CHAPTER V
THE LADY ON THE VERANDAH
No one was coming; Lady Gardiner dared to turn the key. The door opened,and she looked into the room beyond.
It was a cabin, of the same size as the others, and fitted up as astateroom, but furnished and decorated differently. The five which Katehad been shown yesterday were comfortable, but not particularlyluxurious, and she had wondered, since this was ostensibly a pleasuretrip, that beauty-loving Virginia had not thought it worth while to haveher own cabin, at least, made more dainty.
In the locked stateroom, whose secret Kate was violating, the berth washung with old brocaded silk of blue and silver, the curtains edged withcurious thick lace, yellowed by time. On the floor lay a beautifultiger-skin, covering it from end to end. A large fitted travelling-bagstood open on a cushioned seat, showing silver-topped bottles; and thewall on one side of the cabin was almost hidden with photographs andsketches which had been tacked up, over a low book-shelf, filled withvolumes in uniform binding of blue and gold. The photographs were ofplaces as well as people, and Kate had just identified the Valley of theShadow, dominated by the Chateau de la Roche, when a sudden sound senther out of the cabin and into the saloon, with her heart pounding and hernerves throbbing, in shamed fear of discovery.
She had just time to lock the door and pass on to that of her ownstateroom when Celestine appeared, carrying various small parcels. Shehad been sent to the yacht by her mistress to finish a few preparationsfor the voyage, and was surprised to see Lady Gardiner. Kate, however,was prepared with her story of the lost ring, which no doubt Celestinewould repeat to Virginia, and produced the jewel, saying that fortunatelyshe had found it on the floor of her cabin.
The maid had no suspicion, probably did not dream that the _Bella Cuba_had a secret to keep, and Lady Gardiner was rowed back to shore,confident that she had come safely out of the morning's adventure. Themystery, however, remained a mystery, except that Kate was certain now ofone thing which she had only suspected. There was to be a passenger onboard the _Bella Cuba_, whose expected presence had carefully beenconcealed from her. For this passenger elaborate preparations had beenmade. Everything behind that locked door was beautiful, but nothing wasnew. In the fleeting glimpse Kate had obtained before the sound ofCelestine's descending steps had sent her flying from her stoleninspection, she had been impressed with the feeling that the decorationsof the stateroom had all been taken from some other room, with the viewof surrounding its occupant with old associations.
Lady Gardiner hoped to see Loria before going back to the hotel, and anappointment had been made, to be kept as nearly to the time as possible;but he was not at Rumpelmayer's, the place of meeting, and, astonished athis defection, she was obliged to return to the Cap Martin without theexpected talk. In her room she found a line from the Italian. Sir RogerBroom had seen him at Rumpelmayer's, he explained, and had joined himthere. Fearing that Lady Gardiner might come in while they were together,he pleaded an engagement and went out, still accompanied by Broom. Now,Loria asked, was it possible that Miss Beverly's cousin suspectedanything? Had Lady Gardiner been imprudent and dropped the slightest hintof their new allegiance?
Kate had begun a note in reply, when Virginia knocked at her door,inquiring whether she were ready for luncheon. "Wait for me just a momentin the sitting-room," said the elder woman, and, her ideas confused inthe necessity for haste, she merely scrawled: "Don't think Sir Roger orany one suspects. Must have been an accident. Key worked well. I sawcabin. It is ready for a passenger. I would wager that that passenger isMadeleine Dalahaide. Probably we shall not have a word together inprivate now before we go, but will write you from every port, or wire ifnecessary and possible.--K. G."
This note she took down to the dining-room with her, and barely had achance to press it into Loria's palm as he bade her, with the others, arather formal farewell.
The Marchese was not one of those who went out to the yacht to see thelast of the beautiful American girl and her party. Virginia haddefinitely refused him now, and the old, pleasant intimacy had beenbrought to a sudden end. Nevertheless, he sent her flowers--a greatbasket of roses big enough to fill up half of her stateroom on the _BellaCuba_--which she promptly gave to Kate, with various other elaborateofferings, keeping for her own cabin only a small bunch of fragrantviolets sent by some one whose name she seemed to guess, although therewas no card.
So, at last, they were off; and no sad-faced girl in black had appeared.Besides the original party of four, there was only a little dark,keen-eyed English doctor, taken from his practice in Mentone. He lookedlike a man who would know how to keep a secret, and Kate wondered whetherthe mystery of the _Bella Cuba_ were a mystery to Dr. Grayle.
"Miss Dalahaide will come on board at Naples," Kate said to herself whenit became certain that they would stop there. "She is well known inMentone, no doubt, and didn't wish it to leak out that she was going onthis yachting trip."
But they arrived at Naples, sent off telegrams and letters, coaled, andleft without taking on another passenger. Always it seemed to Kate thatVirginia's manner showed suppressed nervous excitement. She was restless,capricious, took an interest in nothing for more than ten minutestogether. She had never been to Naples before, yet she appeared to grudgethe two or three hours they spent in driving about, and would not listento Kate's suggestion that they should stop long enough for a visit toPompeii.
"Next time," she said evasively. Altogether, she had not at all the airof a young woman yachting for pleasure, as of course she must be, sincewhat other object could the trip have? "I am in a hurry to see Cairo,"she replied, when Lady Gardiner inquired the reason of her impatience.
After all, they did not touch at Greece, but went straight on toAlexandria, the sea being so calmly unruffled that even Kate had noexcuse for illness. She might have been very happy in these long, lazy,blue-and-gold days, if George Trent had been his old self. But the frostwhich had withered the flower of his fancy for her that day in the Valleyof the Shadow, had never thawed. He read and smoked a great deal, leavingRoger Broom to amuse Virginia and Lady Gardiner.
Something went wrong with the engine the morning when they expected toreach Alexandria and Kate heard talk of a "heated bearing on thecrankshaft," which might have to be taken off, thus delaying them acouple of days. "But a couple of days!" she exclaimed in surprise."Surely you mean to stop longer than that!"
"We hadn't thought of it," answered Roger drily.
"Are you going up the Nile then?"
"No; the _Bella Cuba_ is rather big, you know."
"Not so big as the excursion boats that go, is she?"
"Virginia doesn't care about it, anyhow; she loves the sea for its ownsake, and hasn't come as much for sight-seeing as for a complete rest.While the repairs are being done we shall run up to Cairo by rail, stop anight at the Ghezireh Palace, and drive out for a look at the Sphinx andthe Pyramids."
"You really are the most extraordinary people!" ejaculated Kate. "I don'tknow what to make of you."
Roger smiled, and was silent. He had the air of thinking it of smallimportance whether or not Lady Gardiner, who had insisted upon coming onthis trip, knew what to make of her hosts and hostess. But, then, SirRoger Broom had never more than tolerated this most charming ofcompanions.
Kate had kept the master-key which Loria had given her, and had neverceased to hope for another chance to investigate the locked stateroom,which might, she told herself sometimes, have a hidden occupant. To besure, so far as she knew, no other passengers had come on board atNaples; but, then, they had all been away from the yacht for severalhours, and some one might have been smuggled into the cabin. With thisfancy lurking in her mind, she would have given much for a second peep;but she had never found a moment when it seemed safe to run the risk.
She could imagine no reason, if Madeleine Dalahaide had come on board atNaples, beyond spying-distance of old acquaintances, why she shouldremain hidden in the stateroom, unless, indeed, there were some truth inL
oria's suggestion that the yacht was bound for New Caledonia, to takethe girl out to her convict brother. In that case, perhaps, it mightconceivably be necessary to keep the captain and crew in ignorance of herpresence, lest they should gossip in port. Still, Virginia'srestlessness, her lack of interest in the beautiful places so easy tovisit, her desire to remain on board when the _Bella Cuba_ was in port,seemed to point to some peculiar motive under her indifference to allpleasures of the trip.
In Alexandria, the girl "did not see why they should pack up to stop anight in Cairo." What if the crankshaft could be repaired sooner thanthey supposed? Then they would be wasting time. But she was overruled,and just before sunset they drove up to one of the most beautiful hotelsin the world.
The evening chill was beginning to fall, yet many people still lingeredon the huge terrace overlooking the Nile, where the "winging" sails ofthe little boats were pink and golden as mother-o'-pearl, reflecting thecrimson glory of the sky. A woman sitting alone at a little table lookedup as they passed, and with a slight start. Virginia half stopped,staring almost rudely at the face which was lifted for a moment. But itwas only for a moment.
The woman, who was exceedingly handsome, of the most luscious Spanishtype of beauty, flushed under the American girl's intent gaze, drew up asable cape which had partly fallen from the shoulders of her white clothdress, and turned a resentful back.
"What a handsome creature, but awfully made up!" whispered Kate, who hadno mercy on her own sex.
Virginia did not answer. She walked on, looking as if she had awakenedfrom a dream.
At dinner that night, next to the party from the yacht, was a small tablelaid for one. It was unoccupied until they had half finished dinner; thenheads began suddenly to turn toward the door; people whispered, there wasa perceptible, though scarcely definable thrill of interest, and a tallwoman in sequined black tulle, glittering with diamonds, came slowly upthe room. She must have known that all eyes were upon her, yet sheappeared unconscious. Her lashes were cast down as she moved toward achair held obsequiously ready by a waiter at the little empty table, andtheir dusky length was not second even to Virginia's. As the newcomer satdown, she faced Roger Broom.
"That woman's face looks somehow familiar to me," he said, "yet I can'tthink where, if ever, I have seen it. I suppose it can only be a chanceresemblance to somebody or other."
Virginia opened her lips to speak, but closed them again hastily. Katethen threw a questioning glance her way, and saw that she had suddenlygrown pale. "I wish you or George would find out who she is," the girlsaid presently. "She is one of the handsomest women I ever saw. Ifpossible, I should like to know her."
"I can promise that you shall at least know her name," replied Roger,smiling. "It wouldn't be safe to say more." And, true to his word, anhour after dinner he came to the private drawing-room where Virginia andLady Gardiner sat, with the required information.
"The strange beauty is a Portuguese countess," he announced. "Her name isDe Mattos, and she is a widow, spending the winter here alone, except forher maid. She is much admired, especially by men, but apparently does notcare to make acquaintances; otherwise, as she seems to be a person whosename the gossips respect, your wish might perhaps have been gratified."
"Have you remembered yet where you saw her before?"
"I've remembered where I saw some one like her. But it is not the samewoman."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. The other was a blonde with Titian hair. And she has beendead for years."
Virginia said no more, and appeared to forget the Portuguese countess.But when Lady Gardiner complained of being tired, and went off to bed,that she might be fresh for sight-seeing next morning, also to write apuzzled letter to the Marchese Loria, Virginia remained. George Trent hadgone to a Cairene theatre, and she and Roger were alone together.
Scarcely had the door closed upon Kate Gardiner, when the girl sprang upfrom her chair, and before Roger knew what she meant to do, was sittingon a divan beside him, her hand on his sleeve.
"Roger," she exclaimed, "I thank you a thousand, thousand times forinsisting that I should come here."
"You haven't seen anything yet," he returned. "Thank me after to-morrow."
"It's the most wonderful thing in the world that we should have come,"she went on. "If we had employed the cleverest detectives in Paris andLondon they might never have discovered what chance, merest chance--ifthere is such a thing as chance--has put into our hands to-night."
"What are you talking about, dear child?" asked Roger.
"I'm talking about Liane Devereux, the actress that Maxime Dalahaide issupposed to have murdered. You've been very good, Roger. I've appreciatedit, for you never believed in his innocence. Now you must believe, inspite of yourself, since she is here, calling herself the Countess deMattos."
Roger stared at her in amazement. "But this is madness, dear," he said."Liane Devereux was murdered; whether Maxime Dalahaide or another was hermurderer, there is no possible doubt that she is dead. You can't know thestory as well as I thought you did, if you don't put that beyondquestioning."
"I tell you, Liane Devereux is in this house, and Providence sent me hereto see her. It's that which is beyond question."
"Did Madeleine Dalahaide show you the woman's picture?"
"Yes, two pictures; a photograph and an ivory miniature. She kept thembecause they were her brother's, just as she kept everything of his. Ilooked at them again and again, until I knew the features line by line. Ican't be mistaken. This is the same woman. There was an even deepermystery about that murder than Maxime Dalahaide's best friends guessed."
Roger Broom shrugged his shoulders with a despairing laugh. "Forlight-hearted trampling on established facts, give me an American girl!"he exclaimed. "A woman is murdered, her body found, identified, buried.Four or five years afterward another woman appears, a brunette, whileNumber One was blonde. Number One, a Frenchwoman, was murdered in Paris;Number Two, a Portuguese, is spending the winter in Cairo. There isabsolutely nothing to link these women together except a resemblance offeature, which, though strong, is not convincing even to a man who sawNumber One on the stage many times. Yet here comes a maiden from theStates, who was in the schoolroom in her own country when Number One wasmurdered, and insists, because she has seen a portrait or two, that LianeDevereux, the dead actress, and the Countess de Mattos are one and thesame."
"I know it sounds childish," admitted Virginia, with unwonted meekness;"nevertheless, I'm absolutely sure. I'd stake my life on it, if it werenecessary."
"How do you proceed to explain the identification and burial of LianeDevereux's body if she is now alive in Cairo?"
"I don't pretend to explain--yet. There was a mistake--that's all I cansay."
"Liane Devereux was too well known for that to be possible. Besides, ifthere had been such a mistake, another woman, murdered and buried in herplace, must have been missing. As a matter of fact, no other woman wasmissing."
"You mean no other woman's disappearance was discovered."
"You're incorrigible! I know you're wrong; but, admitting for the sake ofargument that you might be right, what use could you make of thismarvellous private information, supplied to your brain only? If theCountess de Mattos is really Liane Devereux, come to life, one might besure that a woman clever enough to plan from the beginning so astoundingan affair would be too clever to leave any tracks behind her."
"Yes, that is one of the difficulties," said Virginia. "Only somehow wemust get over it."
"I hope, my dear free-lance detective, that you aren't plotting to accusethe Countess to her face, and have a dramatic scene in the hall of theGhezireh Palace?"
"I don't know yet what to do," the girl answered slowly. "But I don'twant to leave Cairo until after we've done something."
"Believe me, there's nothing to do. We are on a wild-goose chase as itis; don't let's complicate things by a suit for slander just as it'sbegun. My advice is, dear, put this mad idea out of your head, an
d let'sget on about our business as quickly as we can--as quickly as youyourself wanted to do a few hours ago."
"Then I'm sorry I can't take your advice," said Virginia. "I'm growingsuperstitious. I believe that I was brought here for a particularpurpose, and I don't mean to go until, in some way, I've accomplishedthat purpose."
Roger sighed, and said no more. He had exhausted his stock of arguments;he knew Virginia almost as well as he loved her. He had promisedcooeperation; and though there had been no bargaining, she had voluntarilyled him to hope for a reward which, to him, was beyond any otherhappiness the world might hold. Therefore he could do nothing but bow tothe inevitable, and await developments, which meant, with a girl likeVirginia Beverly, expecting the unexpected.
* * * * *
Suddenly in the night Virginia sat up in bed and exclaimed aloud: "Oh, ifI could!" Kate Gardiner, in a room adjoining, heard her, and supposedthat she was talking in her sleep. But the truth was that a plan had atthat instant sprung fully armed from her brain, like Minerva from thehead of Jove; a plan so daring that the bare thought was an electricshock.
She could not sleep after its conception, but lay tossing and tinglinguntil it was time to get up. Every moment would be long now until themachinery could be set in motion, and she bathed and dressed hastily,having long ago ceased actively to miss Celestine's lost ministrations.
There was no sound in the next room. Kate was not yet awake, evidently;and so, as she took quite two hours for dressing and beautifying, itwould be foolish to wait for her. Virginia went downstairs, looking aboutin vain for Roger or George, and stepped out on to the wide verandah, fora look at the Nile by morning light. To her joy the beautiful Portuguesecountess was there, breakfasting alone, with a yellow-covered Frenchnovel open on the little table before her. Virginia instantly decidedthat she would also breakfast on the verandah, and as near to theCountess as possible.
As the American girl's pale blue serge rustled its silk lining along thefloor, the Portuguese woman raised her eyes from the novel she wasreading as she sipped her coffee. The eyes had appeared almost black inthe evening; now Virginia saw that they were a curious, greenish gray,and her heart gave a leap, for the eyes of Liane Devereux, in the paintedivory miniature, had been gray.
Now or never, Virginia said to herself, was the time to begin thecampaign. She seized the tide of fortune at its flood, and spoke inEnglish, making the most of the pretty, drawling Southern accent of theState after which she had been named, because American girls wereprivileged to be eccentric.
"Good morning," she said. "Oh, I do hope you understand my language,because I want to tell you something."
The green-gray eyes of the Countess shone keenly between their heavyblack fringes during a silent moment of inspection, which must have shownher Virginia divinely young, and childishly innocent of guile. At the endof the moment she smiled.
"Yes, I understand English, and speak it a little," she responded, with acharming accent, and in a voice musical but unexpectedly deep. "You areAmerican, is it not? What have you to tell me--that we have met before,somewhere?"
At this--or Virginia imagined it--there came again a steely flash fromthe black lashes. "Oh, no," said the girl hurriedly. "I never saw youuntil yesterday. What I want to tell you is, that I hope you will forgiveme for staring at you as I did then. I was afraid you'd think me rude.But I just couldn't help it, you are so beautiful. I adore beauty. Youcan be sure now I'm American, can't you? for nobody but an American girlwould say such things to a perfect stranger. I'm glad I _am_ American,for if I didn't speak I don't see exactly how I should get to know you.And I want to know you very much. I made my cousin, Sir Roger Broom--he'sEnglish, though I'm American--ask who you were, so I heard your name.Mine is Virginia Beverly. Now we're introduced, aren't we?"
The Countess laughed and looked pleased. "I have seen your name in thejournals," she said--"the journals of society all over the world, thatone reads in hotels when one has nothing better to do, is it not? Theytold the truth in one thing, for they said that you were _tres belle_.And you have bought the yacht of a Spanish gentleman, whom I have known alittle. Yes, I remember it was a Miss Virginia Beverly, for it is not aname to forget; and I love yachting."
By this time, Virginia had ordered her breakfast and received it, but shewas far too excited to make more than a pretense at eating. It was almostas if the Countess de Mattos were playing into her hands. It seemed toogood to be true. She was afraid that something would happen to ruin all;that she would lose her head, and by her precipitancy put the other onher guard; yet the opportunity was too admirable to be entirelyneglected.
"If you like yachting, it would be nice if you could come and have aday's run with us," said the girl. "The _Bella Cuba_ is at Alexandria,and we should all love taking you. My cousin and my half-brother, GeorgeTrent, couldn't talk of anything but you last night. Perhaps, later, wemight arrange it, if the railway journey both ways wouldn't bore you."
"On the contrary, I should be charmed," replied the Countess. Sheflushed, and her eyes brightened. Virginia looked at her admiringly, yetsharply, and said to herself: "If that rich, dark complexion of yours ismake-up--as it must be to prove my theory right--then it's the cleverestmake-up that any woman ever had as a disguise."
At this moment Sir Roger Broom and George Trent came out on to theverandah together, both looking very much surprised to see Virginia inconversation with the Countess de Mattos.
"Can she have said anything?" Roger thought quickly. But the calmexpression of the beautiful, dark face was in itself an answer to hissilent question.
The two men strolled up to Virginia, who asked and received permissionfrom the Countess to introduce her brother and cousin; and soon they weretalking as if they had known each other for days instead of moments.
The Portuguese beauty was distinctly ingratiating in her manner to allthree, so much so that Roger became thoughtful. He was more certain thanever, if that were possible, that this woman was not Liane Devereux, forthe voice was many tones deeper, and the Countess spoke English with anaccent that was not at all French.
It seemed to him that no woman could disguise herself socompletely--face, voice, mannerisms, accent--no matter how clever shemight be; besides, Virginia's idea was ridiculous. But he began to wonderwhether the lovely Portuguese had a right to her title, or, if she had,whether it were as well gilded as her charming frocks and her residenceat this expensive hotel would suggest at first sight.
It seemed to him that she caught too readily at new acquaintances for arich and haughty daughter of Portuguese aristocracy, and though hebelieved that he understood, only too well, Virginia's motive forcultivating a friendship, he was inclined to fear that the girl might bevictimized by an adventuress.
The Countess de Mattos was too handsome and too striking not to have beenremarked in Cairo, no matter how quietly she might live at the GhezirehPalace Hotel, and he determined to make inquiries of some officers whomhe knew there.
At all events, plans for the present were changed. Instead of a day ortwo in Cairo they were to stay on indefinitely. George, as well as Roger,was taken into the secret, but Lady Gardiner was told only the fact. Shewas pleased at first, for she was fond of Cairo, and had never had achance to stop there in luxury before. She did not, however, like theCountess de Mattos, who was much too handsome to be acceptable to her;and before the slower and more prudent Roger had learnt anything, she wasprimed with all the gossip of the hotel regarding the Portuguese beauty.There was a certain Mrs. Maitland-Fox at the Ghezireh Palace, whom LadyGardiner had met before, and from her she gathered the crumbs of gossipwith which she immediately afterward regaled Virginia.
"They" said that the Countess de Mattos, although she might really be acountess (and there were those who pretended to vouch for this), hadscarcely a penny. She traded on her beauty and the lovely clothes withwhich some trusting milliner must have supplied her, to pick up rich orinfluential friends, from whom she was certain
to extort money in someway or another. And it was Mrs. Maitland-Fox's advice that Miss Beverlyshould be warned to beware of the beautiful lady.
Among his friends, Roger heard something of the same sort, and though hewas bound to admit that it was all very vague, he begged Virginia toabandon a forlorn hope, and let the Portuguese woman alone.
"If she were really a Portuguese woman she might vanish from before myeyes, for all I should care," obstinately returned the girl. "But she isLiane Devereux, and if she breathed poison I wouldn't let her go till Ihad torn out her secret."
"How do you mean to set about doing that?" demanded Roger.
"That is _my_ secret," said Virginia. "Only let me alone and don't thwartme, or you'll spoil everything."
Roger waited, expectant and apprehensive. He had not to wait long.