*CHAPTER XI*
*A GOLDEN LADY ENTERS: THE EYES AGAIN*
The music of voice and piano was very loud just then, so that the littlesoft whirring sound of the electric bell reached only one or two pairsof ears in the big room. It did not reach the host certainly, andneither he nor most of the others observed the servant make his wayamong the groups of seated or standing people and go to the outer door,which opened upon a tiny hallway. The song came to an end, andeverybody was cheering and applauding and crying _bravo_ or _bis_, orone of the other things that people shout at such times, when, as if inunexpected answer to the outburst, a lady appeared between the yellowportieres, and came forward a little way into the room. She was a talllady of an extraordinary and immediately noticeable grace of movement, alady with rather fair hair, but her eyebrows and lashes had been staineddarker than it was their nature to be. She had the classic Greek typeof face--and figure too--all but the eyes, which were long and narrow,narrow perhaps from a habit of going half closed; and when they were alittle more than half closed, they made a straight black line thatturned up very slightly at the outer end with an Oriental effect, whichwent oddly in that classic face. There is a very popular piece ofsculpture now in the Luxembourg Gallery for which this lady "sat" asmodel to a great artist. Sculptors from all over the world go there todream over its perfect line and contour, and little schoolgirls pretendnot to see it, and middle-aged maiden tourists with red _Baedeckers_ intheir hands regard it furtively, and pass on, and after awhile come backto look again.
The lady was dressed in some close clinging material, which was notcloth-of-gold but something very like it, only much duller--somethingwhich gleamed when she stirred but did not glitter; and over hersplendid shoulders was hung an Oriental scarf heavily worked withmetallic gold. She made an amazing and dramatic picture in that goldenroom. It was as if she had known just what her surroundings would be andhad dressed expressly for them.
The applause ceased as suddenly as if it had been trained to break offat a signal, and the lady came forward a little way, smiling a quietassured smile. At each step her knee threw out the golden stuff of hergown an inch or two, and it flashed suddenly a dull subdued flash in theoverhead light, and died and flashed again. A few of the people in theroom knew who the lady was, and they looked at one another with raisedeyebrows and startled faces; but the others stared at her with an eageradmiration, thinking that they had seldom seen anything so beautiful orso effective. Ste. Marie sat forward on the edge of his chair. Hiseyes sparkled, and he gave a little quick sigh of pleasurableexcitement. This was drama and very good drama too, and he suspectedthat it might at any moment turn into a tragedy.
He saw Captain Stewart, who had been among a group of people halfwayacross the room, turn his head to look, when the cries and the applauseceased so suddenly, and he saw the man's face stiffen by swift degrees,all the joyous buoyant life gone out of it, until it was yellow andrigid like a dead man's face; and Ste. Marie, out of his knowledge ofthe relations between these two people, nodded, _en connaisseur_, for heknew that the man was very badly frightened.
So the host of the evening hung back staring for what must have seemedto him a long and terrible time, though in reality it was but aninstant; then he came forward quickly to greet the newcomer; and if hisface was still yellow-white, there was nothing in his manner but thecourtesy habitual with him. He took the lady's hand and she smiled athim; but her eyes did not smile: they were hard. Ste. Marie, who was thenearest of the others, heard Captain Stewart say--
"This is an unexpected pleasure, my dearest Olga!" And to that the ladyreplied more loudly--
"Yes, I returned to Paris only to-day. You didn't know, of course. Iheard you were entertaining this evening and so I came, knowing that Ishould be welcome."
"Always!" said Captain Stewart. "Always more than welcome!" He noddedto one or two of the men who stood near, and, when they had approached,presented them. Ste. Marie observed that he used the lady's truename--she had, at times, found occasion to employ others--and that hepolitely called her "Madame Nilssen" instead of "Mademoiselle." But atthat moment the lady caught sight of Ste. Marie, and, crying out hisname in a tone of delighted astonishment, turned away from the othermen, brushing past them as if they had been furniture, and advanced,holding out both her hands in greeting.
"Dear Ste. Marie!" she exclaimed. "Fancy finding you here! I'm soglad! Oh, I'm so very glad! Take me away from these people! Find acorner where we can talk. Ah! there is one with a big seat._Allons-y_!" She addressed him for the most part in English, which shespoke perfectly--as perfectly as she spoke French and German and,presumably, her native tongue, which must have been Swedish.
They went to the broad low seat, a sort of hard-cushioned bench, whichstood against one of the walls, and made themselves comfortable there bythe only possible means, which, owing to the width of the thing, was tosit far back with their feet stuck straight out before them. CaptainStewart had followed them across the room, and showed a strong tendencyto remain. Ste. Marie observed that his eyes were hard and bright andvery alert, and that there were two bright spots of colour in his yellowcheeks. It occurred to Ste. Marie that the man was afraid to leave himalone with Olga Nilssen, and he smiled to himself, reflecting that thelady, even if indiscreetly inclined, could tell him nothing--save indetails--that he did not already know.
But, after a few rather awkward moments, Mlle. Nilssen waved anirritated hand.
"Go away!" she said to her host. "Go away to your other guests! I wantto talk to Ste. Marie. We have old times to talk over." And afterhesitating awhile uneasily, Captain Stewart turned back into the room;but for some time thereafter Ste. Marie was aware that a vigilant eyewas being kept upon them, and that their host was by no means at hisease.
When they were left alone together, the girl turned to him and pattedhis arm affectionately. She said--
"Ah, but it is very good to see you again, _mon cher ami_! It has beenso long!" She gave an abrupt frown.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. And she said an unkind thingabout her fellow-guests. She called them _canaille_. She said--
"Why are you wasting your time among these _canaille_? This is not aplace for you. Why did you come?"
"I don't know," said Ste. Marie. He was still a little resentful and hesaid so. He said--
"I didn't know it was going to be like this. I came because Stewartwent rather out of his way to ask me. I'd known him in a very different_milieu_."
"Ah yes!" she said reflectively. "Yes, he does go into the world also,doesn't he! But this is what he likes, you know." Her lips drew backfor an instant and she said--
"He is a pig-dog."
Ste. Marie looked at her gravely. She had used that offensive name witha little too much fierceness. Her face had turned for an instant quitewhite, and her eyes had flashed out over the room a look that meant agreat deal to any one who knew her as well as Ste. Marie did. He satforward and lowered his voice. He said--
"Look here, Olga! I'm going to be very frank for a moment. May I?"
For just an instant the girl drew away from him with suspicion in hereyes, and something else, alertly defiant. Then she put out her handsto his arm.
"You may be what you like, dear Ste. Marie," she said. "And say whatyou like. I will take it all--and swallow it alive--good as gold. Whatare you going to do to me?"
"I've always been fair with you, haven't I?" he urged. "I've haddisagreeable things to say or do but--you knew always that I liked youand--where my sympathies were."
"Always! Always, _mon cher_!" she cried. "I trusted you always ineverything. And there is no one else I trust. No one! No one!
"Ste. Marie!"
"What then?" he asked.
"Ste. Marie," she said, "why did you never fall in love with me, as theother men did?"
"I wonder," said he. "I don't know. Upon my word, I really don'tknow
." He was so serious about it that the girl burst into a shriek oflaughter. And in the end he laughed too.
"I expect it was because I liked you too well," he said at last. "Butcome! We're forgetting my lecture. Listen to your _grandpere_ Ste.Marie! I have heard--certain things--rumours--what you will. Perhapsthey are foolish lies, and I hope they are. But if not, if the fear Isaw in Stewart's face when you came here to-night was--not withoutcause, let me beg you to have a care. You're much too savage, my dearchild. Don't be so foolish as to--well, turn comedy into the otherthing. In the first place it's not worth while, and in the second placeit recoils, always. Revenge may be sweet. I don't know. But nowadays,with police courts and all that, it entails much more subsequentannoyance that it is worth. Be wise, Olga!"
"Some things, Ste. Marie," said the golden lady, "are worth all theconsequences that may follow them." She watched Captain Stewart acrossthe room where he stood chatting with a little group of people, and herbeautiful face was as hard as marble, and her eyes were as dark as astormy night, and her mouth, for an instant, was almost like an animal'smouth, cruel and relentless.
Ste. Marie saw, and he began to be a bit alarmed in good earnest. Inhis warning he had spoken rather more seriously than he felt theoccasion demanded, but he began at last to wonder if the occasion wasnot in reality very serious indeed. He was sure, of course, that OlgaNilssen had come here on this evening to annoy Captain Stewart in somefashion. As he put it to himself, she probably meant to "make a row,"and he would not have been in the least surprised if she had made it inthe beginning upon her very dramatic entrance. Nothing more calamitousthan that had occurred to him. But when he saw the woman's face, turneda little away and gazing fixedly at Captain Stewart, he began to beaware that there was tragedy very near him, or all the makings of it.
Mlle. Nilssen turned back to him. Her face was still hard, and her eyesdark and narrowed, with their oddly Oriental look. She bent hershoulders together for an instant, and her hands moved slowly in herlap, stretching out before her, in a gesture very like a cat's when itwakens from sleep and yawns and extends its claws, as if to make surethat they are still there and ready for use.
"I feel a little like Samson to-night," she said. "I am tired of almosteverything, and I should like very much to pull the world down on top ofme and kill everybody in it--except you, Ste. Marie, dear! Exceptyou!--and be crushed under the ruins."
"I think," said Ste. Marie practically--and the speech sounded ratherlike one of Hartley's speeches--"I think it was not quite the world thatSamson pulled down, but a temple--or a palace--something of that kind."
"Well," said the golden lady, "this place is rather like a temple--aChinese temple, with the pig-dog for high priest."
Ste. Marie frowned at her.
"What are you going to do?" he demanded sharply. "What did you comehere to do? Mischief of some kind--_bien entendu_--but what?"
"Do?" she said, looking at him with her narrowed eyes. "I? Why, whatshould I do? Nothing, of course! I merely said I should like to pullthe place down. Of course I couldn't do that quite literally, now,could I? No. It is merely a mood. I'm not going to do anything."
"You're not being honest with me," he said. And at that her expressionchanged, and she patted his arm again with a gesture that seemed to begforgiveness.
"Well then," she said, "if you must know, maybe I did come here for apurpose. I want to have it out with our friend Captain Stewart aboutsomething.
"And Ste. Marie, dear," she pleaded, "please, I think you'd better gohome first. I don't care about these other animals, but I don't wantyou dragged into any row of any sort. Please, be a sweet Ste. Marie andgo home. Yes?"
"Absolutely, no!" said Ste. Marie. "I shall stay, and I shall try myutmost to prevent you from doing anything foolish. Understand that! Ifyou want to have rows with people, Olga, for Heaven's sake don't pick anoccasion like this for the purpose. Have your rows in private!"
"I rather think I enjoy an audience," she said with a reflective air,and Ste. Marie laughed aloud because he knew that the naive speech wasso very true. This lady, with her many good qualities and her badones--not a few, alas!--had an undeniable passion for red fire that hadamused him very much on more than one past occasion.
"Please, go home!" she said once more. But when the man only shook hishead, she raised her hands a little way and dropped them again in herlap in an odd gesture, which seemed to say that she had done all shecould do, and that if anything disagreeable should happen now, and heshould be involved in it, it would be entirely his fault because she hadwarned him.
Then quite abruptly a mood of irresponsible gaiety seemed to come uponher. She refused to have anything more to do with serious topics, andwhen Ste Marie attempted to introduce them she laughed in his face. Asshe had said in the beginning she wished to do, she harked back to olddays--the earlier stages of what might be termed the Morrison regime,and it seemed to afford her great delight to recall the happenings ofthat epoch. The conversation became a dialogue of reminiscence whichwould have been entirely unintelligible to a third person, and wasindeed so to Captain Stewart, who once came across the room, made afeeble effort to attach himself, and presently wandered away again.
They unearthed from the past an exceedingly foolish song all about one"Little Willie" and a purple monkey climbing up a yellow stick. It wasset to a well-known air from _Don Giovanni_, and when Duval, the bassoheard them singing it, he came up and insisted upon knowing what it wasabout. He laughed immoderately over the English words when he was toldwhat they meant, and made Ste. Marie write them down for him on twovisiting cards. So they made a trio out of "Little Willie," the greatDuval inventing a bass part quite marvellous in its ingenuity, and theywere compelled to sing it over, and over again, until Ste. Marie'sfalsetto imitation of a tenor voice cracked and gave out altogether,since he was by nature baritone, if anything at all.
The other guests had crowded round to hear the extraordinary song, andwhen the song was at last finished several of them remained, so thatSte. Marie saw he was to be allowed an uninterrupted _tete-a-tete_ withOlga Nilssen no longer. He therefore drifted away, after a few moments,and went with Duval and one of the other men across the room to look atsome small jade objects--snuff-bottles, bracelets, buckles and thelike--which were displayed in a cabinet cleverly reconstructed out of aJapanese shrine. It was perhaps ten minutes later when he looked roundthe place and discovered that neither Mlle. Nilssen nor Captain Stewartwere to be seen.
His first thought was of relief, for he said to himself that the two hadsensibly gone into one of the other rooms to "have it out" in peace andquiet. But following that came the recollection of the woman's facewhen she had watched her host across the room. Her words came back tohim: "I feel a little like Samson to-night.... I should very much liketo pull the world down on top of me and kill everybody in it." Ste.Marie thought of these things and he began to be uncomfortable. He foundhimself watching the yellow-hung doorway beyond, with its intricateChinese carving of trees and rocks and little groups of immortals, andhe found that unconsciously he was listening for something--he did notknow what--above the chatter and laughter of the people in the room. Heendured this for possibly five minutes, and all at once found that hecould endure it no longer. He began to make his way quietly through thegroup of people towards the curtained doorway.
As he went one of the women near by complained in a loud tone that theservant had disappeared. She wanted, it seemed, a glass of water havingalready had many glasses of more interesting things. Ste. Marie said hewould get it for her and went on his way. He had an excuse now.
He found himself in a square dimly lighted room, much smaller than theother. There was a round table in the centre so he thought it must beStewart's dining-room. At the left a doorway opened into a place wherethere were lights, and at the other side was another door closed. Fromthe room at the left there came a sound of voices, and though they werenot loud, one of them, Mlle. Olga
Nilssen's voice, was hard and angryand not altogether under control. The man would seem to have beenattempting to pacify her, and he would seem not to have been verysuccessful.
The first words that Ste. Marie was able to distinguish were from thewoman. She said in a low fierce tone--
"That is a lie, my friend! That is a lie. I know all about the road toClamart, so you needn't lie to me any longer. It's no good." Shepaused for just an instant there, and, in the pause, Ste. Marie heardStewart give a sort of inarticulate exclamation. It seemed to expressanger and it seemed also to express fear. But the woman swept on andher voice began to be louder. She said--
"I've given you your chance. You didn't deserve it, but I've given ityou--and you've told me nothing but lies. Well, you'll lie no more.This ends it."
Upon that Ste. Marie heard a sudden stumbling shuffle of feet and a lowhoarse cry of utter terror--a cry more animal-like than human. He heardthe cry break off abruptly in something that was like a cough and awhine together, and he heard the sound of a heavy body falling with aloose rattle upon the floor.
With the sound of that falling body he had already reached the doorwayand torn aside the heavy portiere. It was a sleeping-room he lookedinto, a room of medium size, with two windows and an ornate bed of theEmpire style set sidewise against the farther wall. There were electriclights upon imitation candles which were grouped in sconces against thewalls and these were turned on so that the room was brightlyilluminated. Midway between the door and the ornate Empire bed CaptainStewart lay huddled and writhing upon the floor, and Olga Nilssen stoodupright beside him, gazing down upon him quite calmly. In her righthand, which hung at her side, she held a little flat black automaticpistol of the type known as Brownings, and they look toys but they arenot.
"Captain Stewart lay huddled and writhing upon thefloor."]
Ste. Marie sprang at her silently and caught her by the arm, twistingthe automatic pistol from her grasp, and the woman made no effortwhatever to resist him. She looked into his face quite frankly andunmoved, and she shook her head.
"I haven't harmed him," she said. "I was going to, yes. And thenmyself, but he didn't give me a chance. He fell down in a fit." Shenodded down towards the man, who lay writhing at their feet.
"I frightened him," she said, "and he fell in a fit. He's an epileptic,you know. Didn't you know that? Oh yes."
Abruptly she turned away shivering, and put up her hands over her face.And she gave an exclamation of uncontrollable repulsion.
"Ugh!" she cried, "it's horrible. Horrible! I can't bear to look. Isaw him in a fit once before--long ago--and I couldn't bear even tospeak to him for a month. I thought he had been cured. He said----Ah, it's horrible!"
Ste. Marie had dropped upon his knees beside the fallen man, and Mlle.Nilssen said over her shoulder--
"Hold his head up from the floor, if you can bear to. He might hurtit." It was not an easy thing to do, for Ste. Marie had the naturalsense of repulsion in such matters that most people have, and this man'sappearance, as Olga Nilssen had said, was horrible. The face was drawnhideously, and, in the strong clear light of the electrics, it was adeathly yellow. The eyes were half closed, and the eyeballs turned upso that only the whites of them showed between the lids. There wasfroth upon the distorted mouth, and it clung to the cat-like moustacheand to the shallow sunken chin beneath. But Ste. Marie exerted all hiswill power, and took the jerking trembling head in his hands, holding itclear of the floor.
"You'd better call the servant," he said. "There may be something thatcan be done." But the woman answered, without looking--
"No, there's nothing that can be done, I believe, except to keep himfrom bruising himself. Stimulants--that sort of thing, do more harm thangood. Could you get him on the bed here?"
"Together we might manage it," said Ste. Marie. "Come and help!"
"I can't!" she cried nervously. "I can't--touch him. Please, I can'tdo it."
"Come!" said the man in a sharp tone. "It's no time for nerves. Idon't like it either, but it's got to be done." The woman began ahalf-hysterical sobbing, but after a moment she turned and came withslow feet to where Stewart lay.
Ste. Marie slipped his arms under the man's body and began to raise himfrom the floor.
"You needn't help after all," he said. "He's not heavy." And indeed,under his skilfully shaped and padded clothes, the man was a mere waifof a man--as unbelievably slight as if he were the victim of a wastingdisease. Ste. Marie held the body in his arms as if it had been achild, and carried it across and laid it on the bed; but it was manymonths before he forgot the horror of that awful thing, shaking andtwitching in his hold, the head thumping hideously upon his shoulder,the arms and legs beating against him. It was the most difficult taskhe had ever had to perform.
He laid Captain Stewart upon the bed and straightened the helpless limbsas best he could.
"I suppose," he said, rising again, "I suppose when the man comes out ofthis he'll be frightfully exhausted and drop off to sleep, won't he?We'll have to----" He halted abruptly there and, for a single swiftinstant, he felt the black and rushing sensation of one who is going tofaint away. The wall behind the ornate Empire bed was covered withphotographs, some in frames, others left as they had been received uponthe large squares of weird cardboard which are termed "art mounts."
"Come here a moment, quickly!" said Ste. Marie in a sharp voice. Mlle.Nilssen's sobs had died down to a silent spasmodic catching of thebreath, but she was still much unnerved, and she approached the bed withobvious unwillingness, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Ste.Marie pointed to an unframed photograph which was fastened to the wallby thumb tacks, and his outstretched hand shook as he pointed. Beneaththem the other man still writhed and tumbled in his epileptic fit.
"Do you know who that woman is?" demanded Ste. Marie, and his tone wassuch that Olga Nilssen turned slowly and stared at him.
"That woman," said she, "is the reason why I wished to pull the worlddown upon Charlie Stewart and me to-night. That's who she is."
Ste. Marie gave a sort of cry.
"Who is she?" he insisted. "What is her name? I--have a particularlyimportant reason for wanting to know. I've got to know." Mlle. Nilssenshook her head, still staring at him.
"I can't tell you that," said she. "I don't know the name. I only knowthat--when he met her, he---- I don't know her name, but I know whereshe lives and where he goes every day to see her--a house with a biggarden and walled park on the road to Clamart. It's on the edge of thewood, not far from Fort d'Issy. The Clamart-Vanves-Issy tram runs pastthe wall of one side of the park. That's all I know."
Ste. Marie clasped his head with his hands.
"So near to it!" he groaned, "and yet---- Ah!" He bent forwardsuddenly over the bed and spelled out the name of the photographer,which was pencilled upon the brown cardboard mount.
"There's still a chance," he said. "There's still one chance." Hebecame aware that the woman was watching him curiously, and nodded toher.
"It's something you don't know about," he explained. "I've got to findout who this--girl is. Perhaps the photographer can help me. I used toknow him." All at once his eyes sharpened.
"Tell me the simple truth about something!" said he. "If ever we havebeen friends, if you owe me any good office, tell me this! Do you knowanything about young Arthur Benham's disappearance two months ago, orabout what has become of him?" Again the woman shook her head.
"No," said she. "Nothing at all. I haven't even heard of it. YoungArthur Benham! I've met him once or twice. I wonder--I wonder Stewartnever spoke to me about his disappearance. That's very odd."
"Yes," said Ste. Marie absently, "it is." He gave a little sigh. "Iwonder about a good many things," said he. He glanced down upon the bedbefore them, and Captain Stewart lay still, save for a slight twitchingof the hands. Once he moved his head restlessly from side to side, andsaid something incoherent in a weak murmur.
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sp; "He's out of it," said Olga Nilssen. "He'll sleep now, I think. Isuppose we must get rid of those people and then leave him to the careof his man. A doctor couldn't do anything for him."
"Yes," said Ste. Marie, nodding. "I'll call the servant and tell thepeople that Stewart has been taken ill." He looked once more towardsthe photograph on the wall, and under his breath he said with an odddefiant fierceness--
"I won't believe it!" But he did not explain what he wouldn't believe.He started out of the room, but, halfway, halted and turned back. Helooked Olga Nilssen full in the eyes, saying--
"It is safe to leave you here with him while I call the servant?There'll be no more----?" But the woman gave a low cry and a violentshiver with it.
"You need have no fear," she said. "I've no desire now to--harm him.The--reason is gone. This has cured me. I feel as if I could never bearto see him again. Oh, hurry! Please, hurry! I want to get away fromhere." Ste. Marie nodded and went out of the room.
The Quest: A Romance Page 11