Part 35 (1/2)

In half an hour she had exchanged her dress for the filmy garments and velvet zouave of an Oriental beauty, and was lying half rec.u.mbent upon the silken divan in a careless, graceful att.i.tude. When she had a.s.sumed exactly the same pose as before, with one naked foot dangling near the ground and the stray embroidered slipper beside her, she told him to commence.

During the morning the artist worked on in the best of spirits.

Delighted at the return of his companion and _confidante_, whom he had despaired of seeing again, he chatted and laughed in a manner quite unusual to him, for he always preserved a rather morose silence when he had any difficult work in hand. One thing, however, was unaccountable, and caused him considerable surprise. When he had been painting about an hour he made a discovery. He was engaged in heightening the tone of the neck, and, finding her head cast rather too much shadow, asked her to turn a little more upon her side. She did so rather reluctantly, he thought--and then he noticed upon her neck, half-hidden by the heavy necklace of Turkish coins she wore, a long ugly scar.

”Why, Dolly!” he exclaimed in consternation, leaving his easel and walking up to examine her more closely, ”what's the matter with your neck?”

”Nothing,” she replied, somewhat embarra.s.sed.

”But you've had a fearful wound. How did it occur?”

”It was a mere trifle. I--I fell down.”

”Where?”

”In the street. I slipped and fell upon the kerb.”

”A fall couldn't cause a cut like that,” he exclaimed incredulously.

”It did. But don't bother about it,” she replied, a trifle petulantly.

”It has healed now, and I have no pain.”

He looked at her steadily, and felt convinced that she was concealing the truth. Rea.s.suming his former lightheartedness, however, he observed that the accident was most unfortunate, and, expressing a hope that she felt no evil effects from it, returned to his picture and continued to put in the lighter flesh tints.

About two o'clock he suddenly remembered that he had made an appointment to call upon a man at Holland Park with regard to a commission, and that it would be imperative for him to leave her for at least an hour. She raised no objection, therefore he changed his coat and took his departure, promising to return with all possible haste, as he wanted to finish the portion of the picture upon which he was engaged before the light failed.

When he had gone she rose languidly from her couch, and, s.h.i.+vering slightly, threw a wrap around her bare white shoulders, and seated herself by the fire. Soon Mrs. O'Shea brought in her luncheon on a tray, and she ate with relish, chatting to the housekeeper meanwhile.

After she had finished, and the old woman had retired, she rose and wandered round the studio in search of any fresh studies the artist might have made during her absence. She turned one which was hanging with its face to the wall, and discovered it was a likeness of the woman she hated--her rival, Valerie Dedieu. It was only a crayon drawing, but the features were lifelike, and the cruel, cold smile played upon the full red lips.

”I wonder,” she said, aloud--”I wonder what secret tie there is between Jack and that woman? There is something, I feel certain, and I'll not rest until I solve the mystery. Yet--yet she is Hugh's wife--Hugh loves her!” she added bitterly.

With a sigh she replaced the sketch in the position she had found it.

”Yes, my precious mademoiselle,” she continued menacingly, ”you may well hide your face. Some day you will curse the chance which brought you and Hugh together. You little suspect the revenge that I am waiting for.”

Pausing in thought, she ran her fingers through her dishevelled hair.

”And yet,” she cried in dismay, as the sudden thought occurred to her, ”by unmasking you, Hugh would suffer, for he adores you! The discovery of your villainy would break his heart. You are his wife--his wife--and for me--for me he cares nothing!”

A tear trickled down her cheek, but it was only for an instant; she brushed it away, and stood motionless for several minutes gazing disconsolately into the fire. Then she noticed that Jack's secretaire bookcase, which stood close beside her, was open. Feminine curiosity at once a.s.serted itself, and the thought crossed her mind that it was possible she might discover some clue to the secret between the Frenchwoman and the artist.

At once she proceeded to search, at the same time listening attentively for any sign of the approach of Mrs. O'Shea. Prying among the papers in the desk she could discover nothing which had any interest for her among the bills, letters, theatre programmes and memoranda it contained.

Turning her attention to the small drawers above, her search was equally fruitless. One drawer she opened, however, contained nothing but an old newspaper folded small and lying along the bottom. A red mark upon it attracted her, and she took it out and unfolded it, but with disappointment she found herself unable to read it, as it was in French.

Half a column on the front page had been marked round boldly with a red pencil, and was evidently some important report which had been carefully preserved. The heading was set in great capitals, and the type was larger than that in the body of the paper.

She glanced down the lines of print, but they were unintelligible to her. The heading, which was the only sentence she could make out, was ”Le Mystere du Boulevard Haussmann,” and the newspaper was the Paris _Gaulois_. Truth to tell, it was the paper which Egerton had abstracted from the bureau at Coombe when Dolly and he had visited Trethowen.

The ”Sultan's Favourite” carefully scanned each line in an endeavour to discover some word that was familiar, but found none. She knew it contained details of some mystery or other, and that was sufficient incentive for her to try and translate it. Soon, however, she found that all her efforts were futile; so, refolding it, she was about to replace it in its former position when she suddenly reflected that if she copied out a portion of it she might get it translated by a governess who lodged in the same house as herself, and with whom she was on friendly terms.

Taking a seat at the desk, she spread out the paper before her, and carefully copied several sentences, taking heed to place the accents accurately, and scrupulously avoiding errors in orthography. Having covered two sheets of notepaper, she replaced the newspaper in the drawer, afterwards going into her dressing-room and putting her notes into the pocket of her dress.