had found thelong-lost miniature of Lady Anne, had ridden with all speed down to thevillage for assistance, and how he had subsequently discovered themysterious hairpin among the long grass by the gateway.
"Have you been able to determine how the missing miniature came intoNelly's possession?" she asked.
"No," he said. "It is entirely a mystery. It almost seems as if shehad carried it in her hand, and it fell from her fingers when she wasstruck."
"The papers also mentioned a brooch which was missing from Nelly'sdress," she observed.
"Yes," he replied. "It was no doubt stolen by the murderer."
"Why are you so certain the assassin was also the thief?" she inquired.
"Well, everything points to such being the case," he said.
"When you first discovered the crime are you certain that the brooch wasnot still at her throat?" his mysterious visitor asked, eyeing himseriously.
He paused, reflecting deeply for a moment.
"I took no notice," he answered. "I was too much upset by the startlingdiscovery to take heed what jewellery the victim wore."
"Cannot you sufficiently recall the appearance of the unfortunate girlwhen first you saw her to say positively whether or not she was stillwearing the ornament? Try; it is most important that this fact shouldbe cleared up," she urged. Her gay carelessness had left her, and shewas full of serious earnestness.
Again he reflected. Once more before his vision rose the tragic scenejust as he had witnessed it, and somehow, he felt a growingconsciousness that this woman's suggestion was correct. Yes, he feltcertain that Nelly, although her eyes were sightless and her heart hadceased to beat, still wore the brooch which her admirer had given her.Again and again he strove to decide, and each time he found himselfconvinced of the one fact alone--that at that moment the brooch wasstill there.
"Well," she exclaimed at last, after intently watching every expressionof his face, "what is your reply?"
"Now that I come to reflect, I am almost positive that the brooch hadnot been stolen," he answered, slowly.
"You are quite confident of that?" she cried, quickly.
"I will not swear," he answered, "but if my memory does not deceive meit was still at her throat. I recollect noticing a strange mark beneathher chin, and wondering how it had been caused. Without doubt when herhead sunk heavily upon her breast in death her chin had pressed upon thebrooch."
"In that case you certainly have sufficient justification to take anoath if the question were put to you in a court of justice," sheobserved, her brows knit reflectively.
George was puzzled how this fact could affect Liane's future welfare, orrescue her from marriage with the Prince. This woman, too, was amystery, and he found himself wondering who and what she was.
"You are already aware of my name," he observed, after a brief pause."Now that we have exchanged confidences in this manner, may I not knowyours?"
"It is no secret, m'sieur," she replied, looking into his face andsmiling. "My name is Mariette Lepage."
"Mariette Lepage!" he gasped, starting from his chair, and glaring ather in bewilderment.
"That, m'sieur, is my name," she answered, opening her dark eyes widelyin surprise at his strange and sudden attitude. "Surely it is not sovery extraordinary that, in giving you, a stranger, an address at thePost Restante I should have used a name that was not my own?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
HELD IN BONDAGE.
George Stratfield walked out of his hotel next morning his mind full ofMariette Lepage's strange statements. Long and deeply he pondered overthe curious situation, but could discern no solution of the intricateproblem. That there was some deep mystery underlying the actions ofthis woman he could not fail to recognise, yet, try how he would, henevertheless found himself regarding her with misgiving. Hercoquettishness caused him grave suspicion. Although she had endeavouredto convince him of her friendliness towards Liane it was apparent fromcertain of her remarks that she had some ulterior motive in endeavouringto obtain from him the exact details of the tragedy. He felt confidentthat she was Liane's enemy.
Was it not a cruel vagary of Fate that he should discover this unknownwoman whom his father had designated as his wife, only to find her thebitterest foe of the woman he loved? This was the woman who, under hisfather's eccentric will, was to be offered twenty thousand pounds toaccept him as husband!
He had said nothing of the offer which sooner or later must be formallymade to her, but before they had parted she had given him as her addressthe Villa Fortunee, at Monaco. He remembered the strange fact of one ofher letters being found in Nelly Bridson's pocket, but when he mentionedit she had merely remarked that she had been acquainted with theunfortunate girl. Nevertheless, he also recollected that the letter hadcontained an expression never used in polite society, and that it hadbeen considered by the police as an altogether extraordinary and ratherincriminating document.
Confused and bewildered, he was walking beneath the awnings on the shopsof the Quai Massena on his way to the Promenade, when suddenly he heardhis name uttered, and on looking up found Liane standing before himsmiling. In her tailor-made gown of pale fawn with a neat toque, shepresented an extremely smart and fresh-looking appearance.
"You were so engrossed, George," she said half-reproachfully, with apretty pout, "that you were actually passing me unnoticed. What's thematter? Something on your mind?"
"Yes," he answered, endeavouring to laugh, so pleased was he that theyhad met. "I have something always on my mind--you."
"Then I regret if thoughts of me induce such sadness," she answered, asturning in the direction she was walking he strolled by her side. TheMarch sun was so warm that its fiery rays burnt his face.
"Don't speak like that, Liane," he protested. "You surely must know howheavily those cruel words you spoke at Monte Carlo have fallen upon me.How can I have happiness when I know that ere long we must part?" Theyhad crossed the road, and were entering the public garden in order thatpassers-by should not overhear their conversation, for in Nice half thepeople in the streets speak or understand English.
"Yes," she sighed gloomily. "I know I ought not to have spoken likethat, George. Forgive me, I know that happiness is not for me, yet I amtrying not to wear my heart upon my sleeve."
"But what compels you to marry this man, who was once an adventurer andswindler, and is still unscrupulous? Surely such a man is no fittinghusband for you?"
Liane glanced at him quickly in surprise. If her lover knew of Zertho'spast he would no doubt have learnt that her father had also earned aprecarious livelihood by his wits.
"Already I have told you that a secret tie binds me irrevocably to him,"she answered huskily, as slowly, side by side, they strolled beneath thetrees.
"It must be broken, whatever its nature," he said quickly.
"Ah! I only wish it could be," she answered wistfully, again sighing."I am compelled to wear a smiling face, but, alas! it only hides a heartworn out with weariness. I'm the most wretched girl in all the world.You think me cruel and heartless--you believe I no longer love you as Idid--you must think so. Yet I assure you that day by day I amremembering with, regret those happy sunny days in Berkshire, those warmbrilliant evenings when, wandering through the quiet leafy lanes, wemade for ourselves a paradise which we foolishly believed would lastalways. And yet it is all past--all past, never to return."
He saw that she was affected, and that tears stood in her eyes.
"Life with me has not the charm it used then to possess, dearest," hesaid, in a low, intense tone, as together they sat upon one of theseats. "True, those days at Stratfield were the happiest of all I haveever known. I remember well how, each time we parted, I counted thelong hours of sunshine until we met again; how, when I was away fromyour side, each road, house and tree reminded me of your own dear self;how in my day-dreams I imagined myself living with you always beside me.The blow came--my father died. You were my idol. I cared for nothingelse in the world
, and before he died I refused to obey his command topart from you."
"Why," she asked quickly, "did your father object to me?"
"Yes, darling, he did," he answered. This was the first time he hadtold her the truth, and it had come out almost involuntarily.
"Then that is why he acted so unjustly towards you?" she observed,thoughtfully. "You displeased him because you loved me."
He nodded in the affirmative.
"But I do not regret it," he exclaimed hastily. "I do not regret,because I still love you as fervently as I did on that memorable eveningwhen my father called me to his bedside and urged me to give up