth you would hateher like poison--that she had brought a curse upon others, and she wouldbring unhappiness and ruin upon you."

  Hugh gazed thoughtfully into the fire.

  "And you have come to tell me that, little one?" he remarkedreflectively.

  "Yes, I want to save you," was the earnest, naive reply.

  "To save me," he echoed, with a smile. "Why, any one would think I wasin danger of going by the express route across Styx."

  "I mean," she faltered, a trifle embarrassed,--"I mean that Mr. Egertonknows more of her past than you. I feel sure he does, for she came tosee him the other day, and they talked very excitedly. I was not in theroom, of course, but--"

  "Valerie at the studio! Why did she go?" he inquired, astonished.

  "I don't know, but I heard her say she would pay him another visitto-day and hear his answer, so I presume he has to decide upon somematter upon which she is pressing him."

  "To-day! She may be there now!" he cried, jumping to his feet withsudden impulse.

  "Yes, most probably. She came the other day about four o'clock."

  "Then I will go and demand an explanation," said he briefly, and,opening the door, he shouted to Jacob to call a cab.

  Rather unceremoniously he hurried on his fair companion's cloak, and,getting into his own overcoat, they both descended to the street.

  In a few minutes they were driving in the direction of Fitzroy Square,leaving old Jacob standing on the kerb in astonishment at his master'ssudden flight in company with the strange lady.

  The pretty model's words had caused Hugh to become thoughtful andmorose. His face wore a dark, resolute expression, and he scarcelyuttered a word during the journey.

  Dolly Vivian regarded him as her friend. She had accomplished herobject and felt satisfied.

  In Tottenham Court Road he stopped the cab, and she alighted, so thatthey should not both arrive at Fitzroy Square together.

  A few minutes afterwards he got out and rang the bell.

  Walking unceremoniously past Mrs. O'Shea, the aged housekeeper, heentered the studio unannounced.

  Jack and Valerie were seated upon a low divan before the fire. He washolding her slim hand in his, and was uttering some low, passionatewords. As the door opened their _tete-a-tete_ was abruptly terminated,for the artist jumped to his feet, while she turned to face theintruder.

  "I--I really must apologise for coming in without knocking," Hughexclaimed roughly. "I didn't know you were engaged, old fellow," headded sarcastically.

  "You! Hugh!" she cried, with a blush suffusing her cheeks.

  "What, Valerie!" said Trethowen, laughing dryly. "I really didn'trecognise you in the shadow. I'm sorry if I interrupted what must havebeen a pleasant conversation."

  "Not at all, old boy," Egerton answered airily. "Mademoiselle Valeriemerely called to have a chat."

  Hugh's brow darkened.

  "I think, as my affianced wife, Valerie owes me a full explanation ofthis mysterious visit," he said angrily.

  "There's little to explain," she replied. "I merely called to consultMr. Egerton, who is an old friend, with regard to a portrait I desirepainted."

  He endeavoured to preserve a calm disinterested demeanour, but theattempt was a sorry one. Prompted by feelings of jealousy, he gave ventto his wrath.

  "Your position when I entered was peculiarly affectionate," he saidhotly.

  He glanced at her, and caught the agitated expression of her face as shestood erect before him. Her eyes had a perplexed look, with just asuspicion of tears in their brown depths.

  "No affection exists between us, I assure you," she declared boldly."If you doubt me, ask Mr. Egerton. He and I are merely friends."

  Turning to the artist, Hugh asked--

  "What have you to say, Jack?"

  "I decline to be cross-examined," was the abrupt reply.

  "Speak, and satisfy him!" urged Valerie imploringly. "Tell him if thereis any love between us." She frowned, and, unseen by Trethowen, darteda sharp, imperative glance at him.

  He fully comprehended her meaning. Raising his head, he confronted hisfriend, saying--

  "You need have no fear. Valerie and I have known one another for years,but only as acquaintances."

  He uttered the words mechanically, in strained, harsh tones.

  "I don't believe it," cried the other, his face crimson with anger."You are both playing me false, and I have detected you."

  "You are mistaken," Valerie said defiantly.

  "No; I assert it as the truth. The whole affair is so unsatisfactorythat I will not believe it. Friends do not meet clandestinely in thismanner. You are lovers!"

  "It's a lie," cried Valerie emphatically.

  "I repeat what I've said."

  "Then, if you accuse me of duplicity, Mr. Trethowen, I will bid youadieu," she exclaimed severely, at the same time offering her hand.

  He took it, and was mollified instantly.

  Bending over it, he murmured--

  "Farewell, mademoiselle, until--until you can prove that I was mistaken.We shall not meet till then." For a moment she gazed steadily at theartist, but he did not stir. He stood with his arms folded, his faceimpassive.

  Slowly she turned, and with a stiff bow swept haughtily out of thestudio.

  "Now," commenced Hugh, when the door had closed, "what explanation haveyou to give of this strange conduct, pray?"

  "None."

  "That does not satisfy me."

  "My dear old fellow," exclaimed Jack, stretching out his hand, "you--youunderstand; I cannot--I'm unable to give any."

  "Why?"

  "Because it is impossible."

  "Do you love her?" asked Hugh fiercely.

  "Love her!" the other echoed, with a short laugh. "I swear to you, uponmy oath, I hate her! Have I not already long ago expressed my opinion?"

  "Is that still unchanged?"

  "Quite--intensified rather than moderated."

  "Well, perhaps I ha
ve been a trifle too hasty, Jack. It seems that youknow much of her past. Tell me, what was the object of your interview?"

  He was silent. Presently he said--

  "Hugh, you are an old friend, and I wish I were at liberty to tell you,but I regret I am not. Request no explanation, and rest assured thatValerie and myself are not lovers, and, further, that we never were."

  "Are you aware that Valerie and my late brother were acquainted?"Trethowen asked suddenly.

  "How did you discover that?" exclaimed the artist in astonishment.

  "Then you appear to know that she was a friend of his," remarked Hughdryly.

  "No; I--it's the first I've heard of it. Who told you?"

  "I want to know whether it's a fact or not," persisted his friend.

  "I don't know," he replied sullenly.

  "You mean, you positively refuse to tell me?"

  "No; it is inability."

  The two men continued their conversation for a short time longer, thenHugh left and returned to his chambers, not, however, before the warmfriendship which had previously existed between them had been resumed.

  That evening Jacob handed his master a telegram from Valerie. She hadevidently made a sudden resolve, and had lost no time in carrying itinto effect, for the message read--

  "_As you appear to doubt my explanation I have decided to leave Englandfor the present. If you desire to write, a letter to 46, Avenue de laToison d'Or, Brussels, will always find me_."

  With a prolonged whistle he sank into his chair, staring aimlessly atthe indistinct words on the pink paper which he held between hisfingers.

  He was half inclined to believe he had misjudged her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

  ON CORNISH CLIFFS.

  "Let us return now, Mr. Trethowen. The night is chilly, and, besides,if we are too long, Jack--I mean Mr. Egerton--will suspect us ofwhispering sweet nothings."

  "And if he does, surely there's no harm, Dolly? He's not jealous ofyou, he--I mean, it isn't as if you were engaged to him."

  "No, that is so," she replied; "he is such a prosaic old bachelor. Why,I assure you that ever since I have known him he's never hinted at love.I am his model, his friend--that is all."

  "Do you know," Trethowen said, after a few moments' reflection, "I'veoften wondered, Dolly, how it is you have not married him."

  "Why should he marry me?" she asked in surprise. "I'm only an artist'smodel, a woman who is looked down upon by fastidious prudes asimmodest--yet the same women admire the pictures when in the galleries,and--"

  "But supposing he loved you?"

  She shook her head.

  "He does not," she answered. "We are both Bohemians, and have manytastes in common. We found our ideas were similar years ago, when hewas struggling for an existence in an attic and I was almost starving.Since that time to the present we have, in a pecuniary sense, shared oneanother's lot. If I became his wife it is possible neither of us wouldbe so happy as we are."

  But he only laughed, and said--

  "He'll ask you one day, and then perhaps you won't refuse."

  "Don't be absurd," she protested, with a smile. "I am quite content asI am."

  Nevertheless, she heaved a slight sigh, and it was evident it wasscarcely the truth she spoke.

  Dolly Vivian had walked with him from the Hall to the outskirts of Bude,and they were now resting beside an old railing which protected thefootpath along the edge of the high cliff.

  The night was perfect. The light of the April moon flooded the valleys,illuminated the hilltops, and trailed along the plains of Cornish grassland in uninterrupted streams. The pale grey sea and pale grey sky weretinged with a faint blue; a few stars shone dimly here and there; thewhole horizon was wrapped in mist, which took a tint of saffron-pinkunder the moon's rim, and was slightly darkened where sea and skyconverged. There was utter silence, a stillness that was complete andabsolute, as if every one in the world had died, and even the waveslapping the beach below scarcely whispered.

  They stood together, their faces turned towards the scattered glimmeringlights of Bude.

  A fortnight ago, Hugh, holding out prospects of good sketching, hadprevailed upon Jack to visit him, and at the same time had invitedDolly. They had spent a pleasant couple of weeks together, and this wastheir last evening; for Egerton had an appointment with a lady, who hadcommissioned him to paint her portrait, and it was imperative that heshould leave for London on the morrow. He had pleaded that hiscorrespondence demanded attention, and thus it was that Dolly and Hughhad gone for a short ramble after dinner, leaving the artist writing inthe library.

  The pair had been silent for several minutes, entranced by the charm ofthe moonlit scene. Hugh had grown grave and thoughtful, for hiscompanion's emphatic protest puzzled him.

  "Ah, well," he exclaimed, at length, "I suppose sooner or later all ofus will be married and settled, as the old ladies say."

  "You are speaking of yourself," she remarked mischievously.

  "No--I spoke collectively. Marriage or burial will be the lot of all ofus--some sooner, some later."

  "Ah," she exclaimed, as if suddenly recollecting, "you have not spokenof Mademoiselle Valerie. How is she? Do you often hear from her?"

  "I had a letter a month ago. She was still in Brussels, and apparentlyin good health."

  "She has been absent some time now. When do you intend seeing her?"

  "Soon--in a few days perhaps."

  "A few days," she repeated thoughtfully. "Is she returning to London?"

  "No; I have decided to travel back with you to-morrow, and then go on toBelgium."

  "You haven't forgotten her, then?" she said in a strained, reproachfultone.

  "Forgotten her!" he exclaimed. "Why should I?"

  "It would be best," was the brief reply.

  The thought occurred to him that she loved him, and that jealousy hadprompted her to utter that remark.

  "Why?" he inquired, rather sharply.

  "Mr. Trethowen--Hugh, hear me," she said imploringly, laying her handupon his arm. "My friendship is as sincere towards you as towards Mr.Egerton, but I cannot help telling you frankly what I think."

  "Well, and what are those fearful apprehensions of yours, Dolly?" heasked, regarding her with an amused expression.

  "Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but I somehow feel confident thatthis foreign woman will bring you only sorrow and misery."

  "That's cheering," he remarked in his usual light and airy manner.

  "Think seriously, and you will find I have some cause for apprehension,"she continued in earnest tones. "Remember Jack, your friend, has warnedyou. He has told you that she is not a fitting wife for you. Besides,are you not convinced that there is some strange secret tie betweenthem?"

  "You are right, Dolly. It is an enigma I cannot solve. Sometimes Ihave even thought that he is afraid of her," Hugh said gravely.

  "I feel sure he is. When she visited him on the first occasion they hadhigh words, and though I could not understand, because they spoke inFrench, yet I'm absolutely certain she was threatening him."

  "It's very curious," he remarked, after a pause.

  He was a trifle annoyed that she should have approached such a delicatematter so bluntly, although he was convinced more than ever that thewoman who was speaking thus loved him.

  "Why go to her? Why not remain here amid these lovely surroundings andtry to forget her?" the girl suggested.

  "Impossible! I love her, and will not hear her disparaged," he replied,with more impatience than politeness, as he took a cigarette from hiscase and lit it. "Don't speak again upon the subject, please; we shallnever agree. Come, let's turn back."

  Murmuring an apology, she drew herself up from her leaning position uponthe low rail, and together they pursued their way in silence along thelonely path. As they walked, a cheerful freshness was in the air. Thewind was hardly perceptible, because it blew off the shore and was lostin passing through the wood whos
e solemn shadows crowned the cliffside.

  But while this exchange of confidence was in progress, Jack Egerton'sactions, viewed by even a casual observer, would have appeared strange.

  As soon as Dolly and his host had departed, he rose from thewriting-table, and, flinging himself into a chair before the fire,abandoned himself to reflections that appeared particularly gloomy. Hesat almost motionless for fully half an hour, when Jacob entered with aletter.

  "Whom is it for?" asked the artist.

  "For the master, sir," replied the old man, placing it upon the table,and retiring.

  From where he sat, Egerton noticed a foreign stamp upon the envelope.He rose, and took it in his hand. A glance sufficed to tell it was fromValerie.

  He turned it over and over, reading and re-reading the superscription.

  "I wonder," he said aloud, "whether it contains anything of interest?"

  Then he turned towards the fire. There was a small copper kettle uponit, which had been ordered by Hugh to be brought up so that they mightbrew warm whisky. From the spout steam was issuing.

  "Am I such a low, mean spy that I should contemplate opening my