The Wiles of the Wicked

by William Le Queux

withdrew,closing the door after him.

  Once again I found myself, after those six lost years, alone with mylove.

  "At last!" I cried. "At last I have found you, after all thesemonths!" I was earnestly gazing into her great dark eyes. She hadaltered but little since that night long ago at The Boltons, when I haddiscovered the traces of that hideous tragedy.

  "And why have you come back to me now?" she inquired in a low, strainedvoice.

  "I have striven long and diligently to find you," I answered frankly,"because--because I wished to tell you how I love you--that I have lovedyou always--from the first moment that we met."

  A grave expression crossed her countenance.

  "And yet you forsook me! You calmly broke off the secret engagementthat we had mutually made, and left me without a single word. You havemarried," she added resentfully, "therefore it is scarcely fitting thatyou should come here with a false declaration upon your lips."

  "It is no false declaration, I swear," I cried. "As for my wife, I knewher not, and she is now dead."

  "Dead!" she gasped. "You knew her not! I don't understand."

  "I have loved you always--always, Princess--for I have only ten minutesago ascertained your true rank--"

  "Mabel to you--as always," she said, softly interrupting me.

  "Ah, thank you for those words!" I cried, taking her small gloved hand."I have loved you from the first moment that we met at the colonel's,long ago--you remember that night?"

  "I shall never forget it," she faltered in that low tone as of old,which was as sweetest music to my ears.

  "And you remember that evening when I dined with you at The Boltons?" Isaid. "Incomprehensible though it may seem, I began a new life fromthat night, and for six whole years have existed in a state of utterunconsciousness of all the past. Will you consider me insane if I tellyou that I have no knowledge whatever of meeting you after that night,and only knew of our engagement by discovering this letter among myprivate papers a couple of months ago?" and I drew her letter from mypocket.

  "Your words sound most remarkable," she said, deeply interested."Relate the whole of the facts to me. But first come along to my ownsitting-room. We may be interrupted here."

  And she led the way to the end of the corridor, where we entered anelegant little salon, one of the handsome suite of rooms she occupied.

  She drew forth a chair for me, and allowing a middle-aged gentlewoman--her lady-in-waiting, I presume--to take her hat and gloves, we once morefound ourselves alone.

  How exquisitely beautiful she was! Yet her royal birth, alas! placedher beyond my reach. All my hopes and aspirations had been in aninstant crushed by the knowledge of her rank. I could only now relateto her the truth, and seek her forgiveness for what had seemed a cruelinjustice.

  I took her unresisting hand, and told her how long ago I had loved her,not daring to expose to her the great secret of my heart. If we hadmutually decided upon marriage, and I had deliberately deserted her, itwas, I declared, because of that remarkable unconsciousness which hadblotted out all knowledge of my life previous to that last night when wehad dined together, and I had accompanied the man Hickman to hislodgings.

  "But tell me all," she urged, "so that I can understand and judgeaccordingly."

  And then, beginning at the beginning, I recounted the whole of theamazing facts, just as I have narrated them to the reader in theseforegoing chapters.

  I think the telling occupied most part of an hour; but she sat there,her lovely eyes fixed upon me, her mouth half open, held dumb andmotionless by the strange story I unfolded. Once or twice she gave ventto ejaculations of surprise, and I saw that only by dint of supremeeffort did she succeed in preserving her self-control. I told hereverything. I did not seek to conceal one single fact.

  "And he was actually murdered in my house?" she cried, starting up atlast. "You were present?"

  I explained to her in detail the events of that fateful night.

  "Then at last the truth is plain!" she exclaimed. "You have suppliedthe key to the enigma for which I have been so long in search!"

  "Tell me," I said, in breathless earnestness. "All these years I havebeen striving in vain to solve the problem."

  She paused, her dark, fathomless eyes fixed upon me, as though lackingcourage to tell me the truth.

  "I deceived you, Wilford, from the first," she faltered, "I hid from youthe secret of my birth, and it was at my request Colonel Channing--who,of course, knew me well when he was British Attache at Vienna--refusedto tell you the truth. You wonder, of course, that I should live inEngland _incognita_. Probably, however, you know that my poor mother,the late Empress, loved England and the English. She gave me an Englishname at my baptism, and when only five years of age I was sent here tobe educated. At seventeen I returned to Vienna, but soon became tiredof the eternal glitter of palace life, and a year or two later, as soonas I was of age and my own mistress, I returned to London, took into myservice Mrs Anson, the widow of an English officer well known to mymother, and in order to preserve my _incognita_ caused her to pass as mymother. I took the house at The Boltons, and only Colonel and MrsChanning knew my real station. I was passionately fond of music, anddesired to complete my studies, besides which I am intensely fond ofLondon and of life unfettered by the trammels which must hamper thedaughter of an Emperor."

  "You preferred a quiet, free life in London to that at your father'sCourt?"

  "Exactly," she answered. "At twenty-one I had had my fill of life atCourt, and found existence in London, where I was unknown, far morepleasant. Besides Mrs Anson, I had as companion a young Englishwomanwho had been governess in a well-known family in Vienna. Her name wasGrainger."

  "Grainger?" I cried. "Edna Grainger?"

  "The same. She was my companion. Well, after I had been established atThe Boltons nearly a year I met, while on a visit to a country house, ayoung man with whom I became on very friendly terms--Prince Alexander,heir to the throne of Bulgaria. We met often, and although I stillpassed as Mabel Anson, our acquaintanceship ripened into a mutualaffection. With a disregard for the _convenances_, I induced Mrs Ansonto invite him on several occasions to The Boltons. Onemorning, however, I received a private message from Count deWalkenstein-Trosburg, our ambassador here, saying that he had received acipher telegraphic dispatch that my father, the Emperor, was veryunwell, and his Excellency suggested that I should return to Vienna.This I did, accompanied by Mrs Anson, and, leaving the woman Graingerin charge of the household as usual, I wrote to the young Prince fromVienna, but received no reply, and when I returned a fortnight latersearched for him in vain. He had mysteriously disappeared. A few daysbefore, in my dreams, I had seen the fatal raven, the evil omen of myHouse, and feared the worst."

  "Then the man who was murdered at The Boltons on that night was noneother than Prince Alexander, the heir to the throne of Bulgaria!" Icried.

  "Without a doubt," she answered. "What you have just told me makes itall plain. You took from the dead man's pocket a small goldpencil-case, and you will remember that I recognised it as one that Ihad given him. It was that fact which caused me to suspect you."

  "Suspect me? Did you believe me guilty of murder?"

  "I did not then know that murder had been committed. All that was knownwas that the heir to the throne had mysteriously disappeared. Theterrible truth I have just learnt from your lips. The discovery thatthe little gift I had made to him was in your possession filled me withsuspicion, and in order to solve the mystery I invoked the aid of thepolice-agent attached to our Embassy, and invited both of you to dine,in order that he might meet you. You will remember the man you met onthat night?"

  "Hickman!" I cried. "Was he really a police-agent?"

  "Yes. He induced you, it appears, to go to a lodging he had taken forthe purpose, and without my knowledge gave you a drugged cigar. Youfell unconscious, and this enabled him to thoroughly overhaul yourpockets, and also to go to your chambers during th
e night, either withyour latch-key, and make a complete search, the result of whichconvinced us both that you had no hand in the missing man'sdisappearance, in spite of the fact that his dress-stud and pencil-casewere in your possession. On the following morning, however, when youwere but half conscious--Hickman having then returned from making hissearch at Essex Street--you accidentally struck your head a violent blowon the corner of the stone mantelshelf. This blow, so severe that theywere compelled to remove you to the hospital, apparently affected yourbrain, for when I met you again a month later you seamed curiouslyvacant in mind, and had no recollection whatever of the events that hadpassed."

  "I had none, I assure