Mr. Marx's Secret

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XLVIII. A PAGE OF HISTORY.

  Lord Langerdale's suite of apartments was on the second floor, and whenwe reached them it was no small relief to me to find the room into whichwe turned empty. I sank mechanically into the chair to which he pointed,whilst he himself remained standing a few feet away from me.

  "From what you have told me," he said gravely, "I have not the leastdoubt but that my wife and your mother were sisters."

  I gave a little gasp and began to wonder whether this was not all a wilddream. Lord Langerdale remained silent, whilst I recovered myself in somemeasure.

  "Will you tell me about it?" I asked slowly. "I don't understand."

  "I will tell you everything," Lord Langerdale said kindly. "This is agreat surprise to you, of course, and quite as great a one to me. Here isthe story--or, rather, as much as I know of it."

  He cleared his throat and took a chair by my side. Everything else in theroom except his face was blurred and indistinct, and his voice seemed tocome to me from a long distance. But every word he uttered sank into myheart.

  "Your grandfather was a very poor and very proud English baronet--SirArthur Montavon. My wife Elsie and your mother were his only children,and they were twins. They were presented at Court together, created anequal sensation, and were at once allowed to be the beauties of theseason. This was the time when I first knew them, so it is here that Ibegin my tale.

  "Six months after their appearance in Society, Elsie was engaged to bemarried to me. But your mother seemed to be more difficult to please. Sherefused several very good offers, and at the end of her first season shewas still free.

  "I don't know exactly how or where she first met him," Lord Langerdalecontinued slowly; "but before the following spring your mother wasbetrothed to the Count de Cartienne. At that time he was one of therichest, the best-looking, and most popular men about town. There seemedto be nothing which he could not do, no art in which he was notproficient, and he was passionately in love with your mother. Whether sheever really cared for him I cannot tell; but if she did, it could onlyhave been a very transitory feeling.

  "The marriage-day was fixed and was a general topic of conversation. Ieven believe that your mother had begun to prepare her trousseau, whensomething happened. Count de Cartienne was deposed from his post of chieffavourite in Society, which he at one time held, by a younger and moreextraordinary man. That man was----"

  "Mr. Ravenor!" I exclaimed.

  Lord Langerdale nodded.

  "I don't think," he went on, "that you can possibly imagine from the Mr.Ravenor of to-day what he was when he became the rage of London Society.He had just returned from his first journey in the East, after someperilous adventures, which had filled the columns of the newspapers forweeks and had already created a strong curiosity about him. I met him, Ithink, on the first evening he entered a London drawing-room, and I willnever forget it.

  "He was as handsome as a Greek god, with limbs magnificently developed byhis hardy, vigorous life and rigid asceticism, with the head of a Byron,the manners of a Grandison, and the fire and eloquence of a Burke, whenhe chose to open his mouth.

  "Men and women alike were fascinated, which was all the more remarkableas he sought no intimate amongst the former, and studiously avoidedcompromising himself with any of the latter, although, Heaven knows, hehad no lack of opportunity. The only man with whom he seemed to be on atall friendly terms was de Cartienne; and the only woman to whom he paidany save the most ordinary attention was your mother."

  Lord Langerdale paused for several moments and seemed wrapped in a brownstudy, from which my impatience aroused him. He continued at once:

  "Things went on smoothly for a time, and then rumours began to get about.At first there were only faint whispers, but presently people began totalk openly. Count de Cartienne had better beware, they said, or he wouldlose his bride. At first he treated all such suggestions with contempt,but the time came when he was forced to consider them seriously.

  "Mr. Ravenor published a small volume of poems anonymously, amongst whichwere some passionate love-sonnets addressed to A. M. Everyone was talkingof the book and wondering who the new poet was, when, through sometreachery in the publisher's office, the secret leaked out, and everyonethen knew that those thrilling love-songs were addressed to AliceMontavon.

  "De Cartienne went straight to Mr. Ravenor and demanded an explanation.Mr. Ravenor acknowledged the authorship of the poems, and did not denythat the verses in question were addressed to your mother; further thanthat he would not say a word, and simply referred de Cartienne to her.

  "He went straight to her, poor fellow! and was met with a piteousentreaty that he would release her from her engagement. She loved Mr.Ravenor and could marry no one else. What followed remains to some extenta secret; but this much we know:

  "There was a furious scene between de Cartienne and your mother, whichended in his refusing to give her up and threatening to shoot his rivalif ever he saw them together again. Sir Arthur Montavon, who was deeplyin de Cartienne's debt, swore that the marriage should take place, andapparently they gained their end, for Mr. Ravenor suddenly disappeared,and it was reported that he had left the country. On the very day beforethe wedding, however, Society was furnished with a still more sensationalpiece of scandal; your mother left her home secretly and the companion ofher flight was Mr. Ravenor!"

  I could sit still no longer, but rose and walked up and down the roomwith quick, unsteady strides. Lord Langerdale watched me with a great andgrowing pity in his honest face. There was silence between us for severalminutes, during which, after one keen, restless look of inquiry, I keptmy face turned away from his. Then he continued his story in a somewhatlower key:

  "For two days de Cartienne was virtually a maniac. Then he seemedsuddenly to come to his senses, and I think we all--Elsie and Iespecially--dreaded his terrible, set calmness more even than hisprevious fury. He made no wild threats, nor did he talk to anyone of hisintentions. But we all knew what they were; and when he left London,secretly and alone, we trembled, for we knew that he was going in searchof your mother. He needed no help, for he was himself a born detective,and possessed in a marvellous degree the art of disguising himself.

  "Every day we searched the newspapers anxiously, dreading lest we shouldread of the tragedy which we feared was inevitable. But we heard nothing.The weeks crept on into months and the months to years and still we heardnothing--not even from your mother.

  "We advertised, made every possible form of inquiry, but in vain. Thencame the news of Mr. Ravenor's shipwreck and supposed death, and weconcluded that your mother had perished with him. I accepted a foreignappointment, and only returned to England, after ten years' absence, lastweek. I heard at once of Mr. Ravenor's marvellous return to life and Iwrote to him. The only reply I received was a single sentence:

  "'You can tell your wife that her sister is dead. I have no more to say.'

  "Only yesterday, to my amazement, I met de Cartienne again, and with him,you, who, I felt sure from the beginning, must be Alice's son. It mayseem strange to you that I should know so much and yet know no more. Butit is so."

  I turned round and faced him slowly.

  "Do you mean to say, then, that after her elopement my mother never oncecommunicated with her father or sister?"

  "Only in this way. She left a private message for my wife, telling herthrough whom to forward a letter, but not disclosing her whereabouts. SirArthur Montavon intercepted the message and took advantage of it to writea cruel, stern letter, forbidding her ever to appear in his presenceagain, or to address him or her sister; and I am sorry to say that, athis command, my wife, too, wrote in a censorious vein, hoping to make upfor it by sending another letter a few days afterwards. The first letteryour mother received; the second missed her. She inherited a good deal ofher father's firmness, almost severity, of disposition, and I have nodoubt that the receipt of those letters would lead her to cut herself o
ffaltogether from her family."

  "Then you do not even know where she and Mr. Ravenor were married?" Iasked huskily.

  Lord Langerdale shook his head, and I noticed that he failed to look mein the face. I braced myself up with a great effort.

  "Lord Langerdale," I said quietly, "this is a matter of life or death tome. You seem to avoid my question. Answer me this: Have you any reason tosuppose that--that there was no marriage?"

  "None at all," he answered quickly. "But, my dear boy," he went on,coming over to my side and resting his hand upon my shoulder, "it isalways as well to be prepared for the worst. I will tell you how it hasseemed to me sometimes. Mr. Ravenor had very peculiar views with regardto marriage, something similar to those Shelley held in his youth, and wenever heard of any ceremony, which seems strange. Then, too, theirseparation and your mother's marriage to a farmer, her stern, lonely lifeafterwards, and the fact that your birth has been kept concealed fromyou----"

  He hesitated and seemed to gather encouragement from my face. I couldnot, I would not, for a moment share his fear when I thought steadfastlyabout it. I thought of my mother dying, with a saint-like peace upon herface, in Mr. Ravenor's arms. I thought of the calm, sorrowful dignity ofher life, and the idea refused for a moment to linger in my mind. Someother great cause for estrangement there must have been between them, butnot that--not that!

  "I will go down and see Ravenor to-day," Lord Langerdale declared, withsudden energy. "I will wrest the truth from him."

  I shook my head.

  "This matter lies between him and me only," I said, in a low tone. "Iwill go to him."

  The handle of the door was softly turned and Lady Langerdale stood uponthe threshold. Her husband went over to her at once.

  "Elsie," he said, "you were right. There are many things which yet remainin darkness; but this is Alice's boy--your sister's son."

  She came up to me with outstretched hands and a wistful look in hersweet, womanly face.

  My heart stood still for a moment, and then gave a great throb as I feltthe warm clasp of her hands and the tremulous touch of her lips upon myforehead.

  I knew that I had reached a crisis in my life, and though it had broughtwith it a great fear, it had also brought a great joy, for it seemed asthough the days of my loneliness were over.

  Could I doubt it when I looked into Lady Langerdale's face and felt myuncle's warm hand-clasp? There was a sweetness about such a thought hardfor another to realise, and for a moment I gave myself up to it. WhilstLord Langerdale briefly told his wife the few particulars which I hadbeen able to give him of my mother and myself, I stood between the two,keenly conscious of and enjoying the change which seemed hovering over mylife.

  But afterwards I remembered the ordeal which I had yet to face and themission which had brought me to London, and they saw the gladness dieslowly out of my face.

  Lord Langerdale questioned me concerning it, and then I told themeverything--told them of our suspicions in connection with Mr. Marx andof my determination to find him out, and discover whether he had beenguilty of foul play towards the man Hart.

  When I came to my last night's adventure with Count de Cartienne, LordLangerdale looked very grave.

  "It seems to me," he declared, "that this is more a matter for the policethan for you to mix yourself up in."

  I shook my head. Of one thing I did feel confident, although, as regardsthe whole of the rest of the affair, I was in a complete maze.

  However anxious Mr. Ravenor might be for the truth concerning the missingman to be discovered, he had strong reasons for not wishing the police totake part in the search. I felt sure of that, and was determined to actaccordingly.

  Lord Langerdale was not easily reassured.

  "I don't like the idea of your having anything whatever to do with deCartienne in all the circumstances," he said, with a shudder. "He canhave but one feeling for you, and a more dangerous man does not breathe.It is an evil chance that has brought you together."