subjectagain, although after he had left her he pondered long and deeply uponher curious attitude, and in walking back to the town he turned into thenarrow passage and passed through it to the Rue de France, whence hetook the tram down to the Place Massena.
A dozen times had she urged him to leave her and return to London, butso full of mystery seemed all her actions that he was more than everdetermined to remain and strive to elucidate the reason of her doggedsilence, and solve the curious problem of her strange inexplicableterror.
It was plain that she feared Mariette Lepage, and equally certain alsothat this mysterious woman who feigned to be her friend was neverthelessher bitterest foe. The reason of her visit to him was not at all plain.Her inquiries regarding the tragic circumstances of Nelly Bridson'sdeath were, he felt confident, mere excuses. As he sat in the tram-carwhile it jogged slowly along the narrow noisy street, it suddenlyoccurred to him that from her he might possibly obtain some informationwhich would lead him to an explanation of Liane's secret.
He thought out the matter calmly over a pipe at his hotel, and at lastdecided upon a bold course. She had given him her address, he would,therefore, seek her that afternoon.
In pursuance of his plan he alighted about four o'clock from the trainat Monaco Station and inquired his way to the Villa Fortunee. Followingthe directions of a waiter at the Hotel des Negociants, he walked downthe wide read to the foot of the great rock whereon the town issituated, then ascended by the broad footway, so steep that no vehiclescan get up, and passing through the narrow arches of the fort, foundhimself at last upon the ramparts, in front of the squareMoorish-looking palace of the Prince. Around the small square weremounted several antiquated cannon, while near them wereformidable-looking piles of heavy shot which are carefully dusted eachday, and about the tiny review ground there lounged severalgaudily-attired soldiers in light blue uniforms, lolling upon the wallssmoking cigarettes. The Principality is a small one, but it makes abrave show, even though its defences remind one of comic opera, and itsvaliant soldiers have never smelt any other powder save that of thenoon-day gun. The silence of the siesta was still upon the littleplace, for the afternoon was blazing hot. On one side of the square thesentry at the Palace-gate leaned upon his rifle half-asleep, while onthe other the fireman sat upon the form outside the engine-house, andwith his hands thrust deep in his trousers-pockets moodily watched theslowly-moving hands of the clock in its square, white castellated tower.
George stood for a few moments in the centre of the clean,carefully-swept square, the centre of one of the tiniest governments inthe world, then making further inquiry of the sleepy fireman, wasdirected along the ramparts until he found himself before a fine,square, flat-roofed house, with handsome dead white front, which, facingdue south and situated high up on the summit of that bold rock,commanded a magnificent view of Cap Martin, the Italian coast beyond,and the open Mediterranean. Shut off from the ramparts by a handsomeiron railing, the garden in front was filled with high palms, fruitfuloranges, variegated aloes and a wealth of beautiful flowers, while upona marble plate the words "Villa Fortunee" were inscribed in giltletters. The closed sun-shutters were painted white, like the house,and about the exterior of the place was an air of prosperity which theyoung Englishman did not fail to notice.
Its situation was certainly unique. Deep below, on the great brownrocks descending sheer into the sea, the long waves lashed themselvesinto white foam, while away sea-ward the water was a brilliant bluewhich, however, was losing its colour each moment as the shadowslengthened. Within sight of gay, dazzling Monte Carlo, with all herpleasures and flaunting vices, all her fascinating beauty and hideoustragedy, the house was nevertheless quiet and eminently respectable.For an instant he paused to glance at the beautiful view of sea-coastand mountain, then entering the gate, rang the bell.
An Italian man-servant opened the door and took his card, and a fewmoments later he was ushered into the handsome salon, resplendent withgilt and statuary, where Mariette Lepage had evidently been dozing. Thejalousies of the three long windows were closed; the room, perfumed bygreat bowls of violets, was delightfully cool; and the softly-temperedlight pleasant and restful after the white glare outside.
"This is an unexpected pleasure," Mariette exclaimed in English, risingto allow her hand to linger for an instant in his, then sinking backwith a slight yawn upon her silken couch. In the half-light, as shereclined in graceful abandon upon the divan, her head thrown back upon agreat cushion of rose silk, she looked much younger than she really was.George had guessed her age at thirty-five when she had called at hishotel, but in that dimly-lit room, with her veil removed and attired ina thin light-coloured gown she looked quite ten years younger, andcertainly her face was eminently handsome.
She stretched out her tiny foot, neat in its silk stocking and patentleather shoe, with an air of coquetry, and in doing so displayed eitherby accident or design that _soupcon_ of _lingerie_ which is noindiscretion in a Frenchwoman.
He had taken a seat near her, and was apologising for calling during hersiesta.
"No, no," she exclaimed, with a light laugh. "I am extremely gladyou've come. I retire so late at night that I generally find anafternoon doze beneficial. We women suffer from nerves and other suchthings of which you men know nothing."
"Fortunately for us," he observed. "But then we are liable to a maladyof the heart of far greater severity than that to which your sex issubject. Women's hearts are seldom broken; men's often are. A womancan forget as easily as a child forgets; but the remembrance of a face,of a voice, of a pair of eyes, to him brighter and clearer than allothers, is impressed indelibly upon a man's memory. Every woman fromthe moment she enters her teens is, I regret to say, a coquette atheart. In the game of love the chances are all against the man."
"Why are you so pessimistic?" she asked, raising herself upon her elbowand looking at him amused. "All women are not heartless. Some thereare who remember, and although evil and vicious themselves, areself-denying towards others."
"Yes," he answered. "A few--a very few."
"Of course you must be forgiven for speaking thus," she said, in a soft,pleasant tone. "Your choice of a woman has been an exceedingly unhappyone."
"Why?" he exclaimed, with quick suspicion. "What allegation do you makeagainst Liane?"
"I make no allegation, whatever, m'sieur," she answered, with a smile."It was not in that sense my words were intended. I meant to conveythat your love has only brought unhappiness to you both."
"Unfortunately it has," he sighed. "In vain have I striven to seek somemeans in which to assist Liane to break asunder the tie which binds herto Prince Zertho, but she will not explain its nature, because she saysshe fears to do so."
"I am scarcely surprised," she answered. "Her terror lest the truefacts should be disclosed is but natural."
"Why?" he inquired, hastily.
But she shook her head, saying: "Am I not striving my utmost to assisther? Is it therefore to be supposed that I shall explain facts whichshe desires should remain secret? The object of your present visit issurely not to endeavour to entrap me into telling you facts which, forthe present, will not bear the light? Rather let us come to someunderstanding whereby our interests may be mutual."
"It was for that reason I have called," he said, in a dry, serious tone.Her gaze met his, and he thought in that half-light he detected in herdark, brilliant eyes a keen look of suspicion.
"I am all attention," she answered, pleasantly, moving slightly, so thatshe faced him.
"Well, mine is a curious errand," he began, earnestly, bending towardsher, his elbows on his knees. "There is no reason, as far as I'm aware,why, if you are really Liane's friend, we should not be perfectly frankwith one another. First, I must ask you one question--a strange one youwill no doubt regard it. But it is necessary that I should receive ananswer before I proceed. Did you ever live in Paris--and where?"
She knit her brows for an instant, as if questions regard
ing her pastwere entirely distasteful.
"Well, yes," she answered, after some hesitation. "I once lived inParis with my mother. We had rooms in the Rue Toullier."
"Then there can be no mistake," he exclaimed, quickly. "You areMariette Lepage."
"Of course I am," she said, puzzled at the strangeness of his manner."Why?"
"Because there is a curious circumstance which causes our interests tobe mutual," he answered, watching the flush of excitement upon her faceas he spoke. "Briefly, my father, Sir John Stratfield, was somewhateccentric, and because he knew I loved Liane, he left me penniless. He,however, added an extraordinary clause to his will, in which you arementioned." Then drawing from his