Part 12 (1/2)
I glanced at the boots she was wearing, and saw that they were small dark-brown ones but with those same Louis XV heels that had left such tell-tale traces.
”Is your secret such a terrible one that you fear to entrust it to me?”
I asked gravely after a brief pause.
”You couldn't understand--you couldn't believe the real facts even if I told you,” was her reply. ”Besides, this refusal of the woman Lejeune prevents me knowing the real truth myself. She intends that I shall suffer--that I shall pay the penalty of the crime of another. She vowed revenge and, alas!” she sighed, ”she has it now.”
”But she's quite a common person,” I remarked, for knowing the Continent as I did, and being some thing of a cosmopolitan, I put her down as of the lower cla.s.s.
”It is her foreign ill-breeding that renders her such a bitter enemy.
She has no pity and no remorse--indeed what Frenchwoman has?”
”Then I was a fool to let her escape! Had I known, I would have given the pair into the detective's hands and faced the worst.”
”And by so doing you would have caused my death!” was her low remark in a hard strained voice. We had climbed the hill and arrived at the edge of Geddington Chase, where we halted at the old weather-worn stile which gave entrance to the wood.
”Yet by allowing them to escape it seems that I have unwittingly been their accessory!” I remarked. ”You do not antic.i.p.ate that this woman Lejeune will reveal the truth and thus place you in a position of safety. Therefore, why should we s.h.i.+eld her?”
”I feel sure she will not--now that she is friendly with Joseph Logan.”
”You mean the man who was with you at early morning?”
She nodded in the affirmative, and with a sigh declared: ”The interests of the pair are entirely identical. Even if she wished to reveal what she knew, he would prevent her. I never antic.i.p.ated that they would become acquainted and thus unite their evil intentions against myself!”
”Against you?” I cried. ”Why?”
”It is an intrigue--a vile and ingenious plot against myself and certain persons who are innocent and unoffending. Ah! If you only knew the woman Lejeune as I have reason to know her, you would not ask such a question. You, too, would be well aware that the man or woman unfortunate enough to fall into her cunningly-devised pitfalls may at once abandon all hope of the future--for death alone can release them from the bond.” I failed to understand the true meaning of those words which sounded to my ears so wild and tragic. The mystery of it was all-consuming. I tried to discern some light through the dark cloud that had so suddenly fallen and enveloped my well-beloved, but all was utterly inscrutable.
We crossed the stile and walked on into the dim lonely gloom of the Chase. I took her hand and felt that she was trembling. Of what, I wondered, was she in fear? Was it because of the sudden return of that rough seafarer, Richard Keene? Was it of some denunciation that could be made by Mademoiselle Lejeune; or was it because of what had occurred down in that damp hollow behind the beeches in the south avenue--that spot that bore the imprint of her shoes?
”Lolita,” I said at last in a soft, low voice, ”are you aware of the terrible affair--I mean the discovery in the park?”
”Yes,” was her mechanical answer, without, however, daring to look me in the face. ”I have heard all about it.”
”Well,” I said, ”the unfortunate young man is unidentified except--” and I hesitated.
”Except what?” she gasped quickly. ”What have they discovered?”
”They have discovered nothing,” I a.s.sured her. ”But I myself have discovered that the man now dead p.a.w.ned, a year ago, your amethyst and pearl necklet--the one your father, the Earl, gave you for a birthday present in India, and, further, that he wore upon his finger a ring containing your portrait!”
”The police!--do they know these facts?” she gasped, halting and glaring at me.
”They are known only to myself,” I answered in a grave, low tone. ”What have you to say?” For a moment she stood with her countenance blanched to the lips, and a strange haunted look in her eyes. Summoning all her courage, her gloved fingers clenching themselves into the palms, she bowed her head and answered hoa.r.s.ely--
”I have nothing to say--nothing--nothing!”
I stood in silence regarding her, utterly mystified. Was it guilt that was written so vividly upon her face, or was it the fierce desperation of an innocent woman hounded to her death?
Ah! had I known the startling truth at that moment, how differently would I have acted!
CHAPTER TWELVE.
LOVE AND LOLITA.