Part 10 (1/2)

The lieutenant took out a memorandum-book.

”Is that necessary?” asked Marjory anxiously.

”A report must be made.”

”It was nothing, I a.s.sure you,” she insisted. ”It was what in America is called a false alarm.”

”You are American?” inquired the lieutenant, twisting his mustache.

”It is a compliment to my French that you did not know,” smiled Marjory.

It was also a compliment to the lieutenant that she smiled. At least, it was so that he interpreted it.

”The report is only a matter of routine,” he informed her. ”If mademoiselle will kindly give me her name.”

”But the newspapers!” she exclaimed. ”They make so much of so little.”

”It will be a pleasure to see that the report is treated as confidential,” said the lieutenant, with a bow.

So, as a matter of fact, after a perfunctory interview with madame and Marie, who had so far recovered themselves as to be easily handled by Marjory, the lieutenant and his men bowed themselves out and the incident was closed.

Marjory escorted them to the door, and then, a little breathless with excitement, went into the reception room a moment to collect herself.

The scene was set exactly as it had been when from upstairs she heard that shot--the shot that for a second had checked her breathing as if she herself had been hit. As clearly as if she had been in the room, she had seen Monte stretched out on the floor, with Hamilton bending over him. She had not thought of any other possibility. As she sprang down the stairs she had been sure of what she was about to see. But when she entered she had found Monte standing erect--erect and smiling, with his light hair all awry like a schoolboy's.

Then, sinking into the chair near the window,--this very chair beside which she now stood,--he had asked her to go out and attend to madame.

Come to think of it, it was odd that he had been smiling. It was not quite natural for one to smile over as serious a matter as that. After all, even if Teddy was melodramatic, even if his shot had missed its mark, it was not a matter to take lightly.

She seated herself in the chair he had occupied, and her hands dropped wearily to her side. Her fingers touched something sticky--something on the side of the chair next to the wall--something that the gendarmes had not noticed. She did not dare to move them. She was paralyzed, as if her fingers had met some cold, strange hand. For one second, two seconds, three seconds, she sat there transfixed, fearing, if she moved as much as a muscle, that something would spring at her from below--some awful fact.

Then finally she did move. She moved slowly, with her eyes closed.

Then, suddenly opening them wide, she saw her fingers stained carmine.

She knew then why Monte had smiled. It was like him to do that.

Running swiftly to her room, she called Marie as she ran.

”Marie--my hat! Your hat! Hurry!”

”Oh, mon Dieu!” exclaimed Marie. ”Has anything happened?”

”I have just learned what has already happened,” she answered. ”But do not alarm madame.”

It was impossible not to alarm madame.

The mere fact that they were going out alarmed madame. Marjory stopped in the hall and quite coolly worked on her gloves.

”We are going for a little walk in the suns.h.i.+ne,” she said. ”Will you not come with us?”

Decidedly madame would not. She was too weak and faint. She should send for a friend to stay with her while she rested on her bed.