Part 56 (1/2)
The waste-paper basket!
It was half full, and the locket might easily have dropped in there, but a hasty examination was without avail.
The fireplace!
He looked there, in the ready-laid fire, beneath the grate, in the fender; he even raised it, but without avail.
”It must be here somewhere,” he muttered fiercely; and he looked round again, and in amongst the papers on the table.
Still without avail.
”It is in the waste-paper basket,” he said, with a feeling of conviction upon him, as, trembling in every limb, he went to the other side of the table where it stood.
”What's that?”
A faint sound. Was it Crampton returning?
He stood listening, his brow glistening with the cold perspiration; and as he remained breathless and intent, he seemed to see again the office as it was on the previous night, almost totally dark, the safe opened, and the shadowy figure of Van Heldre das.h.i.+ng at him.
Was it fancy, or was the place really dark? A curious mist was before his eyes, but all was silent; and he went down on his knees, turned to a waste-paper basket upside down--the torn letters, envelopes, and circulars forming a heap on the well-worn Turkey carpet; but no piece of metal fell out with a low pat.
”It is here; it is here; it shall be here,” he panted; and then he sprang to his feet s.h.i.+vering with shame and dread, face to face with Madelaine Van Heldre, who, pale with emotion, heavy-eyed with weeping, but erect and stern, flashed upon him a look full of anger and contempt.
”Ah, Madelaine!” he stammered, ”have you seen a half-written letter-- must be here somewhere--left on my desk?”
”Henri des Vignes--the soul of honour!” she said bitterly. ”Have you fallen so low as this?”
”I--I don't understand you.”
”You coward! And you can lie to me--the woman you professed to love!”
”Madelaine, for pity's sake.”
”Let me tell you what you are looking for.”
”I--looking for?”
”Yes; you are looking for something for fear it should fall into the hands of the police.”
”I don't know what you mean.”
”Oh! is it possible that a man can be so base? Let me tell you, then.
You are looking for the locket snapped from your chain when my poor father was stricken down.”
”Madelaine! what are you saying?”
”Stricken down by the wretch whom, in my pity and love, I had asked him to receive into his house, that he might redeem his character, and prove to the world that he had only been weak.”
”You--you did this!” he gasped.