Part 7 (2/2)

”For the love of G.o.d, spare me, Monsieur,” she sobbed. ”You don't understand. I confess that what you have there, is mine. I have held myself high, in my own eyes, and the eyes of the world, because I--an actress--never took a lover. But now I am like the others. This is my lover. There's the price I put on my love. Now, Monsieur, I ask you on my womanhood to hold what is in that leather case sacred.”

I felt the blood rush to my face as if she had struck me across it with a whip. My first thought, to my shame, was a selfish one. What if this became known, this thing that she had said, and Diana should hear? Then indeed all hope for me with the girl I loved would be over. My second thought was for Maxine herself. But she had sealed my lips. Since she had chosen the way, I could only be silent.

”Mademoiselle, it is a grief to me that I must refuse such a prayer, from such a woman. But duty before chivalry. I must see the contents of that case,” said the Commissary of Police.

She caught his hand and rained tears upon it. ”No--no!” she implored.

”If I were rich, I would offer you thousands to spare me. I've been extravagant--I haven't saved, but all I have in the world is yours if--.”

”There can be no such 'if,' Mademoiselle,” the man broke in. And wrenching his hand free, he opened the case before she could again prevent him.

Out fell a cascade of light, a diamond necklace. It flashed to the floor, where it lay on one of the sofa cus.h.i.+ons, sending up a spray of rainbow colours.

_”Sacre bleu!”_ muttered the Frenchman, under his breath, for whatever he had expected, he had not expected that. But Maxine spoke not a word.

Shorn of hope, as, in spite of her prayers and tears, the leather case was torn open, she was shorn of strength as well; and the beautiful, tall figure crumpling like a flower broken on its stalk, she would have fallen if I had not caught her, holding her up against my shoulder. When the cataract of diamonds sprang out of the case, however, I felt her limp body straighten itself. I felt her pulses leap. I felt her begin to _live_. She had drunk a draught of hope and life, and, fortified by it, was gathering all her scattered forces together for a new fight, if fight she must again.

The Commissary of Police turned the leather case wrong side out. It was empty. There had been nothing inside but the necklace: not a card, not a sc.r.a.p of paper.

”Where, then, is the doc.u.ment?” Crestfallen, he put the question half to himself, half to Maxine de Renzie.

”What doc.u.ment?” she asked, too wise to betray relief in voice or face.

Hearing the heavy tone, seeing the shamed face, the hanging head that lay against my shoulder, who--knowing a little less than I did of the truth--would have dreamed that in her soul she thanked G.o.d for a miracle? Even I would not have been sure, had I not felt the life stealing back into her half-dead body.

”The contents of the case are not what I came here to find,” admitted the Enemy.

”I do not know what you came to find, but you have made me suffer horribly,” said Maxine. ”You have been very cruel to a woman who has done nothing to deserve such humiliation. All pleasure I might have taken in my diamonds is gone now. I shall never have a peaceful moment--never be able to wear them joyfully. I shall have the thought in my mind that people who look at me will be saying: 'Every woman has her price. There is the price of Maxine de Renzie.'”

”You need have no such thought, Mademoiselle,” the man protested. ”We shall never speak to anyone except those who will receive our report, of what we have heard and seen in this room.”

”Won't you search further?” asked Maxine. ”Since you seemed to expect something else--”

”You would not have had time to conceal more than one thing, Mademoiselle,” said the policeman, with a smile that was faintly grim.

”Besides, this case was what you did not wish us to find. You are a great actress, but you could not control the dew which sprang out on your forehead, or the beating of your heart when I touched the sofa, so I knew: I had been watching you for that. There has been an error, and I can only apologise.”

”I don't blame you, but those who sent you,” said Maxine, letting me lead her to a chair, into which she sank, limply. ”I am thankful you do not tell me these diamonds are contraband in some way. I was not sure but it would end in that.”

”Not at all, Mademoiselle. I wish you joy of them. It is you who will adorn the jewels, not they you. Again I apologise for myself and my companions. We have but done our duty.”

”I have an enemy, who must have contrived this plot against me,”

exclaimed Maxine, as if on a sudden thought. ”It is said that 'h.e.l.l hath no fury like a woman scorned.' But what of a man who has been scorned--by a woman? He knew I wanted all my strength for to-night--the night of the new play--and he will be hoping that this has broken me.

But I will not be broken. If you would atone, Messieurs, for your part in this scene, you will go to the theatre this evening and encourage me by your applause.”

All three bowed. The Commissary of Police, lately so relentless, murmured compliments. It was all very French, and after what had pa.s.sed, gave me the sensation that I was in a dream.

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