Well, dear," he added, turningto Asta, "go to bed again, and leave your electric light on. They won'tcome out then."
The girl and I exchanged glances, and after a hearty laugh at thefrightened spectacle we all three presented, we again parted, and Ireturned to my room.
What was the meaning of that inexplicable apparition of the hand? Whyhad the dying man warned me of it?
I could quite see Asta's reluctance to tell her father what she hadseen, knowing well how he--plain, matter-of-fact man--would laugh at herand declare that she had been dreaming.
But it was no dream. I myself had seen the Thing with my own eyes,while my own cheek only a few hours before had borne witness to itsactual existence.
I saw how horrified she was at its reappearance, and what a terribleimpression it had produced upon her already overwrought nerves. I knewthat she would not again retire that night--and indeed, feeling thatsome unknown evil was present, I slipped on my clothes and spent theremainder of the night in an armchair, reading a French novel.
Dawn came at last, and as soon as the sun rose I descended, and went outfor a long, invigorating walk beside the Rhone.
On my return I met Asta strolling alone under the trees in the Placenear the hotel, and referred to the weird incident of the night.
"Ah, Mr Kemball, please do not recall it!" she implored. "It is toohorrible! I--I can't make out what it can be--except that it is a signto us of impending evil."
"A sign to us both," I said. "But whom are we to fear?"
"Perhaps that woman."
"Is she still in Lyons, I wonder?"
"Probably. About seven o'clock this morning Dad sent an express messageto somebody. He called a waiter, and I heard him give the letter, withinstructions that it was to be sent at once."
I said nothing, but half an hour later, by the judicious application ofhalf a louis to the floor waiter, I ascertained that the note had beensent to a Madame Trelawnay, at the Hotel du Globe, in the PlaceBellecour.
Trelawnay was, I recollected, one of the names used by the pseudo LadyLettice Lancaster. Therefore, after my _cafe au lait_ I excused myself,stepped over to the hotel, and there ascertained that Madame, who hadbeen there for two days, had received the note, packed hurriedly, and anhour later had left the Perrache Station by the Paris express.
On returning I told Asta this, and at eleven o'clock we were again onthe white dusty highway--that beautiful road through deep valleys andover blue mountains, the Route d'Italie, which runs from Lyons, throughquiet old Chambery, to Modane and the Alpine frontier. In Chambery,however, we turned to the left, and ere long found ourselves in thatscrupulously clean and picturesque summer resort of the wealthy,Aix-les-Bains.
Shaw, who was in the best of spirits, had laughed heartily over Asta'sadventure with the rat, and as we arrived at our destination he turnedto me, expressing a hope that we all three would enjoy "a real goodtime."
I had been in Aix several years before, and knew the life--the bains,the casino, the Villa des Fleurs, the fetes and the boating on the Lacdu Bourget, that never-ending round of gaiety amid which the wealthyidler may pass the days of warm sunshine.
And certainly the three weeks we spent at the old-fashioned Europe--inpreference to a newer and more garish hotel--were most delightful. Ifound myself ever at Asta's side, and noted that her beauty waseverywhere remarked. She was always smartly but neatly dressed--forShaw was apparently most generous in the matter of gowns, some of whichhad come from a well-known dressmaker in the Place Vendome.
I wondered sometimes, as we sat together in the big _salle a manger_ oridled together under the trees in the pretty garden, whether she stillthought of poor Guy Nicholson--or whether she was really pleased whenalone with me. One fact was quite plain--that the visit had wrought abeneficial change in her. Her large dark eyes were again full of lifeand sparkle, and her lips smiled deliciously, showing how she enjoyedthe brightness and gaiety of life.
Shaw had met accidentally at the Grand Cercle a Frenchman he knew namedCount d'Auray, who had a chateau on the edge of the Lake, and one day hewent over to visit him, leaving us to have luncheon together alone.
As we sat on the verandah of the hotel to take our coffee afterwards, Iglanced at her. Never had I seen her looking so charming. She wasentirely in cream serge, relieved with the slightest touches of paleblue, with a large white hat, long white gloves, and white shoes,--thepersonification of summer itself. Ah, yes! she was exquisite, I toldmyself. Yet how strange that she should be the adopted daughter of aman who, though actually a Justice of the Peace, was nevertheless anundesirable.
Time after time had I tried to induce her to reveal to me the reason whyShaw went in such terror of arrest. But she would not betray hissecret. For that I admired her--for was she not devoted to him? Didshe not owe everything to his kindness and his generosity? Like manyanother man, I suppose he had been fooled or tricked by a woman, andhad, in consequence, to lead a celibate life. In order to bringbrightness and youth into his otherwise dull home, he had adopted littleAsta as his daughter.
We had been speaking of a forthcoming fete on the following day when, ofa sudden, she turned in her chair towards me, and with a calm, seriouslook upon her face said--
"Do you know, Mr Kemball, I am greatly worried?"
"Over what?" I asked quickly.
"Well, this morning, when I was walking back from the milliner's, I sawEarnshaw--that woman's husband. Fortunately, he did not see me. Butshe is, I suspect, here in Aix-les-Bains."
"Why should you fear even if she is?" I asked.
"I--well, I really do not know," she faltered.
"Only--to tell you in confidence--I believe some evil work is inprogress--some base conspiracy."
"What causes you to suspect that? You do not believe that your fatheris implicated in it?"
"How can I tell?" she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "I am filled withfear always--knowing in what peril he continually exists."
"I know," I said. "Why he does not act more judiciously I cannot think.At home, at Lydford, he is surely unsuspected, and in security."
"I am always telling him so, but, alas! he will not listen."
"You said that he is now under the influence of that woman."
"I fear so," was her low reply, as she sighed despairingly.
We rose and strolled out together to the car which was waiting to takeus for a run over the hills and among the mountains by the Pont de laCaille to Geneva, seventy kilometres distant. The afternoon wasglorious, and as we sat side by side we chatted and laughed merrily,both of us forgetting all our apprehensions and our cares.
Ah, yes! those days were truly idyllic days, for I loved her devotedly,and each hour I passed in her society the bond became stronger and morefirmly forged.
But could she reciprocate my affection? Ay, that was the great andcrucial question I had asked myself--yea, a thousand times. I dared notyet reveal to her the secret of my heart, for even still she thought andspoke of that honest, upright fellow whose untimely end was soenshrouded in mystery.
We dined at Geneva, in the huge _salle a manger_ of the Beau Rivage,which overlooked the beautiful lake, tranquil and golden in the sunset,with Mont Blanc, towering and snow-capped, showing opposite against theclear evening sky. We strolled for half an hour on the terrace, wherethe English tourists were taking their coffee after dinner, and then, inthe fading twilight, Harris drove us back again to Aix, where we arrivedabout ten o'clock, after a day long to be remembered.
Asta held my hand for a moment in the hall, raising her splendid eyes tomine, and then wishing me good-night, mounted in the lift to her room.Afterwards I went along to the _fumoir_ to find Shaw, but could notdiscover him. Later, however, the hall-porter said he had complained offeeling unwell, and had gone to his room.
I threw myself into a cane chair in the hall, and lit a cigar, for itwas yet early. I suppose I must have remained there perhaps half anhour, when a waiter brought me a note. Tearing it open, I
found in it ascribbled message, in pencil, from Asta.
"There is danger, as I suspected," she wrote. "Be careful. Do notapproach us, and know nothing. Destroy this.--Asta."
I crushed the letter in my pocket and dismissed the servant. What couldit mean?
Not more than a quarter of an hour later, as I still sat smoking andpondering, a tall, dark-bearded, pale-faced, rather elegant-lookingFrenchman, wearing the crimson button of the Legion d'Honneur in hiscoat, entered the hall from the street, and glancing round quickly,advanced to the bureau.
A moment later he came towards me and, halting, bowed and exclaimed ingood English--
"Pardon, m'sieur, but I have the honour to speak with Monsieur Kemball.Is that not so?"
"That is my name," I replied.
"I have something of importance to communicate to
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