CHAPTER XXII
THE WRONG MAN
Selingman came out into the sunlit streets very much as a man who leavesa dark and shrouded room. The shock of tragedy was still upon him. Therewas a little choke in his throat as he mingled with the careless,pleasure-loving throng, mostly wending their way now towards the Roomsor the Terrace. As he crossed the square towards the Hotel de Paris, hissteps grew slower and slower. He looked at the building half-fearfully.Beautifully dressed women, men of every nationality, were passing in andout all the time. The commissionaire, with his little group ofsatellites, stood sunning himself on the lowest step, a splendid,complacent figure. There was no sign there of the horror that was hiddenwithin. Even while he looked up at the windows he felt a hand upon hisarm. Draconmeyer had caught him up and had fallen into step with him.
"Well, dear philosopher," he exclaimed, "why this subdued aspect? Hasyour solitary day depressed you?"
Selingman turned slowly around. Draconmeyer's eyes beneath hisgold-rimmed spectacles were bright. He was carrying himself with lessthan his usual stoop, he wore a red carnation in his buttonhole. He wasin spirits which for him were almost boisterous.
"Have you been in there?" Selingman asked, in a low tone.
Draconmeyer glanced at the hotel and back again at his companion.
"In where?" he demanded. "In the hotel? I left Lady Hunterleys there ashort time ago. I have been up to the bank since."
"You don't know yet, then?"
"Know what?"
There was a momentary silence. Draconmeyer suddenly gripped hiscompanion by the arm.
"Go on," he insisted. "Tell me?"
"It's all over!" Selingman exclaimed hoarsely. "Jean Coulois came to mea quarter of an hour ago. It is finished. Damnation, Draconmeyer, let gomy arm!"
Draconmeyer withdrew his fingers. There was no longer any stoop abouthim at all. He stood tall and straight, his lips parted, his face turnedupwards, upwards as though he would gaze over the roof of the hotelbefore which they were standing, up to the skies.
"My God, Selingman!" he cried. "My God!"
The seconds passed. Then Draconmeyer suddenly took his companion by thearm.
"Come," he said, "let us take that first seat in the gardens there. Letus talk. Somehow or other, although I half counted upon this, I scarcelybelieved.... Let us sit down. Do you think it is known yet?"
"Very likely not," Selingman answered, as they crossed the road andentered the gardens. "Coulois found him in his rooms, seated at thewriting-table. It was all over, he declares, in ten seconds. He came tome--with the knife. He was on his way to the mountains to hide it."
They found a seat under a drooping lime tree. They could still see thehotel and the level stretch of road that led past the post-office andthe Club to Monaco. Draconmeyer sat with his eyes fixed upon the hotel,through which streams of people were still passing. One of theunder-managers was welcoming the newcomers from a recently arrivedtrain.
"You are right," he murmured. "Nothing is known yet. Very likelythey will not know until the valet goes to lay out his clothes fordinner.... Dead!"
Selingman, with one hand gripping the iron arm of the seat, watched hiscompanion's face with a sort of fascinated curiosity. There were beadsof perspiration upon Draconmeyer's forehead, but his expression, in itsway, was curious. There was no horror in his face, no fear, no shadow ofremorse. Some wholly different sentiment seemed to have transformed theman. He was younger, more virile. He seemed as though he could scarcelysit still.
"My friend," Selingman said, "I know that you are one of our children,that you are one of those who have seen the truth and worked steadfastlyfor the great cause with the heart of a patriot and the unswervingfidelity of a strong man. But tell me the honest truth. There issomething else in your life--you have some other feeling about this manHunterleys' death?"
Draconmeyer removed his eyes from the front of the hotel and turnedslowly towards his companion. There was a transfiguring smile upon hislips. Again he gave Selingman the impression of complete rejuvenation,of an elderly man suddenly transformed into something young andvigorous.
"There is something else, Selingman," he confessed. "This is the momentwhen I dare speak of it. I will tell you first of any living person.There is a woman over there whom I have set up as an idol, and beforewhose shrine I have worshipped. There is a woman over there who hasturned the dull paths of my life into a flowery way. I am a patriot, andI have worked for my country, Selingman, as you have worked. But I haveworked, also, that I might taste for once before I die the greatpassion. Don't stare at me, man! Remember I am not like you. You canlaugh your way through the world, with a kiss here and a bow there, aribbon to your lips at night, thrown to the winds in the morning. Ihaven't that sort of philosophy. Love doesn't come to me like that. It'sset in my heart amongst the great things. It's set there side by sidewith the greatest of all."
"His wife!" Selingman muttered.
"Are you so colossal a fool as only to have guessed it at this moment?"Draconmeyer continued contemptuously. "If he hadn't blundered across ourpath here, if he hadn't been my political enemy, I should still some dayhave taken him by the throat and killed him. You don't know what risks Ihave been running," he went on, with a sudden hoarseness. "In her heartshe half loves him still. If he hadn't been a fool, a prejudiced,over-conscientious, stiff-necked fool, I should have lost her within thelast twenty-four hours. I have had to fight and scheme as I have neverfought and schemed before, to keep them apart. I have had to pick my waythrough shoals innumerable, hold myself down when I have been burning togrip her by the wrists and tell her that all that a man could offer awoman was hers. Selingman, this sounds like nonsense, I suppose."
"No," Selingman murmured, "not nonsense, but it doesn't sound likeDraconmeyer."
"Well, it's finished," Draconmeyer declared, with a great sigh ofcontent. "You know now. I enter upon the final stage. I had only onefear. Jean Coulois has settled that for me. I wonder whether they know.It seems peaceful enough. No! Look over there," he added, gripping hiscompanion's arm. "Peter, the concierge, is whispering with the others.That is one of the managers there, out on the pavement, talking tothem."
Selingman pointed down the road towards Monaco.
"See!" he exclaimed. "There is a motor-car coming in a hurry. I fancythat the alarm must have been given."
A grey, heavily-built car came along at a great pace and swung round infront of the Hotel de Paris. The two men stood on the pavement andwatched. A tall, official-looking person, with black, upturnedmoustache, in somber uniform and a peaked cap, descended.
"The Commissioner of Police," Selingman whispered, "and that is a doctorwho has just gone in. He has been found!"
They crossed the road to the hotel. The concierge removed his hat asthey turned to enter. To all appearances he was unchanged--fat, florid,splendid. Draconmeyer stepped close to him.
"Has anything happened here, Peter?" he asked. "I saw the Commissionerof Police arrive in a great hurry."
The man hesitated. It was obvious then that he was disturbed. He lookedto the right and to the left. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, heseemed to make up his mind to tell the truth.
"It is the English gentleman, Sir Henry Hunterleys," he whispered. "Hehas been found stabbed to death in his room."
"Dead?" Draconmeyer demanded, insistently.
"Stone dead, sir," the concierge replied. "He was stabbed by some onewho stole in through the bathroom--they say that he couldn't ever havemoved again. The Commissioner of Police is upstairs. The ambulance isround at the back to take him off to the Mortuary."
Selingman suddenly seized the man by the arm. His eyes were fixed uponthe topmost step. Violet stood there, smiling down upon them. She waswearing a black and white gown, and a black hat with white ospreys. Itwas the hour of five o'clock tea and many people were passing in andout. She came gracefully down the steps. The two men remainedspeechless.
"I have been waiting for you, Mr. Draconmeyer,"
she remarked, smiling.
Draconmeyer remembered suddenly the packet of notes which he had been tofetch from the bank. He tried to speak but only faltered. Selingman hadremoved his hat but he, too, seemed incapable of coherent speech. Shelooked at them both, astonished.
"Whatever is the matter with you both?" she exclaimed. "Who is comingwith me to the Club? I decided to come this way round to see if I couldchange my luck. That underground passage depresses me."
Draconmeyer moved up a couple of steps. He was quite himself now, gravebut solicitous.
"Lady Hunterleys," he said, "I am sorry, but there has been a littleaccident. I am afraid that your husband has been hurt. If you will comeback to your room for a minute I will tell you about it."
All the colour died slowly from her face. She swayed a little, but whenDraconmeyer would have supported her she pushed him away.
"An accident?" she muttered. "I must go and see for myself."
She turned and re-entered the hotel swiftly. Draconmeyer caught her upin the hall.
"Lady Hunterleys," he begged earnestly, "please take my advice. I amyour friend, you know. I want you to go straight to your room. I willcome with you. I will explain to you then--"
"I am going to Henry," she interrupted, without even a glance towardshim. "I am going to my husband at once. I must see what has happened."
She rang the bell for the lift, which appeared almost immediately.Draconmeyer stepped in with her.
"Lady Hunterleys," he persisted, "I beg of you to do as I ask. Let metake you to your rooms. I will tell you all that has happened. Yourhusband will not be able to see you or speak with you."
"I shall not get out," she declared, when the lift boy, in obedience toDraconmeyer's imperative order, stopped at her floor. "If I may not goon in the lift, I shall walk up the stairs. I am going to my husband."
"He will not recognise you," Draconmeyer warned her. "I am very sorryindeed, Lady Hunterleys--I would spare you this shock if I could--butyou must be prepared for very serious things."
They had reached the next floor now. The boy opened the gate of the liftand she stepped out. She looked pitifully at Draconmeyer.
"You aren't going to tell me that he is dead?" she moaned.
"I am afraid he is," Draconmeyer assented.
She staggered across the landing, pushing him away from her. There werefour or five people standing outside the door of Hunterleys' apartment.She appealed to them.
"Let me go in at once," she ordered. "I am Lady Hunterleys."
"The door is locked," one of the men declared.
"Let me go in," she insisted.
She pushed them on one side and hammered at the door. They could hearvoices inside. In a moment it was opened. It was the Commissioner of thePolice who stood there--tall, severe, official.
"Madame?" he exclaimed.
"I am his wife!" she cried. "Let me in--let me in at once!"
She forced her way into the room. Something was lying on the bed,covered with a sheet. She looked at it and shrieked.
"Madame," the Commissioner begged, "pray compose yourself. A tragedy hashappened in this room--but we are not sure. Can you be brave, madame?"
"I can," she answered. "Of what are you not sure?"
The Commissioner turned down the sheet a few inches. A man's face wasvisible, a ghastly sight. She looked at it and shrieked hysterically.
"Is that your husband, madame?" the Commissioner asked quickly.
"Thank God, no!" she cried. "You are sure this is the man?" she went on,her voice shaking with fierce excitement. "There is no one else--hurt?No one else stabbed? This is the man they told me was my husband?"
"He was found there, sitting at your husband's table, madame," theCommissioner of Police assured her. "There is no one else."
She suddenly began to cry.
"It isn't Henry!" she sobbed, groping her way from the room. "Take medownstairs, please, some one."