Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “Over there, sir. But Lady Helena does not dine before nine-thirty.”

  He had called her Lady Helena. Apparently she was a favorite of the establishment. And, as her friend, I should profit by her popularity. Erect as a British colonel, I strode out of the room. My rôle was becoming second nature.

  Passing by the door to the gaming-hall, I heard the clink of gold and counters on the baccarat tables. The thousand franc note was burning in my pocket; with a lucky throw, I might double it, or triple it. After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped up to the door.

  A hundred and eighty francs to enter — the last of my original fortune of two thousand francs. But I handed it over to the doorman with a light heart, for I felt that luck would be with me tonight.

  At that hour, most of the people were dressing for dinner. Only a few confirmed gamblers lingered at the tables, nervous wretches craving the excitement of the play, as a drug addict craves his poison; and a handful of haggard women, who had ventured all their month’s allowance, and saw it slipping speedily across the green cloth into little piles in front of the bankers. I sat down, at a table where the play was at twenty francs a point. There were five at the table, defending their last pennies with desperate caution. The hand was at three hundred francs, and no one taking it. As it passed before me, I stopped it and tossed my money on the table. Eight! A good beginning. I turned over my cards. Nine!...

  Twice more in rapid succession I won. In a few minutes I was master of the table. Only small handfuls of francs dribbled into my pile now. But I continued to scoop them in, with the table emptied. I was left with a bank of eight hundred francs and no contestant.

  The croupier was about to close the game. Suddenly I heard cries of “Bank!” A group of fresh arrivals had come up, ladies gowned for the evening, who had stopped in for a turn before dinner. I had already won six times now; perhaps I had better stop. But the fascination was too strong. Once more I played, and once more I won.... Again and again.... The stakes were higher now, and I discovered that I had seven thousand francs stacked on the table in front of me! But a hand touched my shoulder and Lady Helena’s voice murmured: “Arthur! You playing with such small fry?” I rose and gathered up my winnings with a gesture of indifference. She was right; what were seven thousand francs? A princely tip to the croupier and I was at her service. “Come along,” she said. “We are going to dinner.”

  My breath caught in my throat as she took my arm. Her gleaming shoulders and exquisite throat rose from a calyx of black silk embroidered with arabesques. The gown itself was simple, but the jewels that shimmered in her hair, hung like drops from her ears, and glittered on her fingers! From her neck a double rope of pearls dropped nearly to her waist — a fortune in itself.

  As we moved slowly towards the door, all eyes followed her. And I heard a ripple of comment: “That’s Lady Helena. They say that her husband—” Or: “There goes Lady Helena. Who is that with her?”

  At the entrance to the Ambassadeurs, a giant Hindu, his head wound in a turban, and a scarlet sash at his waist, bowed before us, his hands crossed on his breast.

  “Good Lord!” said Lady Helena. “I’d forgotten. It’s my attendant. The baronet is always afraid that someone will steal my necklace, and, so he has appointed Fathi to take care of me.”

  “He never leaves you?”

  “Not when I have my jewels on.”

  “You must feel like a prisoner.”

  “At times, but I have found ways of escaping. Mary is the only person who has any influence over him, and he adores her.”

  The soft murmur of music met us at the door of the restaurant. The great hall was nearly filled now, and hundreds of heads turned toward us as we passed down the center of the room. The table was laid for eight, and the rest were already there, enjoying cocktails while they waited for Lady Helena’s arrival. The welcome was vociferous, and was followed by introductions; four men and two ladies. A Canadian, who was said to own gold mines in South Africa; the Duke of Wister; a big-game hunter whose name escaped me; and an American newspaper man, whom everybody called Harry, who knew everybody, and, between courses, darted from table to table to talk.

  The two ladies were of opposite types, but both lovely. Mrs. Burlington looked like a little blonde angel who would drink nothing stronger than milk, and it was an education to watch her punish the cocktails! The other was a former Indo-Chinese dancer, whom Lady Helena had picked up in the Orient; an olive-skinned elf, who drank only water, seemed to hear nothing, understand nothing, and see nothing. Strange eyes of green glass, and gilded finger nails.

  Lady Helena smiled cordially on all of her guests and encouraged the gayety that rippled around the table like light breezes. Yet I felt that at the bottom she was not touched by what was going on about her. She took little part in the conversation; and from time to time, behind her gracious smile, I saw her eyes pass from one to another of us with a glance of keen calculation. Even when silent, however, she was always the center of the group. Sitting beside her, I felt the deep charm of her personality spread over me like a drug.

  At one moment she turned and her eyes met mine. The fascination she exercised over me must have been plain on my face! The slight smile that lighted her eyes recognized our mutual understanding. Yet it left me baffled. Was it a smile of acknowledgment or of mocking? It might have been either. And during the rest of the dinner she seemed to forget my presence.

  Before our dessert was finished, she rose abruptly and slipped her arm through the young Oriental dancer’s.

  “I want to gamble!” she cried gayly, and led the way towards the door.

  The others trailed after her, while I brought up the rear without enthusiasm. I had no desire to lose the money I had already won. My eight thousand francs were too precious!

  Once at the green tables, however, the gambling spirit took possession of me; I staked my whole fortune on the first throw. And Luck, which always favors the reckless, rewarded me. My eight thousand francs became sixteen. Again I risked all. My fingers trembled and a swift exultation ran through me.

  I had no system, but I rode my hunches to the limit. The counters slid across the felt, banknotes changed hands, and the calls of the croupiers sounded like a distant surf in my ears. My pockets bulged with bills of every denomination; and I moved from table to table until at last I stood at the entrance to the Inner Hall, where millions were won and lost in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette, and where the ladies were not allowed.

  Before entering, I paused and glanced back over the crowded room. Faces were strained, and the high, excited voices mingled with the clink of the heavy counters. Suddenly a clear voice rose above the rest:

  “Bank!”

  It was Helena. She had lost, and I saw the man beside her toss forty thousand francs to the banker as if he were tipping a caddy. I turned and plunged into the Inner Hall.

  The Bank had already reached dizzying heights. Ten million in gold had just been advanced to a Brazilian, José Ramos, the heir of a Cuban fortune made in rum, who had amassed six million in the past three days, and had lost them this evening between five and seven. He was leaning now at the bar, where his credit was no longer good for a sandwich.

  I watched for a few minutes, and listened to the bits of conversation around the table. Behind me two jewelers were taking notes of the rapid shifts in fortune. The good or bad luck of the players tonight would affect the dealings of the jewelers in the morning. Money flowed across the table like a spring flood. Apparently one had only to lean down and pick it up. I learned that the banker was having a run of bad luck. It was Zeneyos, the Greek multimillionaire.

  I had no idea how much was in my pockets by now, but three counters of ten thousand each, in my hand, itched to be played.

  Slowly I elbowed myself in and placed my bet. I won, replaced my bet, with my winnings, and gathered in a hundred and twenty thousand francs. On the next throw, I staked only two counters, lost twenty thousand, and retreated with ten co
unters of ten thousand each in my hands.

  At the door, I met Helena. “So there you are!” she cried. “I was wondering what had become of you. Let me have some change to play with!” She helped herself to the ten counters in my hand, and disappeared again in the crowd. A shiver went down my back as I watched her weave her way through the players, my hundred thousand francs held lightly in her slim fingers. I hunted up the bar, where a hilarious group had collected around Harry, who gave me a warm welcome, handed me a glass, solemnly tied a blue ribbon in my buttonhole.

  This was followed by applause, shouts, and lifted glasses. For it seemed that I had now become a member of the International Bar Flies of the World, whose branches extended from London to Shanghai.

  My initiation, however, was interrupted by Lady Helena, who appeared unexpectedly at my elbow and led me away in spite of Harry’s protests. She was smiling, but her hands were empty, and with a flicker of the thumb against her fingers she gave me to understand that my hundred thousand francs had flown away.

  “I am bored with this,” she said. “I am going to lose Fathi, my Hindu servant. Wait for me on the terrace.”

  At the desk I emptied my pockets and found myself even richer than I had hoped. When all my counters had been checked up, and my rumpled notes smoothed out, I laid away seventy thousand francs in my pocket-book.

  Helena was already there when I reached the terrace.

  “What a disgusting life!” she said, as I took her arm. “You don’t suppose I enjoy this stupid drinking and gambling, do you? But I have to find excitement somewhere.... I have a neurasthenic husband who spends six months of the year in Scotland brooding over the wickedness of the world. Meanwhile I live in the most luxurious hotels, but the bills are all sent to my husband, and I have hardly a franc for pocket money.”

  We had strolled along the terrace while she had been speaking.

  “My dear Helena—” I began.

  “I cannot stand it!” she broke out. “The loathing and the constant fear....”

  “Fear of what?”

  She gave me a searching look, and her lips parted as if she were about to confide in me. Then she checked herself.

  “So you don’t know?” she asked. She turned her eyes on me, and in their depths I read a terror that froze my blood. Suddenly, her step quickened, and she hurried along the terrace as if escaping from some monstrous thought that had cast its shadow over her. I followed her in silence.

  At the far end of the terrace, in the shadow of a flowering bush, she turned towards me. I saw that she was trembling all over.

  “For God’s sake, Arthur,” she begged, “don’t desert me now.”

  Blindly I reached out and took her in my arms. Her body shuddered against mine. Then, with sudden abandon and desperation, her lips responded to my kiss. A dizziness came over me; and I have no idea how long we stood thus, locked in an embrace where love and fear seemed to play equal parts.... Then, with a suppressed cry, she broke from my arms, and disappeared into the Casino.

  When I discovered her again, she was the center of an excited group at one of the tables where the betting was heaviest. Her manner was once more imperious, her laughter reckless, and she was scattering gold freely. She greeted me with the same dazzling smile which she was bestowing on all around her, and cried out:

  “Hello! Aren’t you going to join us?”

  But I had no interest in gambling now. Her words in the dark of the terrace had aroused too many speculations in my mind as to my own position in this mysterious situation; and her unexpected embrace had left me still quivering. I watched her with a sense of bafflement. Between the gracious Lady Helena who received traveling-bags of burglar’s tools from her husband’s valet, the terror-stricken woman I had held in my arms, and the brilliant creature who gambled away her friend’s money — which was the real Helena? Was she too a person of many masks? And, if so, what did they conceal?

  But before I could find any answer to these questions, I was buttonholed by Harry, who dragged me into a corner and began telling me of his adventures in Moscow during the Revolution.

  As the night wore on, the crowd thinned. Those who remained talked little and gambled intently. The bartender idly polished glasses or served an occasional drink. It was nearly dawn when the party about Helena’s table broke up.

  A thin light was filtering through the windows. Helena left her companions and joined me. We crossed the grounds of the Casino together without a word, but I felt her arm tense in my hand. She had dropped the mask of the gambler, and was once more the strange Helena of the terrace.

  Passing under the arched gate of the hotel, we came into the garden on which our apartments faced. A fountain splashed at the center of the flower-beds, and the pool reflected the pink light of the sky. Lady Helena sat down on the marble rim of the pool and trailed one hand in the water. The other crept into mine. The moment had come, I felt, to clear up the mystery that surrounded us. I took her in my arms and kissed her; she did not protest, but seemed like a sleepwalker.

  Suddenly I knelt by the edge of the pool and plunged my head in the cool water. Fiercely I rubbed every vestige of Arthur Hooker from my cheeks and brow. Enough of this masquerade! Again and again I thrust my face into the water and rubbed until there was no longer any trace of Victor’s make-up on my cheeks. When I rose, my face was tingling, my hair dripping; the shock of the cold water had driven away the fatigue of the night. Only Helena and I were left alone in the world.

  Her eyes were closed, her fingers still trailing in the water. I took her face in both hands, and lifted it towards mine. She opened her eyes slowly, and gazed at me. Then, as she said nothing, and gave no sign of understanding what had happened, I leaned closer to her!

  “Look!” I said “Look, Helena.... I am not Arthur Hooker. There is no Arthur. But you shall know the real name of the man who loves you, and see his real face. I am—”

  But she closed my lips with an impatient touch of her hand.

  “I know,” she said, “I know. Don’t be childish.”

  And gathering her cloak about her, she disappeared through the long French windows into her apartment.

  CHAPTER III

  IT WAS TWO o’clock the next day when someone knocked at the door. In my changed appearance I did not dare open, but through the closed door Mary told me that Lady Skarlett would expect me in an hour to go for a drive. There was no time to lose if I was to become Mr. Arthur Hooker again. This was now the most painful part of my rôle. My one ambition was to appear as myself, with my newly-won seventy thousand francs, my luck at gambling, and my love for Helena. I cursed Durin while I carved the deep scar across my brow.

  A bellboy brought me word that Lady Helena was waiting for me. I found her in the lobby, chatting with Harry and a stranger. It was Harry who caught sight of me first:

  “Where’s your blue ribbon?” he asked jokingly. “A good bar fly ought to wear his insignia all the time.”

  But Helena rescued me without a word and hurried me into her roadster. She took the wheel, while I settled myself at her side. The lack of words between us seemed to imply an intimacy that had no need of speech. But in a moment I was disillusioned.

  “Haven’t you any sense at all?” she broke out.

  “Showing yourself in public with a face like that? Your make-up is so clumsy a child could see through it! Haven’t you learned yet that that scar does not go behind the ear? I see that I shall have to teach you these things. Have you got your make-up case with you?”

  “Yes, but I am sick of being Arthur Hooker.”

  “So I notice.”

  “And in the first place, I want to know, how you knew... but do you know who I am?”

  “Of course! You are a brilliant young lawyer, named Rose. And how is your client?”

  “So you are really interested in him?”

  Helena did not answer. She was driving with a breath-taking sureness and audacity. Her eyes were narrowed and hard. There was no longer any s
ign of her gayety at dinner the night before, nor of her tenderness on the terrace. This woman knew everything about me, and I knew nothing of her, except that her temperament hid many surprises. And one more was revealed to me at once. Without turning her head, she said suddenly: “What is your first name?”

  “Albert.”

  “A horrid name. It just matches that suit you have on. We are going to Rouen to buy you some real clothes.... No, Albert, I am going to call you Ruddy.”

  After this she became absorbed in driving, and we whirled in silence over several miles of open country roads. Then:

  “So it was Durin,” I said at length, “who warned you to expect a visit from his lawyer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did he tell you that I would come as Arthur Hooker?”

  “No, I suppose he didn’t yet know what disguise you would wear. He merely wrote me not to be surprised to receive a visit from his lawyer. But I had forgotten about that when they brought me Mr. Hooker’s card. An old friend, whom I hadn’t seen for two years — naturally, I was delighted. But when I saw you — well, you have to know how to wear a disguise. And you made dozens of mistakes. But don’t let that worry you. After ten minutes’ conversation, it would have been the same anyway. You can deceive a man, perhaps, but never a woman....”

  “Yet there are men who are geniuses at disguising themselves, Lady Helena,” I said, thinking of Durin.

  “Call me Helena,” she said. “Of course there are geniuses at disguise, but only in the movies.”

  “Where did you know Mr. Hooker?” I asked.

  “At Milan. Sir Archibald introduced him to me.”

  “Had you ever seen him before?”

  “Never.”

  “And how long at Milan?”

  “About six weeks.”

  “And he succeeded in getting Durin a place with your husband. How long was Durin with you?”

  “All during the past two years.”

  “You saw him every day?”

  “When my husband and I were together. But what a cross-examination you are putting me through!”