In White Raiment

by William Le Queux

tragedy. Sir Henry's wife is Mrs Chetwode'sbosom friend."

  The old fellow grunted, closed his eyes, and puffed contentedly at hispipe.

  "In that case," he observed at last, "her ladyship may know somethingabout that affair. Is that your suspicion?"

  "Well, yes; to tell the truth, that is my opinion."

  "And also mine," he exclaimed. "I am glad you have told me this, for itthrows considerable light upon my discovery."

  "Discovery?" I echoed. "What have you discovered?"

  "The identity of the woman in black who visited Miss Wynd last night."

  "You've discovered her--already?" I cried. "Who was she?"

  "A woman known as La Gioia," responded the queer old fellow, puffing acloud of rank smoke from his heavy lips.

  "La Gioia?" I gasped, open-mouthed and rigid. "La Gioia! And you havefound her?"

  "Yes; I have found her."

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  A COUNTER-PLOT.

  "I have no knowledge yet of who the woman is," responded Hoefer, inanswer to my question. "I only know that her name is La Gioia. But youare aware of her identity, it seems."

  "No; like yourself, I only know her name."

  He glanced at me rather curiously through his big spectacles, and I knewthat he doubted my words. I pressed him to explain by what means he hadmade the discovery, but his answers were ambiguous. In brief, hebelieved that I knew more than I really did, and therefore declined totell me anything. He was extremely eccentric, this queer old dabbler inthe occult, and I well knew that, having once adopted a plan in thepursuit of an inquiry, no power on earth would induce him to deviatefrom it.

  Fully an hour I remained in that atmosphere full of poisonous fumes,watching a further but futile analysis that he made, and afterwards tookmy leave of him.

  I went back to Bayswater, wrote a letter of resignation to the doctorwho had employed me, and then went forth again upon my round of visits.The practice was large and scattered, and several cases were criticalones, therefore it was not until nearly eight o'clock that I returnedagain, fagged and hungry, only to find the waiting-room filled with clubpatients and others.

  The irregularity of meals is one of the chief discomforts of a busydoctor's life. I snatched a few moments to swallow my soup, and thenentered the surgery and sat there until past nine ere I could commencedinner.

  Then, over my coffee and a pipe, I sat at ease, thinking over the manyoccurrences of the day. Truly it had been an eventful one--theturning-point of my life. I had telegraphed to my mother, telling herof my good fortune, and, in response, received her heartycongratulations. One of the chief gratifications which the thousandpounds had brought to me was the fact that, for a year or so, she wouldnot feel the absolute pinch of poverty as she had done through so longpast.

  And I was invited to Atworth! I should there have an opportunity ofbeing always at the side of the woman I loved so madly, and perhaps beenabled to penetrate the veil of mystery with which she was surrounded.I was suspicious of the baronet's wife--suspicious because she had madeher first call upon me under such curious circumstances. How did sheknow me? and for what reason had she sought my acquaintance?

  She had endeavoured to flirt with me. Faugh! Her beauty, hersmartness, and her clever woman's wiles might have turned the heads ofthe majority of men. But I loved Beryl, and she was mine--mine!

  Reader, I have taken you entirely into my confidence, and I am layingbare to you my secret. Need I tell you how maddening the enigma had nowbecome, how near I always seemed to some solution and yet how far offthe truth? Place yourself in my position for a single moment--adoringthe woman who, although she was actually my wife, was yet ignorant ofthe fact; and I dare not tell her the truth lest she might hold me insuspicion as one of those who had conspired against her. So far fromthe problem being, solved, each day rendered it more intricate and moreinscrutable, until the continual weight upon my mind drove me todespair. Hence my anxiety for the days to pass in order that I mightjourney down to Atworth.

  At last, on a close, overcast afternoon in the middle of September, whenthe hot sun seemed unable to penetrate the heavy veil of London smokeand the air was suffocating, I left Paddington, and, in due course,found myself upon the platform of the wayside station of Corsham, closeto the entrance to the Box tunnel, where Sir Henry and his wife awaitedme. The former was a tall, smart-looking, elderly man with grey hairand a well-trimmed grey beard, who, on our introduction, greeted me mostcordially, expressing a hope that I should have "a good time" with them.I liked him at once; his face was open and honest, and his hand-gripwas sincere.

  We mounted the smart dogcart, and, leaving my baggage to the servant,drove out into the high-road which ran over the hills, looming purple inthe golden sunset haze, to Trowbridge. Five miles through thatpicturesque, romantic district--one of the fairest in England--skirtingthe Monk's Park, crossing the old Roman Road between Bath and London,and having ascended the ridge of the steep known as Corsham Side, wedescended again through the little old-fashioned village of Atworth by aroad which brought us, at last, to the lodge of the Hall. Then,entering the drive, we drove up to the fine old Tudor mansion, low andcomfortable looking, with its long _facade_ almost overgrown with ivy.One of "the stately homes of England," it stood commanding a view of thewhole range of the Wiltshire hills, the trees and park now bathed in theviolets of the afterglow.

  From the great hall the guests came forth to meet us in old Englishwelcome, and, as I descended, Beryl herself, fresh in a pink cottonblouse and short cycling skirt, was the first to take my hand.

  "At last, Doctor Colkirk!" she cried. "We're all awfully delighted tosee you."

  Our eyes met, and I saw in hers a look of genuine welcome.

  "You are very kind," I answered. "The pleasure is, I assure you, quitemutual."

  Then my host introduced me to all the others.

  The house, built in the form of a square, with a large courtyard in thecentre, was much larger than it appeared from the exterior. The hall,filled as it was with curios and trophies of the chase--for the baronetwas a keen sportsman, and his wife, too, was an excellent shot--formed acomfortable lounge. My host and hostess had travelled widely in Indiaand the East, and most of the Atworth collection had been acquiredduring their visits to the Colonies. The room assigned to me was abright pleasant one, clean, with old-fashioned chintzes, while from thedeep window I could see across the lawn and the deep glen beyond, awayover the winding Avon to the darkening hills.

  At dinner I was placed next my hostess, with Beryl on my left. Thelatter wore a striking gown of turquoise blue, which, cut low at theneck, suited her admirably. Her wonderful gold-brown hair had evidentlybeen arranged by a practised maid; but, as I turned to her, before sheseated herself, I saw, at her throat, an object which caused me to startin surprise; suspended by a thin gold chain around her neck, a smallornament in diamonds, an exact replica of that curious little charm,shaped like a note of interrogation, which I had taken from her on thefateful day of our marriage, which I wore around my own neck at themoment. As I looked it sparkled and flashed with a thousand brilliantfires. Could that strange little device convey any hidden meaning? Itwas curious that, having lost one, she should wear another exactlysimilar.

  We sat down together chatting merrily. The baronet's wife was in blacklace, her white throat and arms gleaming through the transparency, whileher corsage was relieved by crimson carnations. Around the table, too,were several other striking dresses, for the majority of the guests wereyoung, and the house-party was a decidedly smart one. The meal, too,was served with a stateliness which characterised everything in thehousehold of the Pierrepoint-Lanes.

  I watched my love carefully, and saw, by her slightly flushed cheeks,that my arrival gave her the utmost satisfaction.

  It was in the drawing-room afterwards, when we were sitting together,that I inquired if she had entirely recovered.

  "Oh, entirely," she replied. "It was extraordinar
y, was it not? Do youknow whether Doctor Hoefer has visited the house again?"

  "I don't know," I responded. "He's so very secret in all his doings.He will tell me nothing--save one thing."

  "One thing--what is that?"

  "He has discovered the identity of your visitor in black."

  "He has?" she cried quickly. "Who was she?"

  "A woman whom he called by a curious foreign name," I said, watchingBeryl's face the while. "I think he said she was known amongst herintimates as La Gioia."

  The light died in an instant from her face.

  "La Gioia!" she gasped. "And he knows her?"

  "I presume that, as a result of his inquiries, he has made thisdiscovery. His shrewdness is something