fallen low in thesocial scale, and was entirely under the influence and control ofMalsano, who utilised his services for his own ends and profit. Heproved to be the means of carrying out the first portion of thevendetta, by shooting Sir Henry at the time of the burglary atAldborough Park. The bitterness of the feud was increased by theyouthful folly of Sir Henry, who, in a spirit of devilment, and with theaid of a native, succeeded in meeting the gipsy girl again. The gipsymother discovered them, and there was a frenzied scene of rage, thewoman cursing the young man with all the fierceness of her race.
Sir Henry treated the matter lightly, until, years afterwards, he wasmade aware of the fact that the incident had not closed, and thatvengeance was on his track. The woman, on her death-bed, had extracteda willing vow from her husband, Malsano, that he would continue thevendetta to the bitter end.
The tortuous workings of the mind of this abnormal man led him to carryout his purpose in his own strange way. In his fiendish efforts, he haddragged down a girl, Gilda Tempest, the daughter of another victim ofhis criminal nature. Noble by nature, and beautiful by disposition,this handsome young woman was doomed to a life of degradation and crime.Her last act was to sacrifice her life for the man she loved with thestrange passion of a warm nature.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
CONCLUSION.
Malsano's revenge was nearly complete. Raife was now hopelesslycompromised. Creeping stealthily along a wide corridor, he entered thelibrary, and, with all the skill of a practised hand, proceeded to riflea bureau, from which he extracted notes and gold. Revelling in theweird excitement of the debasing act, he ascended the staircase andopened the door of a bedroom. It was a large room, and he wasconfronted by a subtle perfume which was familiar to him. Where had hemet that perfume before? He stood on the threshold and hesitated toperpetrate a further dastardly deed by entering the room. It wasevidently a woman's room. Raife was not acting of his own volition. Astrange impulse controlled him, and he was not master of his actions.There was a soft light diffused, revealing a large, four-poster bed,curtained in pale-tinted dimity. He would have thrashed another man tothe point of death for such an action as he was now guilty of. Heapproached the bed, and pulling aside the curtain, was stricken withhorror to behold his wife--Hilda--sleeping peacefully. He stoodspellbound, unable to move. A ghastly look of terror and remorse spreadover his face. His handsome features were distorted, and his athleticframe convulsed with emotion. The events of the last year crowded hismind in a tornado of shame. Each second was an eternity of mentalsuffering. Hilda lay there sleeping, her beautiful cheeks suffused witha delicate glow. Her soft brown hair fell in clusters, enhancing thecharm of this picture of exquisite innocence. Raife's mind was in astate of hideous torture. Slowly and softly he withdrew from the room,and descended the staircase to the library. He approached the bureau--his wife's bureau--that he had ransacked and restored the stolen money.With bowed head he crossed the big hall, dazed and scarcely realisinghis actions. Softly he opened the front door and passed out into thenight.
Before Mr Reginald Pomeroy Muirhead returned to the United States hefulfilled his compact, and Hilda was endowed with a substantial fortune.The stress of events had told heavily on her and Raife's mother, and,yielding to Hilda's persuasion, she had rented the furnished mansion inthe Avenue des Champs Elysees. She had hoped by means of such adistraction to take their minds off the great trouble.
Detective-Inspector Herrion was a forceful man, and he had set himselfthe task of finding Sir Raife, the missing baronet, and he haddetermined to run Malsano to earth. On the day when he had let Lesigneslip through his fingers at Raife's flat in the Rue Lafayette, Herrionhad a suspicion that he had been tricked by the innocent-looking oldlady, who appeared to be so busy dusting out the apartment. The flat ofMonsieur Henri Vachelle was, therefore, kept under observation, butMalsano was far too wily a criminal to be trapped easily, and the flatwas deserted, and the gang found fresh quarters. Herrion was sitting inhis room at the obscure little hotel that he affected, when thetelephone bell rang, and, removing the receiver, he took a message tothe effect that, if he would call at the prefecture, there was importantnews awaiting him.
Hastily seizing his cap he started off. He was met at the entrance by asergeant, who said: "Quick, Mr Herrion, I think we have found yourmissing `Baron.' Will you come with me to the Avenue des ChampsElysees?"
A taxi was in waiting, and they entered together. As the car spedtowards the famous avenue, the sergeant told Herrion: "We have receiveda letter, an anonymous letter, saying that a burglary will be committedto-night. The house is surrounded, and it is believed that it is thegang of that old scoundrel, Malsano. The gang is in force, and thecunning old reprobate has chosen the house of the Lady Remington, who isthe wife of your missing `Baron.'"
Herrion was agitated, a weakness the astute detective-inspector seldomallowed himself to indulge in. With a smile of satisfaction the littleman remarked: "If that man Malsano is in this affair, for heaven's sakedon't let him escape. It looks as if we are in for a breezy time. Ihave no power here, and I can only look on. Mind, the men of Malsano'sgang do not hesitate to shoot. Shoot on the least suspicion. Shootfirst, not to kill, only to maim."
The gendarme looked at Herrion, raising his eyebrows as he said:"Monsieur Herrion, we shall not be unprepared, and we are not so tenderwith our criminals as you gentlemen across the Channel. We, too, have ascore to settle with this Malsano. And there is that mysterious woman,who seems to be all over Europe at the same time. I have seen her. Mafoi! She is clever and beautiful, too."
Herrion replied: "Yes, that is the woman who is responsible for SirRaife Remington's downfall. She is dangerous, but she is the decoy andthe tool of that doctor fellow Malsano."
The taxi stopped at a corner of a street, and they alighted. Seven oreight men were secreted in doorways, and the sergeant approached eachone separately and gave them whispered instructions. Herrion's positionwas quite unofficial, but his popularity with the police of Paris hadmade it possible for him to be present and to participate in the"round-up," or coup.
The author of the anonymous letter to the Paris police was DoctorMalsano. Raife had ceased to be useful, and his influence over Gildawas conflicting with the doctor's plans, and he must be sacrificed.Murder was only resorted to by this criminal scoundrel when all elsefailed. It would be a triumph to secure Raife's conviction and sentenceto a long term of imprisonment. The terms of the vendetta would becarried out when this hated British aristocrat was a convicted felon.
In a dazed state Raife left the mansion and walked into the night.Gilda, from her point of vantage, had watched and waited in a state ofanxiety from the time when her lover had made his perilous climb alongthe gutter-pipe to the window through which he had effected his entry.She had felt, during the long wait until he reappeared, that she wouldwillingly have changed places. She was accustomed to these hazardousundertakings, and was inured to the disgrace of it.
Malsano and Denoir watched at a distance, each malignantly confident oftheir revenge.
A green light flickered in the Avenue, and two cars from oppositedirections dashed up to the house that Raife had just left. Fourgendarmes alighted from each car. At the same time the front door ofthe mansion was opened, and two men-servants _en deshabille_ appeared.Raife was called to his senses, alert after the dazed condition whichfollowed the sight of his wife, lying asleep on the bed in the roomwhich he had entered as a common burglar. Two gendarmes made a dash athim. He drew his revolver, but hesitated to fire. He was a burglar,but some sense that remained in him prevented him from shooting agendarme who was only doing his duty. A piercing shriek rang throughthe night. The gendarme, who felt he was threatened and in danger,fired at Raife. From a doorway where Gilda had watched the commotion,she rushed with an astounding swiftness, and was in front of Raifebefore that shot was fired. Two gendarmes had thrown themselves uponRaife, but, with a violent effort, he threw them off and flung hisre
volver far into the roadway. He dashed to Gilda and caught her in hisarms, kissing her with a fierce passion. "Gilda! Speak to me, Gilda!Why did you try to save me? My life is of no account and yours is soprecious."
The police stood around, inert, as the dying girl, in short sentences,gasped her last message. She told him of the doctor's treachery. Howhe had betrayed Raife to the police, and that she had only learnt of theplot when it was too late to stave off the disaster. "They did not tellme until you had entered the house. It was then too late."
Gilda's last words were: "Raife, I--I was not altogether bad. I lovedyou dearly, Raife. Your father killed my father. There was the feud--the vendetta, and we were made to suffer. I should have made you a goodand honest wife if we could have escaped the evil influence. God haswilled it otherwise. Good-bye, dearest. Kiss me.