stillraged. None of us spoke. Three glowing cigars alone indicated ourwhereabouts.
Whether or not it was the stiff brandy-and-soda I had had in thesmoking-room, I know not, but I suddenly realised that I was becomingcuriously drowsy. I tried to keep awake. My eyelids felt like lead.They were smarting, too. Presently I was aware that something glowingred had fallen to the ground. Afterwards I came to know it had beenFaulkner's cigar.
I do not know what happened immediately afterwards. My mind suddenlybecame a complete blank.
At last, hours afterwards, I suppose, I slowly struggled back toconsciousness.
Where was I?
The room, and all in it, was strange to me. All was utterly unfamiliar.My head ached very badly. My back and limbs were stiff. I got off thesofa where I had lain asleep, scrambled to my feet, and looked about me.At once I saw Faulkner. He was asleep still, in a most uncomfortableattitude, in a big leather armchair. His mouth was wide open.
A glance out of the window showed me that the house we were in was inthe open country. Already it was broad daylight, and a perfect calm hadsucceeded the storm of the previous night. But had it been the previousnight? I supposed so. Signs of the storm were still visibleeverywhere--trees blown down and lying on their sides, branches andgreat limbs lying about. The country all around was densely wooded.Look in what direction I would, only trees, grass fields and mountainswere visible. There was not a house in sight; not a cottage; not a hut.
I went over to Faulkner, and shook him roughly. He was still sleepingsoundly, and it took me some minutes to arouse him into consciousness.
His first observation when at last fully awake, was characteristic ofthe young man--
"Where, in Heaven's name, am I?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE PERFUME.
I dashed across to the door. It was locked. "Now tell me, what do youmake of it?" Faulkner asked, when he had looked about the unfamiliarroom and stared blankly out of the window.
"The solution seems pretty obvious," I said. "We've been drugged, or insome way made unconscious last night in Paulton's car, and driven here.I distinctly remember trying to keep awake. You gave me that cigar Ismoked. Was it one of your own?"
He paused, then said--
"Now I come to think of it, Ashton, I remember noticing I had threecigars in the case I left in the pocket of my overcoat when I hung it inthe cloakroom. There were only two when I pulled the case out in thecar. I wondered then if the cloakroom attendant had helped himself.Paulton was the first to light up, you may remember, and he offered uscigars, whereupon I said I had some, and I gave you one of mine--one ofthe two. It struck me that my cigar had rather a peculiar flavour, butafter a while it got all right. I believe those weeds must have beenslipped into my case by Paulton and my own cigars removed. The ones wesmoked last night were drugged, that I will swear."
I pulled out my watch.
"What time do you make it?" I asked. "My watch has stopped."
He produced his own and glanced at it.
"So has mine," he said. "It stopped at five minutes to four."
We both sat in silence for some moments. Obviously there was nothing tobe done but to wait for somebody to come. The door was locked, therewas no bell in the room, and the room was on an upper floor.
Over an hour must have passed, and we had endeavoured to take ourbearings.
From what we could see of the place from the high up window, it was ahuge rambling old chateau with round turrets, and slated roofs,overlooking a large sloping park in the midst of picturesque mountains,many of which were still tipped with snow. The situation was perfect,but it was in a remote, lonely spot, without another house in sight.
In the front was a long double colonnade with a terrace which commandeda fine vista down the valley. The style was that of Louis XV, as indeedwas the furniture of the room, and there were several old paintings andworks of art in the apartment.
It was a huge grim place, which seemed to be half a prison, half afortress--a place wherein dwelt the ghosts of a glorious long-forgottenpast. There was an air of neglect and decay about its time-mellowedcourt-yard, some of the walls of which were half-hidden by ivy. One ofthe round towers indeed was roofless, while what had once been anItalian flower-bed was now but a wilderness of weeds.
Outside the sun shone brightly, and, from its position, we concluded thehour must be nearly noon. Then, all at once we simultaneously caughtthe sound of footsteps. Some one was coming very softly apparently,along a carpeted passage outside the door. I went across to the sofa,lay down, and pretended to be asleep, Faulkner following my example,lying back in the big chair. At the door the footsteps stopped. Therewas a pause. Then a key was inserted into the lock almost noiselessly,the lock clicked, the handle turned, and the door was pushed open alittle way.
Somebody bent over me. I breathed heavily, in pretence of sleep. Thefootsteps moved away, and, as I parted my eyelids slightly, I saw awoman--quite a young girl. She had her back to me and was bending overFaulkner apparently to ascertain if he too, were asleep. Acting upon asudden impulse I sprang from the sofa, ran to the door, slammed it, andstood with my back to it.
To my surprise the girl looked at me quite calmly.
"I knew you would do that m'sieur," she said, and her voice, though shespoke with a marked French accent, was very pleasant. "Did you thinkthat I supposed you both were asleep? Ah, non, your friend here is wideawake, though he too keeps his eyes shut and his mouth open."
The girl was quite pretty, about eighteen I judged, refined inappearance, with large, innocent brown eyes, dark eyelashes andeyebrows, and auburn hair that turned to shining gold as the sun's rays,entering at the window, touched it.
As she stopped speaking, Faulkner opened his eyes, sat up, and stared ather with undisguised admiration. Then, as the absurdity of thesituation struck us, we both laughed.
"Whoever you are," I said, trying to speak seriously, though, under thecircumstances, and with a pretty girl staring into my face, with anexpression in her eyes that was partly of amusement and partly mockery,I found it hard to do so. "Whoever you are, I should really like anexplanation."
"Explanation of what?"
"I want to know why we have been brought here--what place this is, andwho had the cool impertinence to lock us in here."
"Oh, _I_ had the cool impertinence to lock you in," she answered,smiling.
"You! And who are you? And whose house is this?"
"This is the Chateau d'Uzerche. It belongs to the Baronne de Coudron.I am the Baronne's niece."
"The Chateau d'Uzerche--eh?"
I could not for the moment, think of anything else to say. The girlspoke quite naturally, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
"I am going to bring your dejeuner in a minute," she said, drawing downthe blinds to keep out the sun. "Will you both give me your word youwon't leave this room if I leave the door unlocked? Please do--for mysake."
She looked so captivating as she said this, her voice was so soft, andaltogether she seemed so charming, that Faulkner at once answered thathe had not the least desire to leave the room if she would promise tocome back as quickly as possible, and to stay a little while.
"Then you will promise?" she asked, her big eyes set on his.
"How foolish! Why?" I asked, interrupting. "Well," she replied. "Ifyou will remain here I will bring you a visitor."
"A visitor?"
"Yes," she laughed. "Somebody you know."
"Who?"
"A great friend of yours."
I looked at her puzzled.
"A friend--man or woman?"
"Female," she assured us with a charming accent. "Your friendMademoiselle Thorold."
"Vera!" I gasped. "Is she here?"
"Yes," was her reply. "She is here."
How well Vera knew my character when she told me that day I was"susceptible." I think I am dreadfully so. The look in those greatbrown eyes gazing into m
ine seemed to weaken my will until I had toanswer almost sulkily--
"I suppose I must. Yes, I--well, I'll promise for the present anyhow,"I said.
"Not to leave this room before my return?" she said.
"Not to leave this room before you return," I repeated.
Then she left us, and we sat looking at each other like a pair of fools.
"Well," Faulkner said. "If you can be rude to a pretty girl like that,Ashton, I can't, and I don't intend to be. Besides, if Vera is here,Gladys may be here also!"
"I thought you said you are engaged to be married?"
"I did. And I am. But I don't see why, for that reason, you need callme a fool for being ordinarily polite to another woman, or to any woman,especially if we