home," exclaimed Liane, suddenlyinterested.
"Yes, very well. The chateau is a fine old place perched high up,overlooking a beautiful fertile valley," her hostess replied. "I oncewent there a few years ago, when the old Prince was alive, and I wellremember being charmed by the romantic quaintness of its interior.Inside, one is back three centuries; with oak panelling, old oakfurniture, great old-fashioned fireplaces with cosy corners, and narrowwindows, through which long ago archers shed their flights of arrows.There is a dungeon, too; and a dark gloomy prison-chamber in one of theround turrets. It is altogether a most delightful old place."
"Gloomy, I suppose?" observed Liane thoughtfully.
"Well, life amid such old-world surroundings as those could scarcely bequite as bright or enjoyable as Nice or Paris, but it is nevertheless amagnificent and well-preserved relic of a bygone age. Without doubt itis one of the finest of feudal chateaux in Europe."
"Are any of the rooms modern?"
"None," Madame replied. "It seems to have been the hobby of the Princesd'Auzac to preserve intact its ancient character. You will be envied asthe possessor of such a fine old place. I shall be delighted to comeand see you when you are settled--if I may."
"Certainly. I, too, shall be delighted," Liane answered mechanically."In a place like that one will require a constant supply of visitors tomake life at all endurable. It is, I fear, one of those grey,forbidding-looking old places as full of rats as it is of traditions."
"I don't know about the rats," her hostess answered, laughing heartily."But there are, I know, many quaint and curious legends connected withthe place. My brother told me some."
"What were they about?"
"Oh, about the tyranny of the d'Auzacs who, in the middle ages, ravagedthe Eiffel and the Moselle valley, and more than once attacked the townof Treves itself. In those days the name of d'Auzac was synonymous ofall that was cruel and brutal; but the family have become civilisedsince then, and," she added, looking towards Zertho, who was laughingwith her two daughters, "the Prince scarcely looks a person to befeared."
"No," observed Liane, with a forced smile. To her also the name ofd'Auzac was synonymous of cunning, brutality, and unscrupulousness. Shepictured to herself the great mountain stronghold, a grim, grey relic ofan age of barbarism, the lonely dreary place peopled by ghosts of anhistoric past, that was to be her home, in which she was to live withthis man who held her enthralled. Then she shuddered.
Her hostess noticed it, wondered, but attributed it to the draught fromthe open window. To her it was inconceivable that any girl could refusePrince Zertho's offer of marriage. He was one of the most eligible ofmen, his polished manner had made him a favourite everywhere, and oneheard his wealth discussed wherever one visited. Either of her owndaughters would, she knew, be only too pleased to become Princess.
Liane, although nothing of a coquette, was nevertheless well enoughversed in the ways of the world to be tactful when occasion required,and at this moment strenuously strove not to betray her world-weariness.Although consumed by grief and despair she nevertheless smiled withfeigned contentment, and a moment later with an air so gay and flippantthat none would guess the terrible dread which was wearing out her younglife, joined in the light amusing chatter with Madame's daughters.
"We saw you at Monte Carlo last night," one of the girls exclaimed,suddenly, addressing Zertho.
"Did you?" he answered, with a start. "I really saw nothing of you."
"We were quite close to you," observed her sister, "You were sittingwith Captain Brooker, and were having quite a run of good fortune when,suddenly, you both jumped up and disappeared like magic. We tried toattract your attention, but you would not glance in our direction.Before we could get round to you you had gone. Why did you leave soquickly?"
"We wanted to catch our train," Zertho answered, a lie ever ready uponhis lips. "We had only three minutes, and just managed to scramble in."
"Did you notice a fine, handsome-looking woman at the table, a woman inblue dress trimmed with silver?" asked Madame Bertholet.
Zertho again started. In a second, however, he recovered hisself-possession.
"I am afraid I did not," he replied with a smile.
"I was too intent upon the game. Besides," and he paused, glancing atLiane, "female beauty ought not to attract me now."
They all laughed in chorus.
"Of course not," Madame agreed. "But the woman wore such a gay costume,and was altogether so reckless that I thought you might have noticedher. Everybody was looking at her. I was told that she is a well-knowngambler who has won huge sums at various times, and is invariably solucky that she is known to habitues of the table as `The Golden Hand.'"
"Everything her hand touches turns to gold--eh?" Zertho hazarded. "Ionly wish my fingers possessed the same potency. It must bedelightful."
"But she's not at all a desirable acquaintance, if all I hear is true,"Madame observed. "Do you know nothing of her by repute?"
"I fancy I've heard the sobriquet before," he replied. "I'm sorry Ididn't notice her. Did she win?"
Liane and the Prince exchanged significant glances. "Yes, while wewatched she won, at a rough estimate, nearly twenty thousand francs,"one of the girls said.
"A friend who accompanied us told us all about her," Madame observed."Hers has been a most remarkable career. It appears that at one timeshe was well-known in Paris as a singer at La Scala, and the music hallsin the Champs Elysees, but some mysterious circumstance caused her toleave Paris hurriedly. She was next heard of in New York, where she wassinging at the music halls, and it was said that she returned to Franceat the country's expense, but that, on being brought before thetribunal, the charge against her could not be substantiated, and she wastherefore released. Subsequently, after a strange and chequered life,she turned up about four years ago at Monte Carlo, and became sosuccessful that very soon she had amassed a considerable sum of money.To the attendants and those who frequent the Casino she is a mystery.For sheer recklessness no woman who comes to the tables has her equal;yet she is invariably alone, plays at her own discretion withoutconsulting anyone, and with a thoroughly business-like air, speaks toscarcely anybody, and always rises from the table at eleven, whetherwinning or losing. Indeed, `The Golden Hand' is altogether a mostremarkable person."
"Curious," observed Zertho, reflectively. "I wish I had noticed her.You say she was sitting at our table?"
"Yes," answered one of the girls. "She sat straight before you, andbecause you were winning she watched you closely several times."
"Watched me!" he exclaimed, dismayed.
"Yes," answered the girl, with a laugh. "Why, you speak as if shepossessed the evil eye, or something! She's smart and good-lookingcertainly, but I don't think Liane need fear in her a rival."
"Scarcely," he answered, with a forced smile. But the alarming truthpossessed him that Mariette had surreptitiously watched Brooker andhimself before they had discovered her presence. He reproached himselfbitterly for having gone to Monte Carlo that night, yet gambler that hewas he had been unable to resist the temptation of the tables once againere they left the Riviera.
But the woman known as "The Golden Hand" had watched them both, and bythis time most probably knew where they were living. Neither he nor theCaptain had any idea that Mariette Lepage still hovered about thetables, or they would certainly never have set foot inside thePrincipality.
Liane in her cool summer-like gown sat in a low wicker lounge-chair andlistened to this description of the notorious woman without uttering aword. She dared not trust herself to speak lest she should divulge thesecret within her breast. She had grown uncomfortable, and onlybreathed more freely when, ten minutes later, they made their adieux andbegan to descend the Boulevard back to Nice.
"So your old friend Mariette has seen you!" she exclaimed, as soon asthey had walked twenty paces from the house.
"Yes," he snapped. "Another illustration of my accursed luck. Thesooner we
leave Nice the better."
"Very well," she answered, with a weary sigh. She did not tell him thatshe had already ascertained from George Stratfield that "The GoldenHand" had been to Nice.
"We must leave for Paris," he said briefly. "It will not be wise to runtoo great a risk. If she chooses she can make things extremelyunpleasant."
"For you?"
"No," he answered, turning quickly towards her. "For you."
She held her breath; the colour fled from her cheeks. He lost noopportunity of reminding her of