The Place of Dragons: A Mystery

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER XIII

  RELATES A STRANGE STORY

  I stood before Lola, grieved at her distress.

  Too well I knew, alas! how deeply she had suffered, of all thebitterness and remorse with which her young life was filled, blighted byan ever-present terror, her youth sapped and her ideas warped by livingin an atmosphere of criminality.

  Rapidly, as I took her little hands in unspoken sympathy, recollectionsof our strangely-made acquaintanceship ran through my memory, and beforeme arose a truly dramatic and impressive scene.

  I had first seen Lola, two years before, seated alone at luncheon in thepretty salle-a-manger of the _Hotel d'Angleterre_ in Copenhagen. Manyeyes were upon her because of her youth and beauty, and many men sittingat the various tables cast admiring glances at her.

  I was with my friend, Jack Bellairs, and we were breaking our journeyfor a few days in the Danish capital, before going up to Norwaysalmon-fishing.

  Jack first noted her, and drew my attention to the fact that she wasalone. At the time, I knew nothing of the two men who were lunchingtogether at another table at the further end of the room, and that thename of one of them was Jules Jeanjean.

  The girl, we discovered from the concierge, had been living alone in thehotel for a month, and had become on very friendly terms with a certainvery wealthy Hungarian lady, the Baroness Fuegger, of Budapest. Sheaccompanied the Baroness everywhere, but the reason she was lunchingalone that morning was because the Baroness was absent for the day atElsinore.

  During the next day or two we saw the stately old lady, whose chiefdelight seemed to be the ostentatious display of jewellery, constantlyin Lola's company. The girl, though admired everywhere, treated all themen about her with utter unconcern, being most modest and reserved.

  On the fourth morning of our stay, at about ten o'clock, the hotel wasthrown into the greatest commotion by an amazing report that theBaroness's bedroom had been entered during the night and the wholecontents of her jewel-case stolen. The police were at once called, andwere mystified by the fact that the Baroness had locked her door beforeretiring, and that it was still locked when she awoke in the morning.Therefore, it seemed that the jewels had been abstracted immediatelybefore she had entered the room on the previous night--stolen by someone well acquainted with their hiding-place--for the jewel-case was keptfor safety at the bottom of a trunk full of soiled linen.

  Naturally the police inquired if any of the visitors had left the hotelsince the previous night, but no person had left. All the visitors whohad been in the hotel the previous day at noon were still there. Thenight-porter had not noticed anything suspicious, and nobody had heardany unusual sound during the night.

  All of us in the hotel were closely interrogated, including Lola, whopreserved an air of deepest regret that her dear friend, the Baroness,should have been so ingeniously robbed. Indeed, it was during thatinterrogation that I had first exchanged words with her.

  "I can't understand it," she had declared to me in French. "I was in theBaroness's room until she returned at a quarter to twelve, and I amquite sure the jewels were there because, when she took off her diamondnecklet, I got out the case, and placed it with the other jewels."

  "The case might then have been already empty," said the Commissary ofPolice, who was making the investigation.

  "It might have been, of course," replied the girl. "But the diamondnecklet is no longer there!"

  Well, to go into the whole details of the inquiry is unnecessary.Suffice it to say that, though the police searched everywhere, and theBaroness indignantly invoked the aid of her Legation, nothing was everrecovered, and at last I departed for Norway, leaving the Baroness stillenjoying the bright companionship of the young and pretty Lola.

  The two sedate visitors, one of whom I knew later on as Jules Jeanjean,also remained idling their days in the pleasant city, awaiting theconclusion of a business deal, but, of course, holding no communicationwith the fair-haired young girl.

  After that, quite a year passed, and I found myself, in the course of myerratic wanderings, guest of Lord Bracondale at a shooting-party atBalmaclellan Castle, up in Kirkcudbrightshire--in that wild, lonely,heather-clad land which lies between New Galloway and the Solway Firth.

  As is well known, the Earl and Countess of Bracondale surroundthemselves with a very smart set, and the party in question was a bigone. Indeed, most of the rooms in the historic Scottish Castle wereoccupied, and while there was good sport by day, there was at night muchdancing in the fine old ball-room, and much bridge-playing.

  In the midst of all the gaiety came the County Ball at Dumfries, towhich the whole party went over, the ladies eclipsing each other withtheir jewels, as the function is always one of the smartest in Scotland.

  My room at the castle, a big oak-panelled one, was in the east wing, atthe top of a steep flight of spiral stairs set in a corner tower, and onthe night following that of the ball, at about half-past two in themorning, I awoke, and lay thinking, when I fancied I heard somebodymoving about, outside my door.

  I strained my ears to listen.

  The room next mine, further along the corridor, was occupied by a Mrs.Forbes Wilson, the widow of the well-known American millionaire, whilefurther beyond slept Lady Oxborough, and beyond these were several othervisitors' rooms.

  I suppose I must have listened for nearly a quarter of an hour, drowsilywondering who could be on the move, when suddenly I was thoroughlyroused by hearing a sharp click. The door of the room adjoining mine hadbeen closed!

  This struck me as distinctly curious, because, only at six o'clock theprevious evening, Mrs. Forbes Wilson had been called away suddenly tothe bedside of her little daughter, who had been taken ill at Wigton,where she was stopping with friends. The widow had taken her maid withher, and left very hurriedly, leaving her luggage behind, and promisingto return next day if there was nothing seriously wrong with her child.

  Some one was moving about in her room!

  I lay there wondering. But as the minutes passed, and I heard no furthersound, I began to believe that my imagination had deceived me. I hadalmost dozed off to sleep again when suddenly a brilliant ray ofelectricity shot across my room--the light of a small electrictorch--and I was immediately aware that my own door had been openednoiselessly, and an intruder had entered.

  Quick as thought I sprang out of bed in my pyjamas, but, as I did so, Iheard a woman's light scream, while the torch was instantlyextinguished.

  I was at the door, behind the intruder, and when, next moment, Iswitched on the light, to my astonishment I found myself confronted withLola Sorel!

  "You!" I gasped, as the girl shrank from me against the wall, her facewhite as death. "You--Mademoiselle! What is the meaning of thisvisit--eh?"

  "Will you--will you close the door, M'sieur?" she begged in a lowwhisper, in broken English. "Some one may overhear."

  I did as she bade, and slipped on my dressing-gown, which was hangingover the foot-rail of the bed.

  "Well?" I asked, with a good deal of severity, for I saw by her mannerthat she was there for some nefarious purpose. She was dressed in plainblack, with a neat little velvet cap, and wore slippers with rubbersoles. Her hands were covered with india-rubber gloves, such as surgeonsoften wear when operating or making post-mortem examinations. Herelectric torch was attached to her wrist, while, beneath her darkgolf-coat, which fell open, I saw that she wore around her waist acapacious bag of black silk.

  "I--I never dreamed that this was your room, M'sieur," the girldeclared, terrified. "I--I----"

  But she did not conclude her sentence, for she realized how completelyshe had been trapped. Her pretty countenance betrayed terror in everyline, her eyes were staring and haggard, and her hands were trembling.

  "I--I--know there is no escape," she said with her pleasing Frenchaccent. "You are aware of the truth, M'sieur--of what occurred inCopenhagen. Ah, yes. It is Fate that you and I should again meet--and inthese circumstances."

  "Please be seated, Ma
demoiselle," I said. "You have no cause for alarm.Naturally, this encounter has upset you."

  I feared that she might faint, therefore I went to the table where, onthe previous night, the valet had placed some brandy and a siphon ofsoda. Mixing a little, I gave it to her to drink.

  "This will do you good," I said.

  Then, when she had swallowed it, I asked her to explain the reason ofher nocturnal visit to the castle.

  She looked a pale, pathetic little figure, seated there before me, herfair head bowed with shame and confusion, her terrified eyes staringinto space.

  "I--I--am entirely in your hands, M'sieur," she stammered at last. "Icame here to thieve, because--because I am forced to do so. It was workof peril for all three of us--for me most of all. This room was the lastI intended to visit--and in it I found the very last person I wished tomeet--you!"

  "Tell me more about yourself," I urged. "I'm greatly interested."

  "What is there to tell you?" she cried, her eyes filling with bittertears. "I am a thief--that's all. You are a guest here--and it is yourduty to your host to keep me here, and call the police. Jules waswatching on the stairs below. By this time he knows you have trapped me,and they have both escaped--without a doubt--escaped with the stuff Ihanded to them ten minutes ago."

  "Jules? Who is he?" I asked quickly.

  "Jules Jeanjean--my uncle," she replied.

  "Jules Jeanjean!" I ejaculated, "that man!" for the name was synonymousfor all that was audacious and criminal.

  "Yes, M'sieur."

  "And he is your uncle?"

  "Yes. At his instigation I am forced to do these things against mywill," she declared in a hard, bitter voice. "Ah, if only you knew--ifyou knew everything, M'sieur, I believe you would have pity andcompassion for me--you would allow me one more chance--a chance toescape--a chance to try once more to break away from these hateful menwho hold me in the hollow of their hands!"

  She spoke so fervently, so earnestly, that her appeal sank deeply intomy heart. By her despairing manner I saw that she hoped for no clemency,for no sympathy, especially from me, who had actually been suspected ofthe robbery in Copenhagen which she and her confederates had committed.

  "What have you in that bag?" I asked, indicating the black silk bagbeneath her coat.

  She placed her small hand into it and slowly and shamefacedly drew fortha splendid collar of large pearls.

  "I took it from the next room," she said briefly. "I will replace itif--if only you would allow me to get away," she added wistfully.

  "And the other stuff you have stolen?"

  "Ah! My uncle has it. He has already gone--carrying it with him!"

  "Deserted you--and left you to your fate--as soon as he realized thedanger," I remarked. "The coward!"

  "Yes. But it was fortunate that you did not come out of this room--uponthe stairs," she said.

  "Why?"

  "Because he would have killed you with as little compunction as he wouldkill a fly," she replied slowly.

  "I quite believe that. His reputation is known all over Europe," I said."Mine was, no doubt, a fortunate escape."

  "Will you let me put these pearls back?" she asked eagerly.

  "No. Leave them on the table. I will replace them," I said.

  "Then, what do you intend doing with me?" she asked very seriously."Only allow me to go, and I shall always be grateful to you,M'sieur--grateful to you all my life."

  And with a sudden movement she took my hand in hers, and looked soearnestly into my eyes, that I stood before her fascinated by herwonderful beauty.

  The scene was indeed a strange one. She pleaded to me for her liberty,pleaded to me, throwing herself wildly upon her knees, covering her facewith her hands, and bursting into a torrent of hot, bitter tears.

  My duty, both towards my host and towards the guests whose jewellery hadbeen stolen by that silent-footed, expert little thief, was to raise thealarm, and hand her over to the police.

  Yet so pitiful was her appeal, so tragic the story she had brieflyrelated to me, so earnest her promise never to offend again, that Iconfess I could not bring myself to commit her to prison.

  I saw that she was but the unwilling cat's-paw of the most dangerouscriminal in Europe. Therefore, I gently assisted her to rise to her feetand began to further question her.

  In confidence she told me her address in Paris--a flat in the BoulevardPereire--and then, after nearly half an hour's further conversation, Isaid--

  "Very well, Lola. You shall leave here, and I hope to see you in Parisvery shortly. I hope, too, that you will succeed in breaking away fromyour uncle and his associates and so have a chance to live a life ofhonesty."

  "Ah!" she sighed, gripping my hand with heartfelt thanks, as she turnedto creep from the room, and down the stairs. "Ah! If I could! If I onlycould. _Au revoir_, M'sieur. You are indeed generous. I--I owe my lifeto you--_au revoir_!"

  And, then? Well, she had slipped noiselessly down the winding stair,while I had taken the pearl necklace and replaced it in the room of Mrs.Forbes Wilson.

  Imagine the consternation next morning, when it was discovered thatburglars had entered the place, and had got clean away with jewelleryworth in all about thirty thousand pounds.

  I watched the investigations made by the police, who were summoned fromDumfries by telephone.

  But I remained silent, and kept the secret of little Lola Sorel tomyself.

  And here she was, once again--standing before me!