Part 22 (1/2)
With little difficulty Hugh discovered that the house he was in search of was situated at the corner of the Place Louise, and that its facade was more imposing than that of its neighbours.
Meanwhile, seated on a low gypsy chair, in a small but elegant room, Valerie was deciphering a long letter which had been just handed to her by the man who sat near, Victor Berard.
”Well, what do you think of it?” asked the latter, twirling the needle-like points of his moustache, as she folded the paper slowly and replaced it in the envelope.
”It only shows how very near he was to bungling--the idiot! If he had, well--the results would have been too dreadful to think of.”
”Matters are progressing as well as can be wished, and the disappearance has been accomplished excellently, with the exception of that one hitch--”
”Which might have sent us both to a very unfas.h.i.+onable lodging,” she interrupted.
Nodding acquiescence, he replied--
”_Sapristi_! that's all very well. But you have the money; you can't grumble. Again, why need we fear the failure? You have beauty--indeed, you're the best-looking woman in Brussels. As long as you retain that charm, we need not be apprehensive.”
”You pay me a pretty compliment, Victor,” she laughed. ”Nevertheless, I must admit my face has always been my fortune.”
”And other people's misfortune, eh?” observed her companion, smiling grimly.
”Well, that's certainly one way of putting it, but you--”
”M'sieur Trethowen desires to see mademoiselle,” Nanette said, for she had opened the door un.o.bserved.
”Trethowen!” gasped Victor, twisting his moustache nervously. ”He must not find us together.”
”No,” exclaimed Valerie. ”Go quickly through the garden, and out by the side door.”
He had already put on his hat, and without further hesitation he waved his hand, and vanished through a door communicating with the conservatory.
”_Au revoir_,” he said. ”You will know how to manage him, and I will return at six to take you to the Moliere.”
She went to a long mirror and hurriedly arranged her hair; then, turning to the maid, ordered her visitor to be shown in.
”I wonder what his object is in coming here,” she muttered to herself, as she sank into her wicker chair, and commenced twisting her rings round her shapely fingers perplexedly. ”Surely he cannot suspect! Yet the threats of that fool Egerton still ring in my ears,” and she frowned thoughtfully.
When her visitor entered she rose, calm and pale, to meet him.
”So you have returned to me at last, Hugh,” she said in a faltering voice, almost overcome with emotion.
”Yes, dearest,” he replied, placing his arm around her waist, and drawing her closely to him. ”I have come to beg forgiveness for being so rash.”
”My forgiveness!” she exclaimed in a tone of surprise, looking up into his face. ”Why, I have nothing really to forgive.”
”I judged you too hastily, Valerie, and, now I have learned the error of my ways, I have come over here to receive your pardon.”
”And I grant that freely,” she said, with a happy smile, for she was unfeignedly delighted that he had returned.
”Do you know,” he said, as he slowly released her, and sank into a chair beside her, ”I've been unspeakably dull and miserable. By Jove! life hasn't been worth living lately.”
”Why?” asked she naively.