Gilda's beauty revealeditself and dazzled the young man, further enmeshing him in the net ofher mysterious charm.
She had, to a large extent, prevented a flow of conversation byextracting his promise after those appealing requests: "Please don't askme questions. Just trust me. Will you be my friend?"
The aromatic fumes of oriental tobaccos, blending with the scents ofrare exotic blossoms, and the variety of perfumes, with which womenassociate themselves, rose in a seductive, almost vaporous column to thebroad landing which overlooked the throng in the foyer below.
Raife Remington and Gilda Tempest had risen from their seat in thealcove, and leant over the marble balustrade. Each gazed on this sceneof artificial gaiety with mixed emotions. For some minutes, neitherspoke. The languorous tones of violin and 'cello in subdued concert,died away. The orchestra rose from their seats, to rest after theordeal of the prolonged musical medley of alternated rhapsody, tango,and serenade. The movement became general, and the hum of conversationin a babel of talk swelled upwards.
At last Gilda spoke.
"I must go now. Tell me again that you have forgiven me, and that youtrust me."
"Gilda, I tell you again that I trust you. If you are in trouble, sendfor me, and I will endeavour to help you."
"Good-night, Raife!" and she started up the next flight of stairs.Half-way up she stopped, and looking round, beckoned him. When heapproached she whispered: "What is the number of your room? One neverknows in these foreign hotels. I might need you."
"My number is 26," he said. Again they parted, he wondering what shemeant by placing so sudden a confidence in him.
As he descended to the foyer for a final smoke, and that refreshment wehave christened a "nightcap," he glanced upstairs again hoping to gain afinal glimpse of his beloved. Instead, he saw--or was it fancy?--a tallfigure looking down on him with a sardonic smile. For a moment only thesense of mistrust pervaded him. Then with an impatient gesture hemuttered: "What's the matter with you, Raife Remington? You're allnerves to-night. It's time you had that whisky and soda."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE DOCTOR'S DOUBLE PERSONALITY.
Raife Remington finished his cigar and returned rather lazily to hisroom, thinking all the while of the vision of loveliness that had soentranced him--his mind--his soul--his very being.
The little Yale key opened his door, and the lock yielded gracefully toits turn.
Even on the Riviera, the wide expanse of beautiful country which beginson the northern shore of the Mediterranean Sea and extends northwardssomewhere towards the Alps--there are Yale keys.
Yale keys may come from anywhere. They do not all arrive from theUnited States, the land of their invention. Wherever they are found, orwherever they may come from, they serve a useful purpose. They aresmall and flat, and it is possible to get more Yale keys into a givenspace on a ring, than any other keys with a reputation for security.
The other keys that Raife Remington carried were not of this nature.The key of the white room at the old "Blue Boar," in Tunbridge Wells wasmuch more ponderous. Those of Aldborough Park were invented before thedays of Yale and Harvard. The locksmiths who forged and hammered thekeys of Aldborough preceded the foundation of American universities.They were cumbersome, and they lay heavily in the pockets of the lightsuit of clothes which is customary on a spring night at Nice. Raifealso sat heavily in the chair, which faced the fire in his room in theHotel Royal, after his last cigar and "nightcap" below.
He dreamt of the events which had crowded a long day. His mind wasobsessed. A thousand recollections of mysterious occurrences attackedhim from without and within. The sleep, which is a half-sleep,bordering on a doze, gave him no rest. He awoke from this state ofsemi-somnolence. There was a tap--a very distinct tap or rap at thedoor. Half-clad, and yawning, he rose from his chair and opened thedoor. A neatly-clad chambermaid stood without, and with an accent whichis charming to us of the North, said: "Sir Raife, Miss Tempest send meto you. She say, she lose her keys. Perhaps, Sir Raife, your keys willopen her valise. Will you, Sir Raife, lend your keys for the occasion?"
Most young men are human, and the obvious is natural to humanity. Raifepromptly replied to this neatly-clad, soft-voiced young woman: "Yes. Tobe sure. Tell Miss Tempest I am sorry if she has suffered anyinconvenience from her loss. If any of my keys will open her valise, Iam glad to have been of service."
The maid retired. Sir Raife lazily went to bed, now to sleep, for ashort while, that tired sleep that comes to youth which is only in love,and has no greater anxiety than a torn heart recently healed.
The maid returned to Gilda's room and handed the bunch of keys to her,saying: "The Signor send you his keys with ze great pleasure--Signorina."
The Southern man and matron smile so often that one cannot alwaysseparate the smiles and decide which is cynical, and which is graciousor friendly. The maid retired, smiling.
Gilda took the keys and gazed at them.
Then, with a fondling grasp, she handled them--murmuring the while:"These are Raife's keys--the keys of Aldborough Park."
Gazing into space, with a glazed expression, she sank upon the lounge atthe foot of her bed and gasped: "Why must I do these hateful things!"
A soft knock at the door awakened her from the lapse which had ended inthis momentary display of despair. Gilda went to the door expectingthat the maid had returned for some trivial purpose. Hastily placingthe keys in one of those hidden places which women secrete among theirclothing, she opened the door, saying, "Yes. What is it?" The maid wasnot there.
At this hour, which was early, very early, for the Hotel Royal at Nice,there stood a lugubrious figure. Tall, crumpled, yet retaining asomewhat dignified demeanour, Doctor Malsano stood there at his worst.In a stifled, sepulchral voice he demanded: "Have you got them--thekeys?"
The frightened girl, with a devilment which belongs to all who may holda whip-hand for a moment, lost her temporary sense of dismay andanswered boldly: "What do you want?"
He hissed the words at her. "Have you got the keys? The keys, I tellyou. Have you got them?"
That moment of bravery left Gilda almost as quickly as she had becomepossessed of it. The swivel eye, and the rest of that remarkablecountenance and personality, in spite of his dishevelled and distortedappearance, regained the mastery.
Gilda collapsed and weakly replied: "The keys! Yes, I have the keys!"
The doctor entered and Gilda handed them to him. Those keys ofAldborough Park, obtained by subterfuge from Raife--! With a snarl thedoctor snatched them and left the room. When Gilda Tempest slept a calmsleep, without which beauty will not last, Raife Remington tossed andturned on his bed of unrest. The excitement of the renewed meeting withGilda had, to an extent, subsided, and in the feverish hours thatfollowed, his mind coursed through all the dramatic events of the lastfew months. His sense of reason strove hard to rescue him from a madpassion--a passion that every worldly instinct told him would lead toruin--worse than ruin--death. Yes! death. An inglorious, profitlessdeath.
Doctor Danilo Malsano sat in his room at the Hotel Royal. A small phialwas on the table that faced him. He picked it up and swallowed thecontents. His convulsed face presently resumed a more normal, a morepeaceful expression. It was a soothing drug that he had taken--one towhich he was well accustomed. The soft rays of the red-shaded electriclamp suffused the room, the oval mirror on the dressing-table reflecteda saturnine, yet smiling countenance.
The doctor spoke in a whisper to himself, each short sentence wassucceeded by a chortle, a subdued chuckle. "The arm of coincidence islong! The cursed Anglo-Saxon is proud--very proud, but he is a verysimple fool. One of them is dead. It may be this young fool's turnnext. Gilda loves him, too. That is a pity. Yet it must be."
These soft-spoken reflections, with the drug, seemed to pacify theperturbed mind of this extraordinary man, and he appeared to doze for awhile. Presently he sprang to his feet and his frame displayedsurpris
ing activity. Taking Raife's keys in one hand, he opened avalise, from which it was evident that he had travelled much. Yet thelabels of hotels, cities, and townships had been so cleverlymanipulated, that they were hard to decipher. Opening the valise, heproduced some wax, on which, with the dexterity of a practised hand, hetook the impressions of the keys of Aldborough Park.
It was late when the doctor had completed his task. The first greystreaks of dawn crept through the long curtained windows, as hestealthily opened the door of his room. Surveying the silent corridorwith care, he stole stealthily to Gilda's room and tapped gently. Thefrightened girl, accustomed to the strange demands of her uncanny uncle,replied with surprising promptitude.
He hastily thrust Raife's keys into her hand, muttering: "Give theseback to the young fool, and see to it you don't lose your head.
The Broken Thread Page 10