hung her head, sinking back rigidly into her chair with lipscompressed. George stood watching her, like a man in a dream. He sawher crushed and hopeless beneath the terrible load upon her conscience,held speechless by some all-consuming terror, trembling like an aspenbecause she knew this woman intended to divulge her secret.
With all his soul he loved her, yet in those painful moments the gulfseemed to widen between them. Her white haggard face told him of thetorture that racked her mind.
"Speak, Liane," he cried in a low intense tone. "What is it you fear?Surely the truth may be uttered?"
"No, no!" she cried wildly, struggling to her feet. "No, let me leavebefore she tells you. I knew instinctively that, after all, she was notmy friend."
"Hear me before you judge," Mariette exclaimed firmly.
"Cannot you place faith in one who declares herself ready to assistyou?" he added.
She shook her head, holding her breath the while, and glaring at himwith eyes full of abject fear.
"Why?"
"Ah! don't ask me, George," she murmured, with her chin sunk upon thelace on her breast. "I am the most wretched woman on earth, because Ihave wilfully deceived you. I had no right to love you; no right to letyou believe that I was pure and good; no right to allow you to placefaith in me. You will hate me when you know all."
"For what reason?" he cried, dismayed.
"My life is overshadowed by evil," she answered vaguely, in a despairingvoice. "I have sinned before God, and must bear the punishment."
"There is forgiveness for those who repent," the woman observed slowly,a hard, cold expression upon her face, as she watched the desperate girltrembling before her.
"There is none for me," she cried in utter despondency, haunted by fear,and bursting again into tears. "None! I can hope for no forgiveness."
At that instant the door of the room was opened, and two persons enteredunannounced. George and Liane were standing together in the centre ofthe saloon, while Mariette was still seated with her back to the door,so that the new comers did not at first notice her presence.
The men were Brooker and Zertho.
"We have followed you here with your lover," exclaimed the Princeangrily, addressing Liane. "We saw you driving to the station together,and watched you. We--"
"The Golden Hand" hearing the voice, turned, and springing to her feetfaced them.
"Mariette!" Zertho gasped, blanched and aghast, the words dying fromhis pale lips. In their eagerness to follow Liane and George they hadentered the villa, not knowing that therein dwelt the woman from whomthey intended on the morrow to fly.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE MINIATURE.
Zertho gave her a single glance full of hatred, then, with a gesture ofimpatience after a few quick words, turned to make his exit. As he didso, however, he found himself face to face with a man who, standing inthe doorway, resolutely barred his passage.
He stood glaring at him as one stupefied. The man was Max Richards.
"No," the latter said. "Now that you have chosen to call here uninvitedit is at least polite to remain at the invitation of your hostess."
"Let me pass!" he cried threateningly.
"I shall not!" Richards answered with firmness, his back to thehalf-closed door, while Brooker stood watching the scene, himself fullof fear and dismay.
"This is a conspiracy!" Zertho exclaimed, his trembling hands clenched,his face livid.
"Listen!" Mariette cried, her cheeks flushed with excitement as shestepped boldly forward and faced him. "This is a counterplot only tocombat your dastardly intrigue. The innocent shall no longer suffer forthe sins of the guilty."
"The guilty!" he echoed, with an insolent laugh. "You mean yourself!"
"I am not without blame, I admit," she answered quickly, her flashingeyes darting him an angry look. "Nevertheless, I have to-day determinedto make atonement; to end for ever this conspiracy of silence." Then,turning to Liane, who was standing whitefaced and aghast, she said,"First, before I speak, it will be necessary for you to make confession.Explain to George of what nature is this bond which holds you to yonderman."
"No, I--I cannot," she protested, covering her face with her hands.
"But it is necessary," she urged. "Speak! Fear nothing. Then thetruth shall be made known."
The slim, fair-faced girl stood with bent head, panting and irresolute,while all waited for the words to fall from her dry, white lips. Atlast, with eyes downcast, she summoned courage, and in a low, hoarsevoice said,--
"Zertho compelled me to accept him because--because he can prove that myfather murdered Charles Holroyde."
"Your father a murderer!" her lover echoed. "Impossible."
"Let me speak," Mariette interrupted, hastily. "Two winters ago I metin Nice a wealthy young Englishman named Holroyde. We saw one anotheroften at Monte Carlo, and our acquaintance ripened into love. Heoffered me marriage, and I accepted; but one night, after winning aconsiderable sum, he returned to Nice about eleven o'clock, was waylaidin a narrow lane running from the Promenade des Anglais into the Rue deFrance, robbed and murdered. Thus was the man I loved cruelly snatchedfrom me just at the moment when happiness was in my reach; just within afew weeks of making me his wife. This villa, which I have since bought,he designated as our home, and this ring upon my finger is the one hegave me. The crime, enshrouded in mystery, has not yet been forgotteneither by the police or the people of Nice. It seemed amazing that sucha dastardly assassination could take place so swiftly without a singleperson hearing any cry, yet the police had no clue. The murderer, whohad no doubt accompanied or followed his victim from Monte Carlo, musthave struck him down with unerring blow and escaped, leaving no tracebehind. Yet there was nevertheless a witness of the deed--a witness whois present."
"A witness!" gasped Liane.
"Yes," Mariette said. "Max Richards will tell you what he saw."
The man indicated, still standing with his back to the door, smiledtriumphantly at Zertho, then said,--
"Yes, it is true. I witnessed the murder of Charles Holroyde. On thatnight I had left the Cafe de la Regence, and crossing the road overtook,in the Avenue de la Gare, Nelly Bridson, Captain Brooker's adopteddaughter. We had met before on several occasions, and after she hadtold me that she had been to a chemist's to obtain something for Liane,who was not well, I offered, as it was late, to accompany her as far asher house in the Rue Dalpozzo. To this she made no objection, and wewalked together along the Rue de France as far as the corner of thestreet wherein she lived. The moon, however, was bright upon the sea,and at my suggestion she consented to accompany me for a stroll alongthe Promenade. To reach the latter we had to pass through a narrowlane, which we had just entered, when we saw straight before us figuresof men struggling together. Instantly I dragged Nelly back into thedeep shadow where we could see without being observed. Suddenly I heardone of the men cry in English `My God! I'm stabbed!' and he staggeredback and fell. Then, discerning for the first time that the man hadbeen attacked by two assailants, I rushed forward, but already they hadbent and secured the contents of their victim's pocket, and as Iapproached one of them threw the knife away. That man I recognised inthe moonlight as Captain Brooker!"
A low groan escaped the lips of the pale-faced, agitated man who hadbeen thus denounced, and he stood paralysed by fear, clutching the backof a chair for support.
"The man, however, who threw away the knife he had snatched up, was notthe murderer," Richards continued, in a clear, calm voice. "Both Nellyand myself were afterwards in complete accord that it was his companionwho had, in the melee, struck the fatal blow. The murderer was the manthere--Zertho d'Auzac."
"It's a lie!" cried the man indicated, "a foul, abominable falsehood!Brooker crept up behind him and tried to gag him with a scarf, when,finding that he was too powerful for him, he struck him full in thebreast. In an instant he was dead."
"Your story is an entire fabrication," Richards answered, in adeprecat
ory tone. "We were both quite close to you, and saw yourmurderous face in the moonlight at the moment when you killed yourvictim. To us it seemed as though you alone had acted withpremeditation, and that instead of assisting you, Brooker wasendeavouring to release Holroyde, for I heard him cry in dismay, `GoodGod! Zertho, what are you doing?' It was you who bent and secured thenotes, while Brooker snatched up the knife, held it for an instant inhesitation, then seeing me approach in the darkness, flung it away andfled after you. I sped along the Promenade for some distance, leavingNellie beside the prostrate man, but you both escaped, and when Ireturned she had gone. She had, I suppose, rushed home,