Part 28 (2/2)
As I spoke I found and abstracted the dummy treaty and slipped the real one into its place. Then I laid the envelope with the note I had written where he could not help finding it at first or second glance.
”Now you can close the safe,” I said.
He shut the door, and I almost breathed aloud the words that burst from my heart, ”Thank Heaven!”
”I must leave you,” I told him. And I was kind for a moment, capricious no longer, because, though the treaty had been restored, I was going to open the cage of G.o.densky's vengeance, and--I was afraid of him.
”I may come to you as soon as I'm free?” Raoul asked.
”Yes. Come and tell me what you think of the news, and--what you think of me,” I said. And while I spoke, smiling, I prayed within that he might continue to think of me all things good--far better than I deserved, yet not better than I would try to deserve in the future, if I were permitted to spend that future with him.
The next thing I did was to send my letter to Count G.o.densky. This was a flinging down of the glove, and I knew it well. But I was ready to fight now.
Then, I had to keep my promise to Miss Forrest. But I had thought of a way in which, I hoped, that promise--fulfilled as I meant to fulfil it--might help rather than injure me. I had not lain awake all night for nothing.
I went to the office of the Chief of Police, who is a gentleman and a patron of the theatre--when he can spare time from his work. I had met him, and had reason to know that he admired my acting.
His first words were of congratulation upon my success in the new play; and he was as cordial, as complimentary, as if he had never heard of that scene at the elysee Palace Hotel, about which of course he knew everything--so far as his subordinate could report.
”Are you surprised to see me, Monsieur?” I asked.
”A great delight is always more or less of a surprise in this work-a-day world,” he gallantly replied.
”But you can guess what has brought me?”
”Would that I could think it was only to give me a box at the theatre this evening.”
”It is partly that,” I laughed. ”Partly for the pleasure of seeing you, of course. And partly--you know already, since you know everything, that I am a friend of Mr. Dundas, the young Englishman accused of a murder which he could not possibly have committed.”
”Could not possibly have committed? Is that merely your opinion as a loyal friend, or have you come to make a communication to me?”
”For that--and to offer you the stage-box for to-night.”
”A thousand thanks for the box. As for the communication--”
”It's this. Mr. Dundas was in my house at the time when, according to the doctors' statements, the murder must have been committed. Oh, it's a hard thing for me to come and tell you this!” I went on hastily. ”Not that I'm ashamed to have received a call from him at that hour, as it was necessary to see him then, or not at all. He meant to leave Paris early in the morning. But--because I'm engaged to be married to--perhaps you know that, though, among other things?”
”I've heard--a rumour. I didn't know that it amounted to an engagement.
Monsieur du Laurier is to be a thousand times congratulated.”
”I love him dearly,” I said simply. And, not because I am an actress, but because I am a a woman and had suffered all that I could bear, tears rose to my eyes. ”I am true to him, and always have been. But--he is horribly jealous. I can't explain Mr. Dundas' night visit in a way to satisfy him. If Raoul finds out that an Englishman--well-known, but of whom I never spoke--was at my house after midnight, he will believe I have deceived him. Oh, Monsieur, if you would help me to keep this secret I am telling you so frankly!”
”Keep the secret, yet use it to free the Englishman?” asked the Chief of Police gravely.
”Yes, I ask no less of you; I beg, I implore you. It would kill me to break with Raoul du Laurier.”
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