CHAPTER XXVIII
THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE
There followed a few minutes of somewhat curious silence. At the firstsound of the voice of the man who had made so startling an appearance intheir midst, a cry, only half suppressed, had broken from Madame deMelbain's lips. She had moved impulsively a little forward; the moon,visible now from over the tree tops, was shining faintly upon herabsolutely colourless face and dilated eyes. For some reason she seemedterror-stricken, both she and Louise, who was clinging now to her arm.Neither of them seemed even to have glanced at the cowering figure of theman, who had relapsed now into a venomous silence. Both of them weregazing at his captor, and upon their faces was the strangest expressionwhich Wrayson had ever seen on any human features. It was as though theystood upon the edge of the world and peered downwards, into the forbiddendepths; as though they suddenly found themselves in the presence of athing so wonderful that thought and speech alike were chained. Wraysoninvoluntarily followed the direction of their rapt gaze. The strangercertainly presented a somewhat formidable appearance. He was standingupon slightly higher ground, and the massive proportions of his tall,powerful figure stood out with almost startling distinctness against theempty background. His face was half in the shadow, yet it seemed toWrayson that some touch of the mystery which was quivering in the drawnface of the two women was also reflected in his dimly seen features.Something indefinable was in the air, something so mysterious andwonderful, that voices seemed stricken dumb, and life itself suspended.An owl flew slowly out from the wood with ponderous flapping of wings,and sailed over their heads. Every one started: Madame de Melbain gave ahalf-stifled shriek. The strain was over. Louise and she were halfsobbing now in one another's arms.
"I will leave this fellow to be dealt with as the owners of the chateaumay direct," the stranger said stiffly, turning to Wrayson. "You can tellthem all that we know about him."
He turned on his heel, but the Baron laid his hand upon his shoulder andpeered into his face inquisitively.
"_We_ should like to know," he said, "whom we have to thank for thecapture of this intruder!"
"I am a stranger here, and to all of you," was the quiet answer. "You oweme no thanks. I have seen something of this fellow before," he added,pointing to his captive, who was now standing sullenly in the centre ofthe group. "I felt sure that he was up to no good, and I watched him."
For the first time the fair-haired little tourist, who had been draggedso submissively into their midst, suffered a gleam of intelligence toappear in his face. He changed his position so that he could see hiscaptor better.
"Ah!" he muttered, "you have seen me before, eh? And I you, perhaps! Letme think! Was it--"
Wrayson's friend leaned a little forwards, and with the careless ease ofone flicking away a fly, he struck the speaker with the back of his handacross the face. The blow was not a particularly severe one, but itsvictim collapsed upon the turf.
"Look here," his assailant said, standing for a moment over him, "you cango on and finish your sentence if you like. I only want to warn you, thatif you do, I will break every bone in your body, one by one, the nexttime we meet. Go on, if you think it worth while."
The man on the ground was dumb, because he was afraid. But the samethought presented itself to all of them. The Baron, who was least of allaffected, expressed it.
"Perhaps, sir," he said, "you will not object to telling me--the Baron deCourcelles--whom we have to thank for the discovery of this--intruder!"
Wrayson's friend edged a little away. There was no response in his mannerto the courtesy with which the Baron had sought to introduce himself.
"You have nothing to thank me for," he said shortly. "My name would bequite unknown to you, and I am leaving this part of the world at once.Permit me to wish you good evening!"
He had already turned on his heel when Madame de Melbain's voicearrested him. Clear and peremptory, the first words which had passed herlips since the surprise had come to them, seemed somehow to introduce anew note into an atmosphere from which an element of tragedy had neverbeen lacking.
"Please stop!"
He turned and faced her with obvious unwillingness. She stretched out herhand as though forbidding him to go, but addressed at the same time thetwo men, apparently gamekeepers, who had suddenly emerged from the wood.
"Monsieur Robert," she said, "we have caught this man trespassing in thewoods here, notwithstanding the precautions which I understood you hadtaken. Take him away at once, if you please. I trust that you will beable to hand him over to the gendarmes."
Monsieur Robert, the steward of the estates, an elderly man, whose facewas twitching with anxiety, stepped forward with a low bow.
"Madame," he said, "we had word of this intrusion. We were even now uponthe track of this ruffian. There was another, also, who climbed thewall--ah! I see him! The Englishman there!"
"He is our friend," Madame de Melbain said. "You must not interferewith him."
"As Madame wills! Come, you rascal," he added, gripping his prisoner bythe shoulder. "We will show you what it means to climb over walls andtrespass on the estate of Madame la Baronne. Come then!"
The intruder accepted the situation with the most philosophic calm. Onlyone remark he ventured to make as he was led off.
"It is not hospitable, this! I only wished to see the chateau bymoonlight!"
Wrayson's fellow guest at the _Lion d'Or_ turned to follow them.
"The fellow might try to escape," he muttered; but again Madame deMelbain called to him.
"You must not go away," she said, "yet!"
Then she moved forward with smooth, deliberate footsteps, yet withsomething almost supernatural in her white face and set, dilated eyes. Itwas as though she were looking once more through the windows of theworld, as though she could see the figures of dead men playing once moretheir part in the game of life. And she looked always at the Englishman.
"Listen," she said, "there is something about you, sir, which I do notunderstand. Who are you, and where do you come from?"
He made no answer. Only he held out his hand as though to keep her away,and drew a little further back.
"You shall not escape," she continued, the words leaving her lips with asort of staccato incisiveness, crisp and emotional. "No! you are here,and you shall answer. Who are you who come here to mock us all; becauseit is a dead man who speaks with your voice, and looks with your eyes?You will not dare to say that you are Duncan Fitzmaurice!"
The figure in the shadows seemed to loom larger and larger. He was nolonger shrinking away.
"I know nothing of the man of whom you speak!" he declared. "I am awanderer. I have no name and no home."
Madame de Melbain reeled and would have fallen. Then for a moment eventsseemed to leap forward. White and fainting, she lay in the arms of theman who had sprung to her succour, yet through her half-opened eyes thereflashed a strange and wonderful light--a light of passionate and amazingcontent. He held her, almost roughly, for several moments, yet his lipswere pressed to hers with a tenderness almost indescribable. No one ofthe little group moved. Wrayson felt simply that events, impossible forhim to understand, had marched too quickly for him. He stood like a manin a dream, whose limbs are rigid, whose brain alone is working. And theothers, too, seemed to have become part of a silent and wonderfultableau. For years after Wrayson carried with him the memory of those fewminutes,--the perfume from the woods, faint but penetrating; the shadowylight, the passionate faces of the man and the woman, the woman yieldingto a beautiful dream, and the man to a moment of divine madness.Movement, when it came, came from the principal actors in that wonderfulscene. Madame de Melbain was alone, supported in Louise's arms, theEnglishman's heavy footsteps were already audible, crashing through theundergrowth. Louise pointed to the wood and called out to Wrayson:
"Follow him! Don't let him out of your sight! Quick!"
Wrayson turned and sped down the avenue. When he reached the wall, hestood there and waited. Presentl
y Duncan came crashing through thewood and vaulted the wall. Wrayson met him in the middle of the hardwhite road.
"We will walk back to the _Lion d'Or_ together," he said calmly, "I havea few things to say to you!"