The Temptress

by William Le Queux

turnedfuriously upon Gabrielle, and poured forth a torrent of abuse.

  But she exposed herself to terrible reprisals.

  Mdlle. Debriege was not a woman to be cowed by the vindictive insultsheaped upon her. She had nourished a natural and bitter hatred againstthis woman who had robbed her of her husband, and now the opportunityfor revenge had come she did not fail to take advantage of it.

  In plain, pointed words she addressed her, without sparing one cause ofcomplaint or a single reproach, and in their full hideousness casting inher teeth the enormity of her sins. She repaid with interest in thatmoment all the countless sufferings the guilty woman had caused,completely overwhelming her with vituperation. Valerie heard her outwith but little interruption, and when at length Gabrielle concluded,there was a moment's silence.

  "Now, madame," exclaimed Hugh sternly, addressing his wife, "we will endthis our last interview, for you and I will never meet again. From thebottom of my heart I hate you, hoping that a just retribution will beyours. When it comes, you will probably recollect the words of a manwho loved you dearer than his life. Coombe never before gave shelter toa murderess, and it shall do so no longer. The hour is late, thereforeI will grant you until to-morrow, but if you have not left here bymidday I shall call in the police and give you up to justice. Youunderstand--I shall not depart from my word. The tie which bound us hasbeen broken, and I curse the day when I was so blindly infatuated as tolink my life with yours."

  "Hugh! Hugh! I--I am penitent. Have pity."

  "You had none for me. I have none."

  "Hugh! Forgive!"

  "Never!"

  As he turned from her, Egerton unlocked the door, and in silence theywent out, while the unhappy woman tottered forward, and in despair castherself upon the couch, burying her face in the silken cushions.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

  DEVIL'S DICE.

  Alone in her dainty little boudoir, Valerie was standing deep inthought.

  In the ballroom, the excited revellers continued their antics, and thefair gleeful angels, now thoroughly resigned to their sable attendantspirits, allowed themselves to be whirled wildly up and down the roomamid the applause of the gay assembly, who were too amused and absorbedwith the novelty of the scene to notice the absence of their hostess.Had they seen her at that moment they would scarce have recognised heras the woman who, only an hour before, was so radiant and reckless, andwho had headed the Demon's Dance with so light a heart.

  Nanette, having entered unexpectedly without knocking, had beensurprised to find her mistress crouching by the fire in the cosy,luxuriant room, and noticing her pallor and agitation, asked with alarmwhat ailed her.

  "It's a mere trifle," was the abrupt reply. "I--I'm not very well.Should any of the people ask for me, tell them--tell them I have a badheadache--say anything, only don't let them disturb me. I must bealone--you understand?"

  "Yes, madame," said the girl. "This came for you by to-night's post.You have been so worried about the dance, I thought I would not give itto you before you came upstairs," she added, handing her mistress aletter.

  Valerie glanced hastily at the envelope.

  "You may go, Nanette," she said calmly. "I shall require nothing moreto-night. Perhaps to-morrow I shall leave for London."

  "Very well, madame," and rather pleased at this early release from herduties, the maid discreetly withdrew, closing the door noiselessly.

  Going over to the corner where stood a tall lamp, the light of which wastempered by a shade of amber silk, she tore open the letter eagerly, andread its contents.

  "Ah!" she cried, staggering as if she had been dealt a crushing blow,and staring wildly at the open note in her hand. "He, too--he hasdeserted me! I am forsaken!"

  The letter, indeed, completed the retribution which had fallen sosuddenly and mercilessly upon her. It was a short, curt note fromPierre Rouillier, whom she had left in London, stating that, havingdiscovered that Gabrielle had instituted inquiries, and fearing theexposure that must inevitably follow, he had taken the money she hadentrusted to him to deposit in the bank, and was leaving England thatnight. The communication concluded with a cold, heartless declarationthat he had grown tired of her caprices, and therefore he had resolvedthat they should never meet again.

  Wounded to the quick, she tore the letter in half, and cast it upon thefire.

  "Miserable coward!" she hissed. "Afraid of your own safety, you runaway and leave me to meet them alone."

  Sublime in her indignation, she paced the room impatiently. In herdespair she pushed the thick hair from her hot, fevered brow. It cameunloosened, and fell in profuse luxuriance over her bare heaving breast,while at the same time the diamond star dropped upon the floor, and layglistening in the fitful firelight.

  Mad with passion, she crushed it under the heel of her tiny satin shoe.

  Ignominious defeat, combined with the desertion of the only man for whomshe entertained a spark of genuine affection, had completely corrodedher soul. At first she thought only of revenge, and strode up and downmuttering fearful imprecations upon those who had been the cause of herdownfall. With a sudden ebullition of passion she unclasped thebracelet from her wrist, and flinging it down, treated it in the samemanner as the other ornament. Then hooking her thin white fingers inthe lace of her bodice, she tore it to shreds, casting the fragmentsheedlessly about her.

  She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror; a shudder passed overher graceful form, and her slim hands trembled violently.

  "_Dieu_!" she wailed. "What shall I do? Enemies on every side awaittheir opportunity to overthrow me, and jeer at my discomfiture! Ah!what a fate!"

  Pale as the gown she wore, she reeled, and would have fallen had she notclutched the table for support.

  Her passion was succeeded by blank, poignant despair. The bloodlesslips were compressed firmly as she made a vain effort to shake off theterrible fear which had taken possession of her; but the soft, smoothbrow contracted, and the handsome face became dark and gloomy. Shecould not put away the black forebodings; they clung to her; theyclutched her mind with a desperate grasp, and she was powerless toresist them. Her whole frame shook with a feverish tremor, for she wasconscious that fate was against her, and that the spirit of evil washovering about her ready to drag her down to destruction.

  Her lips quivered, but she stood motionless and mute in contemplation.

  The strains of a dreamy waltz penetrating into the room jarred upon hernerves. She covered her ears with her hands to shut out the sound ofgaiety, and waited patiently until it had ceased.

  "If I leave here what will be my future?" she asked aloud indesperation. "I can do nothing--nothing. Hugh knows all--everything!I am already branded as a murderess--a woman who should be hunted downand delivered to justice! And what then? Suppose that cursed Gabriellegave me up to the police?" She paused, and drew a long breath beforecontinuing.

  "La Roquette! The _lunette_!" she cried hoarsely. "I see them! I knowhow justice would punish me, and how my enemies, those who are jealousof my success, would triumph. No--no! _Dieu_! I couldn't bear it--I--!"

  A deep-drawn sob burst from her, and she hid her agonised face in herhands.

  The stillness was only broken by the ticking of the tiny Dresden dock,the chimes of which, as it struck the hour, mingled with the sighs ofthe dejected woman.--Presently she raised her blanched face.

  "Death!" she exclaimed in a husky whisper, looking half fearfullyaround, as if startled at the sound of her own voice. "Nothing elseremains for me. There is no hope--no mercy--I am guilty--_guilty_!Sooner or later death will be the punishment of my crime, so why notnow? If I escape from here, I shall only plunge into poverty and betracked by the bloodhounds of the law. Ah! no! _Sapristi_! I preferdeath!" With wild, wearied eyes she gazed slowly around, bewildered byher own suggestion.

  "Yet am I so much to blame after all?" she soliloquised. "It wasVictor's suggestion--he taught me to commit robbery. He compelled
me tocommit murder. Dazzled by the prospect of wealth and luxury he heldconstantly before my eyes, I submitted. He made me his cat's-paw toperpetrate crimes which he was too great a coward to commit himself, andwhen he found himself cornered he exposed me in order to deprive me ofliberty and life. Had I never met the mean, contemptible scoundrel, Ishould have led as blameless a life as ordinary women, and remained thedutiful wife of Percy Willoughby, notwithstanding his ill-treatment."

  Across her aching forehead she passed her hand quickly, brushing herhair back from her face.

  "Bah!" she continued, with bitterness. "What's the use of thinking ofthings as they might have been? Victor's companionship made me callous,and I stained my hands with crime in order to gain riches. I abandonedevery womanly feeling and instinct, and carried out the plot