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The Temptress

Page 24

by William Le Queux

you, that's all."

  "You! _Sapristi_! Surely I'm my own mistress; therefore, do you thinkit probable that I should ever return to be the tool of a miserablecardsharper? No; I left you in the hope that I should never look uponyour hateful face again, and if you think it possible that we could everbury the past and become reconciled, I can at once disabuse your mind.If I were a sentimental schoolgirl it might be different, but I thinkyou'll find me too clever for you this time," she said indignantly.

  "Don't anticipate that I desire a reconciliation," he remarked in anindifferent tone. "Valerie Duvauchel--or whatever you now callyourself--is too well-known to be a desirable companion for long--"

  "You need say no more," she cried in anger. "I understand. You want meagain to entice men to their ruin. It is true that I am your wife. Icurse the day when I took the idiotic step of marrying you, but I tellyou once and for all that I'll never return to you."

  "You shall," he cried, grasping her roughly by the wrist. "You shall--I'll compel you By heaven! I will!"

  There was a look in his eyes that she did not like. She was cowed for afew moments, but her timidity was not of long duration.

  "I defy you!" she screamed. "Do your worst. I'm perfectly able todefend myself."

  "Then perhaps you'll defend yourself when you are arrested for thelittle affair at Carqueiranne. There's a warrant still out, and areward offered for your apprehension--remember that."

  In a moment she became confused, and her physiognomy, usually so lively,lost all its lightning glances. Her whole person seemed influenced bythis unexpected and embarrassing announcement.

  "Ah, I see!" she said in a husky voice. "Those are your tactics, arethey? You would give me up to the police? Nevertheless, if you have nolove for me, as you assert, why should you desire me to return to you?"

  "I know my own business best," was the abrupt reply.

  "That I don't doubt; yet you admit that it is best for us to be apart,although you are inclined to resort to the extremity of which youspeak."

  "Who are the men staying here?" he asked sharply. "Friends."

  "Not very desirable ones, eh? I fancy I've met Victor Berard somewherebefore. If my memory doesn't fail me it was in Paris only shortlybefore the affair of the Boulevard--"

  "Enough," she said hoarsely, for she understood that he knew of heralliance with the pair. "What does it matter to you who my associatesare? We both have to seek our fortunes."

  "True, but I like to look after my wife's welfare," declared he, with asarcastic smile.

  Captain Percy Willoughby was a jovial ne'er-do-weel who smiled at hislot, and gave himself up to it heedlessly. Weariness, anxiety,neediness took no hold upon him, and when a gloomy thought came to him,he would turn away his head, snap his fingers, and, raising his rightarm towards heaven in caricature of a Spanish dancer, send hismelancholy over his shoulder.

  "I can do without your attentions, although I'm prepared to negotiatewith you upon fair terms," she exclaimed, for she saw that it was onlyby skilful diplomacy that she could extricate herself from the uglysituation.

  "What do you mean?" asked he in surprise.

  "Business purely," she replied calmly. "It was unfortunate that Imarried you, still there is no reason why the world should know it; and,moreover, as there is no affection between us, I am willing to pay youto release me from my bond."

  Willoughby knit his brows thoughtfully. He was not prepared for such abold proposal.

  "You have some scheme of your own in hand, I suppose?"

  "That's my business."

  "Well, how much are you willing to pay?" he asked, smiling at hersuggestion.

  "Twenty-five thousand francs--not a centime more. For that sum Irequire a written undertaking that you'll commence a suit for divorceagainst me forthwith. You understand?"

  She recognised that if she failed to conciliate her husband's demandsall her schemes would be irretrievably ruined, but her tact at suchmoments never deserted her, and she was determined that he should notlevy blackmail upon her without strengthening her position thereby.

  "You hesitate," she continued. "Why, the whole thing is simple enough.I will supply you with evidence and witnesses, and upon the day thedecree is pronounced the money shall be yours."

  "You must have some good fortune. Where will you get the money from?"asked he incredulously.

  "What does that matter, as long as you have it? We shall then both befree."

  "What guarantee shall I have that you will pay me after I have obtainedthe divorce?"

  "I will give you a written one if you desire it, so that if I departfrom my word you will still possess power over me," she explained,beating an impatient tattoo upon the carpet with her tiny slipper.

  "Twenty-five thousand francs," he repeated. "You want me to sell youyour liberty for that, do you?"

  "Yes, if it pleases you to put it in that way." Then, with an air ofunconcern, she added: "I merely suggest a bargain which you can eitheraccept or reject. After all, it is, perhaps, immaterial."

  "Your freedom must be worth a good deal to you if you are prepared topay that price for it," her husband observed shrewdly.

  "I desire to sever the tie, that's all."

  "You enjoy perfect liberty," remarked the captain. "What more can youdesire?"

  "I cannot marry."

  "Is that your intention?" he inquired, half convinced that this was thereal cause of her conciliatory attitude.

  "I really don't know," she answered unconcernedly. "Yet, even if I did,what would it matter if we were legally separated? You could marryalso."

  The captain was a polished rogue, and fully alive to the fertility ofhis wife's skilful devices. He knew she possessed an inexhaustible,imperturbable confidence, and was wondering what could be the characterof the plan she was evidently bent upon carrying into effect. Twistinghis moustache thoughtfully, he kept his keen eyes fixed upon her.

  "I don't feel inclined to accept your remarkable suggestion," heobserved at length. "You're a clever woman, Valerie, and you neverforget to act in your own interests."

  "Who but a fool does?" she laughed. His refusal was disappointing,nevertheless she preserved her calm demeanour, and, shrugging hershoulders indifferently, exclaimed: "Very well, I don't wish to pressthe matter. I shall merely refuse to return to you, whether you obtainthe divorce or not. Surely twenty-five thousand francs and your lawexpenses would serve as a panacea to heal your broken heart. However,if you won't accept it, you'll be that much the poorer."

  "Well, even supposing I desired to do it, I should be unable."

  "Why?"

  "Because I've no money with which to commence the suit."

  "Oh, that obstacle is easily removed," she declared, diving into herpocket, and producing a well-filled purse, which bulged out with papermoney she had won on the previous night.

  Selecting three notes of 200 francs each she offered them to him,saying--

  "These will be sufficient to start operations with. When that isexhausted telegraph for more, and you shall have it."

  The gamester's impecuniosity caused him to regard the proffered noteswith covetous eye. After all, he reflected, it would be an easy andprofitable way of earning a good round sum. The prospect of beingdivorced from this beautiful yet heartless woman was not at alldisagreeable. He might even make a rich marriage himself.

  This latter reflection impressed itself upon his mind.

  "Our marriage was a dismal failure--a miserable mistake. We hate oneanother heartily; therefore I'm willing to pay handsomely for theservice you can render me. As we were married in London, you will haveto return there and commence the suit," she said.

  Willoughby was still undecided, but at length the temptation proved toogreat.

  "Well, I suppose I must," he said, as he thrust the notes into hispocket after some further argument. "But won't you give me more? Toyou a divorce is worth double."

  "No, not another sou. You can take it or leave
it."

  He saw that to endeavour to obtain more would be futile.

  "It's agreed," he said, at last. "I'll sell you your liberty fortwenty-five thousand francs."

  "Ah! I thought you wouldn't refuse my munificent offer," she observed,with a light laugh.

  Rising and walking to a side-table whereon were writing materials, shepenned the following lines in French, in a fine angular hand:--

  "I, Valerie Willoughby, agree to pay Percy Willoughby the sum of

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