Part 59 (1/2)

Hugh was much surprised at this. But he now saw the reason why Mrs. Bond was so solicitous of the poor girl's welfare.

”Now I happened to be in London, and on one of your father's visits to town, Benton, his friend, introduced us. Naturally I had no knowledge of the plot which Benton and Howell had formed, and finding your father a very agreeable gentleman, I invited him to the furnished flat I had taken at Queen's Gate. I went to the theatre with him on two occasions, Benton accompanying us, and then your father returned to the country.

One day, about two months later Howell happened to be in London, and presumably they decided that the plot was ripe for execution, for they asked me to write to Mr. Henfrey at Woodthorpe, and suggest that he should come to London, have an early supper with us, and go to a big charity ball at the Albert Hall. In due course I received a wire from Mr. Henfrey, who came to London, had supper with me, Benton and Howell being also present, while Howell's small closed car, which he always drove himself, was waiting outside to take us to the ball.”

Then she paused and drew a long breath, as though the recollection of that night horrified her--as indeed it did.

”After supper I rose and left the room to speak to my servant for a moment, when, just as I re-entered, I saw Howell, who was standing behind Mr. Henfrey's chair, suddenly bend, place his left arm around your father's neck, and with his right hand press on the nape of the neck just above his collar. 'Here!' your father cried out, thinking it was a joke, 'what's the game?' But the last word was scarcely audible, for he collapsed across the table. I stood there aghast. Howell, suddenly noticing me, told me roughly to clear out, as I was not wanted.

I demanded to know what had happened, but I was told that it did not concern me. My idea was that Mr. Henfrey had been drugged, for he was still alive and apparently dazed. I afterwards heard, however, that Howell had pressed the needle of a hypodermic syringe containing a newly discovered and untraceable poison which he had obtained in secret from a certain chemist in Frankfort, who makes a speciality of such things.”

”And what happened then?” asked Hugh, aghast and astounded at the story.

”Benton and Howell sent me out of the room. They waited for over an hour. Then Howell went down to the car. Afterwards, when all was clear, they half carried poor Mr. Henfrey downstairs, placed him in the car, and drove away. Next day I heard that my guest had been found by a constable in a doorway in Albemarle Street. The officer, who first thought he was intoxicated, later took him to St. George's Hospital, where he died. Afterwards a scratch was found on the palm of his hand, and the doctors believed it had been caused by a pin infected with some poison. The truth was, however, that his hand was scratched in opening a bottle of champagne at supper. The doctors never suspected the tiny puncture in the hair at the nape of the neck, and they never discovered it.”

”I knew nothing of the affair,” declared The Sparrow, his face clouded by anger. ”Then Howell was the actual murderer?”

”He was,” Yvonne replied. ”I saw him press the needle into Mr. Henfrey's neck, while Benton stood by, ready to seize the victim if he resisted.

Benton and Howell had agreed to kill Mr. Henfrey, compel his son to marry Louise, and then get Hugh out of the world by one or other of their devilish schemes. Ah!” she sighed, looking sadly before her. ”I see it all now--everything.”

”Then it was arranged that after I had married Louise I should also meet with an unexpected end?”

”Yes. One that should discredit you in the eyes of your wife and your own friends--an end probably like your father's. A secret visit to London, and a mysterious death,” Mademoiselle replied.

She spoke quite calmly and rationally. The shock of suddenly encountering the two persons who had been uppermost in her thoughts before those terrible injuries to her brain had balanced it again.

Though the pains in her head were excruciating, as she explained, yet she could now think, and she remembered all the bitterness of the past.

”You, M'sieur Henfrey, are the son of my dead friend. You have been the victim of a great and dastardly conspiracy,” she said. ”But I ask your forgiveness, for I a.s.sure you that when I invited your father up from Woodthorpe I had no idea whatever of what those a.s.sa.s.sins intended.”

”Benton is already under arrest for another affair,” broke in The Sparrow quietly. ”I heard so from London yesterday.”

”Ah! And I hope that Howell will also be punished for his crime,” the handsome woman cried. ”Though I have been a thief, a swindler, and a decoy--ah! yes, I admit it all--I have never committed the crime of murder. I know, messieurs,” she went on--”I know that I am a social outcast, the mysterious Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, they call me! But I have suffered. I have indeed in these past months paid my debt to Society, and of you, Mr. Henfrey, I beg forgiveness.”

”I forgive you, Mademoiselle,” Hugh replied, grasping her slim, white hand.

”Mademoiselle will, I hope, meet Miss Rans...o...b.. Mr. Henfrey's fiancee, and tell her the whole truth,” said The Sparrow.

”That I certainly will,” Yvonne replied. ”Now that I can think I shall be allowed to leave this place--eh?”

”Of course. I will see after that,” said the man known as Mr. Peters.

”You must return to the Villa Amette--for you are still Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo, remember! Leave it all to me.” And he laughed happily.

”But we are no nearer the solution of the mystery as to who attempted to kill you, Mademoiselle,” Hugh remarked.

”There can be but one person. Old Cataldi knows who it is,” she answered.

”Cataldi? Then why has he not told me? I questioned him closely only the other day,” said The Sparrow.

”For certain reasons,” Mademoiselle replied. ”He _dare_ not tell the truth!”

”Why?” asked Hugh.