TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER
THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE
Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of abeautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man.
For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then sheturned her gaze upon Hugh.
Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain,and placing both hands to her head, gasped:
_"Dieu!"_
It was Yvonne Ferad. And the cry was one of recognition.
Hugh dashed forward with the doctor, for she was on the point ofcollapse at recognizing them. But in a few seconds she recoveredherself, though she was deathly pale and much agitated.
"Yvonne!" exclaimed The Sparrow in a low, kindly voice. "Then you knowwho we really are? Your reason has returned?"
"Yes," she answered in French. "I remember who you are. Ah! But--butit is all so strange!" she cried wildly. "I--I--I can't think! At last!Yes. I know. I recollect! You!" And she stared at Hugh. "You--you are_Monsieur Henfrey_!"
"That is so, mademoiselle."
"Ah, messieurs," remarked the elderly doctor, who was standing behindhis patient. "She recognized you both--after all! The sudden shock atseeing you has accomplished what we have failed all these months toaccomplish. It is efficacious only in some few cases. In this itis successful. But be careful. I beg of you not to overtax poormademoiselle's brain with many questions. I will leave you."
And he withdrew, closing the door softly after him.
For a few minutes The Sparrow spoke to Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo aboutgeneral things.
"I have been very ill," she said in a low, tremulous voice. "I couldthink of nothing since my accident, until now--and now"--and she gazedaround her with a new interest upon her handsome countenance--"and now Iremember!--but it all seems too hazy and indistinct."
"You recollect things--eh?" asked The Sparrow in a kindly voice, placinghis hand upon her shoulder and looking into her tired eyes.
"Yes. I remember. All the past is slowly returning to me. It seemsages and ages since I last met you, Mr.--Mr. Peters," and she laughedlightly. "Peters--that is the name?"
"It is, mademoiselle," he laughed. "And it is a happy event that, byseeing us unexpectedly, your memory has returned. But the reason Mr.Henfrey is here is to resume that conversation which was so suddenlyinterrupted at the Villa Amette."
Mademoiselle was silent for some moments. Her face was averted, for shewas gazing out of the window to the distant sea.
"Do you wish me to reveal to Monsieur Henfrey the--the secret of hisfather's death?" she asked of The Sparrow.
"Certainly. You were about to do so when--when the accident happened."
"Yes. But--but, oh!--how can I tell him the actual truth when--when,alas! I am so guilty?" cried the woman, much distressed.
"No, no, mademoiselle," said Hugh, placing his hand tenderly upon hershoulder. "Calm yourself. You did not kill my father. Of that I am quiteconvinced. Do not distress yourself, but tell me all that you know."
"Mr. Peters knows something of the affair, I believe," she said slowly."But he never planned it. The whole plot was concocted by Benton." Then,turning to Hugh, Mademoiselle said almost in her natural tone, thoughslightly high-pitched and nervous:
"Benton, the blackguard, was your father's friend at Woodthorpe. Witha man named Howell, known also as Shaw, he prepared a will which yourfather signed unconsciously, and which provided that in the event ofhis death you should be cut off from almost every benefit if you did notmarry Louise Lambert, Benton's adopted daughter."
"But who is Louise actually?" asked Hugh interrupting.
"The real daughter of Benton, who has made pretence of adopting her. Ofcourse Louise is unaware of that fact," Yvonne replied.
Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs. Bondwas so solicitous of the poor girl's welfare.
"Now I happened to be in London, and on one of your father's visits totown, Benton, his friend, introduced us. Naturally I had no knowledge ofthe plot which Benton and Howell had formed, and finding your fathera very agreeable gentleman, I invited him to the furnished flat I hadtaken at Queen's Gate. I went to the theatre with him on two occasions,Benton accompanying us, and then your father returned to the country.One day, about two months later Howell happened to be in London, andpresumably they decided that the plot was ripe for execution, for theyasked me to write to Mr. Henfrey at Woodthorpe, and suggest that heshould come to London, have an early supper with us, and go to a bigcharity ball at the Albert Hall. In due course I received a wire fromMr. Henfrey, who came to London, had supper with me, Benton and Howellbeing also present, while Howell's small closed car, which he alwaysdrove himself, was waiting outside to take us to the ball."
Then she paused and drew a long breath, as though the recollection ofthat night horrified her--as indeed it did.
"After supper I rose and left the room to speak to my servant for amoment, when, just as I re-entered, I saw Howell, who was standingbehind Mr. Henfrey's chair, suddenly bend, place his left arm aroundyour father's neck, and with his right hand press on the nape of theneck just above his collar. 'Here!' your father cried out, thinking itwas a joke, 'what's the game?' But the last word was scarcely audible,for he collapsed across the table. I stood there aghast. Howell,suddenly noticing me, told me roughly to clear out, as I was not wanted.I demanded to know what had happened, but I was told that it did notconcern me. My idea was that Mr. Henfrey had been drugged, for he wasstill alive and apparently dazed. I afterwards heard, however, thatHowell had pressed the needle of a hypodermic syringe containing a newlydiscovered and untraceable poison which he had obtained in secret from acertain chemist in Frankfort, who makes a speciality of such things."
"And what happened then?" asked Hugh, aghast and astounded at the story.
"Benton and Howell sent me out of the room. They waited for over anhour. Then Howell went down to the car. Afterwards, when all was clear,they half carried poor Mr. Henfrey downstairs, placed him in the car,and drove away. Next day I heard that my guest had been found by aconstable in a doorway in Albemarle Street. The officer, who firstthought he was intoxicated, later took him to St. George's Hospital,where he died. Afterwards a scratch was found on the palm of his hand,and the doctors believed it had been caused by a pin infected with somepoison. The truth was, however, that his hand was scratched in openinga bottle of champagne at supper. The doctors never suspected the tinypuncture in the hair at the nape of the neck, and they never discoveredit."
"I knew nothing of the affair," declared The Sparrow, his face cloudedby anger. "Then Howell was the actual murderer?"
"He was," Yvonne replied. "I saw him press the needle into Mr. Henfrey'sneck, while Benton stood by, ready to seize the victim if he resisted.Benton and Howell had agreed to kill Mr. Henfrey, compel his son tomarry Louise, and then get Hugh out of the world by one or other oftheir devilish schemes. Ah!" she sighed, looking sadly before her. "Isee it all now--everything."
"Then it was arranged that after I had married Louise I should also meetwith an unexpected end?"
"Yes. One that should discredit you in the eyes of your wife and yourown friends--an end probably like your father's. A secret visit toLondon, and a mysterious death," Mademoiselle replied.
She spoke quite calmly and rationally. The shock of suddenlyencountering the two persons who had been uppermost in her thoughtsbefore those terrible injuries to her brain had balanced it again.Though the pains in her head were excruciating, as she explained, yetshe could now think, and she remembered all the bitterness of the past.
"You, M'sieur Henfrey, are the son of my dead friend. You have been thevictim of a great and dastardly conspiracy," she said. "But I ask yourforgiveness, for I assure you that when I invited your father up fromWoodthorpe I had no idea whatever of what those assassins intended."
"Benton is already under arrest for another affair," broke in TheSparrow quietly. "I heard so from London yesterd
ay."
"Ah! And I hope that Howell will also be punished for his crime," thehandsome woman cried. "Though I have been a thief, a swindler, and adecoy--ah! yes, I admit it all--I have never committed the crime ofmurder. I know, messieurs," she went on--"I know that I am a socialoutcast, the mysterious Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, they call me! ButI have suffered. I have indeed in these past months paid my debt toSociety, and of you, Mr. Henfrey, I beg forgiveness."
"I forgive you, Mademoiselle," Hugh replied, grasping her slim, whitehand.
"Mademoiselle will, I hope, meet Miss Ranscomb, Mr. Henfrey's fiancee,and tell her the whole truth," said The Sparrow.
"That I certainly will," Yvonne replied. "Now that I can think I shallbe allowed to leave this place--eh?"
"Of course. I will see after that," said the man known as Mr. Peters."You must return to the Villa Amette--for you are still Mademoiselle ofMonte Carlo, remember! Leave it all to me." And he laughed happily.
"But we are no nearer the solution of the mystery as to who attempted tokill you, Mademoiselle," Hugh remarked.
"There can be but one person. Old Cataldi knows who it is," sheanswered.
"Cataldi? Then why has he not told me? I questioned him closely only theother day," said The Sparrow.
"For certain reasons," Mademoiselle replied. "He _dare_ not tell thetruth!"
"Why?" asked Hugh.
"Because--well----" and she turned to The Sparrow. "You will recollectthe affair we brought off in Brussels at that house of the Belgianbaroness close to the Bois de la Cambre. A servant was shot dead. GiulioCataldi shot him in self-defence. But Howell knows of it."
"Well?" asked The Sparrow.
"Howell was in Monte Carlo on the night of the attempt upon me. I methim in the Casino half an hour before I left to walk home. He no doubtrecognized Mr. Henfrey, who was also there, as the son of the manwhom he had murdered, watched him, and followed him up to my villa.He suspected that Mr. Henfrey's object was to face me and demand anexplanation."
"Do you really think so?" gasped Hugh.
"Of that I feel positive. Only Cataldi can prove it."
"Why Cataldi?" inquired Hugh.
"See him again and tell him what I have revealed to you," answeredMademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
"Who was it who warned me against you by that letter posted in Tours?"
"It was part of Howell's scheme, no doubt. I have no idea of theidentity of the writer of any anonymous letter. But Howell, no doubt,saw that if he rid himself of me it would be to his great advantage."
"Then Cataldi will not speak the truth because he fears Howell?"remarked the notorious chief of Europe's underworld.
"Exactly. Now that I can think, I can piece the whole puzzle together.It is all quite plain. Do you not recollect Howell's curious riflefashioned in the form of a walking-stick? When I halted to speak toMadame Beranger on the steps of the Casino as I came out that night, hepassed me carrying that stick. Indeed, he is seldom without it. By meansof that disguised rifle I was shot!"
"But you speak of Cataldi. How can he know?"
"When I entered the house I told him quickly that I believed Howell wasfollowing me. I ordered him to watch. This no doubt he did. He has everbeen faithful to me."
"Buy why should Howell have attempted to fix his guilt upon Mr.Henfrey?" asked The Sparrow. "In doing so he was defeating his own aims.If Mr. Henfrey were sent to prison he could not marry Louise Lambert,and if he had married Louise he would have benefited Howell! Thereforethe whole plot was nullified."
"Exactly, m'sieur. Howell attempted to kill me in order to preserve hissecret, fearing that if I told Mr. Henfrey the truth he would inform thepolice of the circumstances of his father's assassination. In making theattempt he defeated his own ends--a fact which he only realized when toolate!"
CONCLUSION
The foregoing is perhaps one of the most remarkable stories of theunderworld of Europe.
Its details are set down in full in three big portfolios in the archivesof the Surete in Paris--where the present writer has had access to them.
In that bald official narrative which is docketed under the heading"No. 23489/263--Henfrey" there is no mention of the love affair betweenDorise Ranscomb and Hugh Henfrey of Woodthorpe.
But the true facts are that within three days of Mademoiselle's recoveryof her mental balance, old Giulio Cataldi made a sworn statement to thepolice at Nice, and in consequence two gendarmes of the Department ofSeine et Oise went one night to a small hotel at Provins, where theyarrested the Englishman, Shaw, alias Howell, who had gone there in whathe thought was safe hiding.
The arrest took place at midnight, but Howell, on being cornered in hisbedroom, showed fight, and raising an automatic pistol, which he hadunder his pillow, shot and wounded one of the gendarmes. Whereupon hiscompanion drew his revolver in self-defence and shot the Englishmandead.
Benton, a few months later, was sentenced to forced labour for fifteenyears, while his accomplice, Molly Bond, received a sentence of tenyears. Only one case--that of jewel robbery--was, however, provedagainst her.
Dorise, about six weeks after Mademoiselle Yvonne's explanation, mether in London, and there she and Hugh became reconciled. Her jealousyof Louise Lambert disappeared when she knew the actual truth, and sheadmired her lover all the more for his generosity in promising, whenthe Probate Court had set aside the false will, that he would settle acomfortable income upon the poor innocent girl.
This, indeed, he did.
The Sparrow has never since been traced, though Scotland Yard and theSurete have searched everywhere for him. But he is far too clever. Thewriter believes he is now living in obscurity, but perfectly happy, in alittle village outside Barcelona. He loves the sunshine.
As for Hugh, he is now happily married to Dorise, and as the ProbateCourt has decided that Woodthorpe and the substantial income are his, heis enjoying all his father's wealth.
Yvonne Ferad is still Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. She still lives onthe hill in the picturesque Villa Amette, and is still known to thehabitues of the Rooms as--Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
On most nights in spring she can be seen at the Rooms, and those whoknow the truth tell the queer story which I have in the foregoing pagesattempted to relate.
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