The San Francisco call. [volume], July 05, 1903, Image 5

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

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I sent her away— for It wculd not be
well that we should be seen together —
and when I had dressed for the street I
went out I had eaten nothing. But Ag
nes, who Is a tyrant, made me drink a
cup of soup while I waited for the car
riage.
That brave English girl, trusted me.
and I would not fall' her; but before my
promise was kept there wan something
else. to do— something else upon which de
pended far more than my life— Maxime's
honor, which I (deluding myself with the
thought It was for his sake) had dared to
risk. *
As I drove, having told my coachman to
take me to* the Foreign Office, thoughts,
plans, hopes and fears beat in my bruin,
like the fluttering wings of imprisoned
birds. , . • . .
How was I to make all right— If all
"there was a paper— or rather a parch
ment of some Importance to you, per
haps "
I darted at the girl and caught at her
wrist, hardly knowing what I did. "For
Heaven's sake," I gasped, "what do you
know of the parchment?"
"If I could get it for you "
"What, you would bargain still, at such
a moment? If you but guessed! Any
thing—ask anything you like for the
parchment. If it is yours to give, and you
shall have It."
"I ask ybu to tell the authorities that
Noel Brent was here last night from
twenty minutes past 12 until— until "
"Until half-past 1," I finished, thought
lessly; then I saw by the lightening of
her face that, young as she was, child
ishly innocent as she looked, she had all
along been cleverer, more self-controlled
than I in this matter, and had been lead
ing me on.
"You will tell the police that?"
"I must. If you will sell me the parch
ment at no less price. Yet, if I do what
you ask it will spoil my life. The man I
love will know, and he can never know
the real truth."
"Let me take him the diamonds and
say to him that Noel Brent and I found
them. That we were at your house last
night. That would be true, for I was at
the gate. I misjudged Noel as you say
your lover may misjudge you, but I see
more clearly now. And though I hadn't
quite given him a promise before we
quarreled, to make up to him for every
thing, I would marry him as soon as he
was free. It Is for you to help free him.
Have I made it easier for you to do
that?" ,
"A trifle," I said with a sigh. .'/I must
risk it Anything for the parchment, for
that may save me yet. Though how you
can possibly have got It into your pos
session I cannot imagine. Surely the po
lice must have searched their prisoner be
fore he "
"No. not before he had time to save It.
He hid it In the stove In the room where
the man was murdered. When I went to
him to-day— for I did go— he implored me
quickly in Italian to find and bring It to
you. And obi Mademoiselle de Nevers,
he did not bid me sell It to you for a
price. That was my thought. Yet you
have promised now. And— Noel would
not forgive me for this— I cannot let you
have what I have gone through so much
to get for nothing. It was awful— that
room— the horror of it— the stains of blood,
all the frightful disorder of . the death
struggle; everything as It had been ex
cept that the dead man lay there no long
er. I had to buy my way In; it cost me
a hundred pounds, which I had to borrow
until to-morrow; but that was nothing.
The terrible part was going Into the room.
I was not there five minutes, but it seem
ed an hour and there was the fear of be
ing caught, of having the parchment seiz
ed after I had unearthed It from among
the ashes. And the concierge waiting
outside the door, pale as death, his eyes
big and his great white face damp. Oh,
I have a right to set my own price upon
the parchment."
"I think that you have. You are a
brave girl and a loyal one," I said. "The
price I will pay. But trust me. For
Heaven's sake don't keep back the parch
ment until I have paid."
"I do trust you," she answered. "And
here Is the parchment." She whipped
from her pocket the treaty— for I was
sure of Its Identity at a glance— and put
it Into my hand. To feel it in my fingers
—to know It safe, after all I had suffered;
to know, too. what Its blessed safety yet
might mean for me. was almost too much
of joy. I trembled at the touch of the
folded parchment .
"Do you know what this Is, Miss Revel
stoke?" I asked.
"No," she said. "It was your property
or Noel's. Of course Z did not open It
I tried to brush and shake the ashes
away without that"
She said the words with such pretty dig
nity, such quaint primness, that I could
have broken Into a shriek of hysterical
laughter. She had tried to clean It— this
thing worth nothing, yet worth millions —
this Franco-Russian Treaty I I could
have kissed her. But Instead I was going
out to keep my word. Now that I had
the parchment In my hand, ashes and all,
I could do anything.
But the danger was not half over yet I
had the healing medicine In my grasp,
yet I dared not think how many a slip
might be between the cup and lip.
"If there were still another Inducement
to offer— to buy your help. If you will not
give It." continued Miss Revelstoke,
THE LAST HAND IN THE GREAT
GAME.
CHAPTER XIII.
The girl was shaking like a leaf, and at
my last words the tears sprang to her
eyes. She held out her hands to me.
"Thank you!" she exclaimed.
But I did not take the hands. "I do this
for him, not you," I said. "You have de
served little from me; but for the sake
of my loyal ' friend— your loyal lover— I
forgive you. And now I have done all I
can do. It is useless to ask more, for I
cannot do It. If you canfe to plead with
me. I am sorry that you must go away
My eyes were still reading hers— and
the language of changing red and white
on her cheeks. "And— did you believe that
we were lovers?" I demanded.
"That is neither here nor there. I "
"It is much. I will not let you go away
making that mistake. I am engaged to a
man whom I love more than ail the world
besides. I would die for him. And he
would kill me If he knew that Noel Brent
was with me last night, though the busi
ness we had together was all for ray
fiance's advantage. He would never be
lieve me. because he Is. a man; yet you
will believe It, because you are a woman —
and, I think now, the woman Noel Brent
loves."
Her color answered me. "Did he tell
you so V she stammered.
v"He told me that he loved a woman. I
begin to understand. Last night was not
the first time he had sacrificed himself
for his chlvalrle idea of honor. I owe you
nothing. Miss Revelstoke, and I believe
you to have done me an Injustice of the
sort women rarely forgive. But I owe
Noel Brent much, and as far as I can re
pay the debt I will. We have never been
more than friends; we were never less
to each other than when he came to me
last night He could not tell you why he
came, nor can I; but I at least have made
no promise, which, perhaps, he did; and
I will be Imprudent enough to admit to
you that his business with me was of a
political nature. More, he was sent from
your father's house— not by your father,
but by a colleague of his. Ask Sir Gor
don Revelstoke from me If that be not
the truth, and say I thought his daugh
ter might be trusted with. the secret since
it concerned the man who loved her." x
The girl raised her head proudly. "You
have nothing to fear from me as a rival.
Mademoiselle de Nevers," ehe said. "Mr.
Brent and I are friends no more."
"For your sake," she put In, "he is
brave and chivalrous. If you care for
him at all it Is for you to speak. It Is the
part of a true women."
I gazed at her steadily. "If I care." I
repeated. "I see now, It Is you who care
for him."
"It wasn't a question of daring," she re
plied* simply. "I thought of him more
than of you, perhaps; but I thought of
you, too. I knew that If It were I, no
matter how much harm I did to myself,
I would tell that he had been with me. I
couldn't let him suffer and keep silence
for anything in the world."
"There are reasons why I cannot well let
It be known that he was here last night,"
I said, "though the visit was entirely one
of business. Mr. Brent knows my reasons
and approves them; therefore he has re
mained silent."
Strength came to me again as If with
an electric shock of new vitality, and I
rose confronting her. "You would dare?"
I said.
My heart had been soft to her, for her
youth and beauty's sake, but now It hard
ened. Miss Revelstoke! This girl, then,
was the British Home Secretary's daugh
ter. I knew, through a friend, that she
had been told a story against me— a story
which was not true, and had believed It,
as butterflies of society are ready to be
lieve such stories of actresses.
"Is It possible that Mr. Brent has sent
you?" I coldly asked.
She did not answer Immediately. She
was looking at me with a strange expres
sion on her lovely face. Her eyes seemed
to question me. "I wanted very much to
see you." she said. I knew not If with
the purpose of evasion or whether she
had been too preoccupied with her own
thoughts to hear my words. "I— saw Mr.
Brent come to your house last night," she
went on with an effort, the blood rushing
up to her forehead. "It Is more honest to
admit that In the . beginning. I did not
dream of Bpylng upon— either of you. It
Just happened— It can't interest you to
know how. But when I had seen the
papers to-day, at first I wanted to 'tell
the police or somebody that he could not
have committed the murder at the time
it must have been done, because he was
in this house."
Ipanoff bowed, and, shuddering, I let
him kiss my hand under Henri's placid
eyes. When he had gone I. plunged the
polluted fingers into the water which fill
ed a bowl of roses, and had scarcely
dried them fiercely on my handkerchief
when Henri ushered in a girl whom I did
not know, yet felt that I had seen be
fore—a beautiful, tall girl. In a gray Eng
lish tailor-made traveling dress. There
was something so lovely and lovable
about her, so true a light in the great
long-lashed gray eyes under the shining
yellow-brown hair, that the Eight of her
was welcome to me. Her presence in the
room, after the agonizing scene I had
gone through, was like a breath of fresh
air when one has been half suffocated by
some noxious gas.
I was In no condition to give a conven
tional greeting to a guest. I had dropped
into my chair again in sheer exhaustion
as Ipanoff left the room, and I could not
rise, though I made a slight effort to do
so. "Forgive me," I panted. "I am not
well— I am not fit to see strangers. I
would not be rude. But I confess you
were admitted as an excuse to send away
a— troublesome person. I— If we have met
before ¦ " • *
"We met once or twice In London," she
broke In. In English, though I had ad
dressed her In French. "We never spoke
to each other. I am Miss Revelstoke, I
am— a friend of Mr. Brent's."
I will acknowledge to the police that I
blundered. I know what to say to save
you, and I will say It."
"I would kill myself sooner than break
with the Comte de Rlbaumont In such a
way," I said. "If— I am to give him up,
I must tell him with my own lips. This
I will do to-morrow. If I find that In the
meantime you have held your hand. You
have given me your ultimatum. This is
mine."
We looked at each other for a long mo
ment in silence. Then Ipanoff spoke.
"You swear to break with him. then?"
"If you have kept your bond."
"I will wait. I can ray no more than
that— I wait to test your word."
"It has never been broken."
"And afterward— when you are rid of
that— entanglement, you will be mine— at
last. To-morrow at this time I will come
back. But understand this— I shall know
whether you have kept the oath you have
sworn now."
As he finished old Henri appeared at the
door. "Mademoiselle, a young lady to
see you," he announced.- "She would not
give her name, but eald her business was
of Importance."
My lips opened to answer that the lady,
whoever she was, must go away without
seeing me; but I checked myself In time.
Here was a method of ridding myself of
Ipanoff. "Her business is of importance,"
I echoed, as If I knew who my visitor
was. '"When you have shown Count Ipan
off to the door you may bring the lady
In."
"I am not afraid of you— for myself." I
gasped. "And— there is nothing against
him. He has done nothing— yet some plot
of yours may make him seem guilty. And
—and until I can explain to him I would
not have Maxime hear my name coupled
with that of Noel Brent. Give me till to
morrow to decide. To-morrow, at this
time. Do nothing till then. It Is not
long."
"No." answered Ipanoff. "I must have
my answer now. I have been patient long
enough. Give me a ring from your hand
and a letter to take to De Ribaumont
and not only will I bald my hand against
him. but my. Influence shall be used to
keep your name out of this murder case.
I can do what I promise, for It was
through me that the commissary of po
lice caught you with Brent at his hotel.
"That remains to be seen. And even so,
he may have been tricked by a woman.
Choose. Juliette. Shall he curse you as a
traitress (If, as you say, he Is a true
man), will you doom him to wear out his
life on Devils Island or some such place,
or will you let him believe you merely
fickle? You can never be his wife. Will
you be mine, and save yourself and
him?"
"Yet you Intimate that Monsieur Du
l>!e«*ls has within the hour betrayed the
confidence of his client."
"Not at all. I called upon him as soon
at I learned what had happened and ex-
Pies^ed myself as extreme^ interested in
the fate of that client, whose Intimate
friends were ray friends. I even offered
to serve him in any way consistent with
ray position. Certainly. If I had not
formerly acquired a good amount of ln
..uence with Monsieur Duplessls he might
rot have trusted me even eo far as he
did. But he told me nothlnjr that could b»
u?<-d to Injure the accused man. even if
my Intentions were malevolent, as my
presence here would prove that they are
r.rt— rather the contrary."
"I do not read the proofs that way." 1
sneered. "But you have called here to tell
rr.e certain things. It will save time— will
<t not?— to come to the point."
"In a word. then, the point is this: One
of the most important questions asked by
the Juge d'Instructlon. after hearing
'rom Mnr.ftleur Brent an explanation of
a letter found upon him by the police —
ah. you start! The thought of a docu
ment being found upon the prisoner Is
nnt arreenble to you?"
I braced myself desperately to self-con
trol under the cruel fox-eyes which
watched me hungrily. "It may be that
Mr. Brent had a letter from me," I an
swered. "It is never agreeable to have
one's name bandied about among stran
gers, even If one Is— an actress."
"Ah. only a letter! B»t the public Is
your slave, it would forgive you any
Indiscretion, especially If the romance of
the situation Is to be Intensified by an
other avowal ruch as was made to the
commissary of police last night. There
would be few%xceptlon«': yet there might
be one or two. Comte de Rlbaurribnt, for
Instance. He !¦ eald not to be of a for
giving disposition."
I Cinched under this blow, but I trust
not visibly. "You Interrupted yourself In
speaking of the scene with the Juge d'In
structlon," I remarked. Icily.
"To be sure — since that Interests you
more. The Important question which the
Juge d'Instructlon sprang upon the ac
cused murderer was In relation to a let
ter found upon him. It was In English.
ill-spelt, and made an appointment at the
very address where the crime was com
mitted. It was. In fact, a reauest from
a person styling himself a Jeweler's as
sistant or messenger, for the receiver of
the letter to call and return a case con
taining valuable jewels committed while
traveling from London In very eccentric
fashion to his care— Indeed, without his
knowledge, another packet being ex
changed for it— if I make my meaning
clear. Monsieur Brent explained this let
ter to the Juge d'Instruction by the sen
sational rtatement that his pocket had
been picked In the train of a letter-case
containing papers entirely personal, *>f no
value to any one but himself.
" "What was In the case which the mur
dered man slipped into your pockotr
asked the Juge d'Instructlon.
" 'A necklace,' answered Monsieur
Brent.
" 'A necklace of diamonds?
" They looked like diamonds.'
" 'Ah' Was this the necklace which
you gave to Mile, de Nevers at the Elysee
Palace Hotel last night?' was the nexi
question fiung suddenly at Monsler
"Am I to hear from your lips what fol
lowed according to your informant?"
Monsieur Brtnt attempted to convince
the Juge d'Instruction that, if he had
brought you a present. It had no connsc
ticn whatever with the case in hand.
'Are you not Mile, de Nevers 1 lover?' de
manded the Juge d'Instruction. 'I ad
mire her m common with thousands of
others.' was the answer. And now. ma<l
ensoiselle. do yon understand what there
Is In these questions and answers whlcu
I have repeated to bring me here to
you?"
"No. I do not," I returned steadily. Yet
I did begin to see what might be In that
scheming mind of his.
"Then I must speak dearly and, above
all. frankly. Comte de Ribaumont Is your
lover. You hope, perhaps, to marry him.
But he Is a proud man. He will have all
or nothing; and he would never take fcr
bis wife a woman who accepted diamond*
from another, boldly avowing them the
gift of love."
"He would not believe It of a woman
he loved!" I cried, almost repeating my
words of last night— as I remembered in
uttering them now.
"I know a way to make him. believe.
Oh. I shall not tell him! He shall see all
that passed between Monsieur Brent and
the Juge d'Instructlon In writing un
less^—"
"Unless whatT"
"Unless you give him vp and put In his
place a man who adores you as he never
has and never will— as no other man
can."
I sprang from my chair as Ipanoff flung
me his ultimatum, and he also leaped to
his feet. Would that the lightning in my
eyes could have burnt his black heart!
••Tigress!" he exclaimed, under my look.
"Beautiful tigress. You cannot kill me
with your eyes. Would your Count de
Rlbaumont love you If he knew you for
wfcat you are? Yet I— I would love you
if you were a murderess Instead of a
spy." J
"It Is yon who are a spy!" I panted.
"Then, If I am, I have not spied in vain.
Not only can I rein you with Rlbaumont,
but I *•*" ruin him with the world.".
"No— no!" I barely articulated. "You
boast of what you cannot perform."
"Not at the moment, perhaps. I had^
not proof enough at first of what I sus^
pected; but this affair of Brent has
played zny game. Its complications are
links for my chain. In one way be was
distinctly unfortonate. Dubols, the detec
tive, was the very man I had sent to
England to watch the Foreign Secretary
for a certain reason. He followed Brent
to Paris en suspicion, and It was while he
was actually preparing a report for me
that Brent called to engage him In his
own affair. ? strange coincidence, was It
not?"
"Nothing will be missing," I breathed.
"Maxime de Rlbaaxnont U a man of
honor.
For a moment Maxime spoke In a low
voice with a young man at the door., Then
Instinctively my fingers tightened on
the scrap of paper. I drew back hastily.
Maxime pushed the door of the safe, shut
and locked It, and when' he called "En
trez!" I was at the other end of the
room In a chair meant for visitors. My
bag in which I had brought the treaty)
was open, and I had In my hand a tiny
mirror, before which I was adjusting my
hair with a confused and coquettish look.
This It Is to have been an actress half
one's life!
"Give It to m© then."
"Ah! but that is not what I want to
do. Oh! Maxime, be kind to me. Give
me my own way, just this once, to atone
for last night. It ¦will atone. Let me
put the note I have written for you In
your safe, among the great and Import
ant state documents which you gave me
a peep at the other day. Mine Is as im
portant as they, I promise you; but I
shall not believe you think it so unless
you let me lay it there, not to be read
until I have left you."
• "Is the news good or bad?" he demand
ed. "Jf it is bad. I will not wait in sus
pense. I will hear It now from you."
"It Is good v " I said.
"Then It can wait, for I have you now —
that is enough of good at one time."
"But it cannot wait to be put in the
post-box," I cried, pushing him away
when he would have taken me In his
arms, and laughing nervously. "Am I to
have my way?"
"There need be no great difficulty in
that," laughed Maxime, "since you are
you. and I know that I could trust you
with my soul." ~
Oh, how the words hurt— though I loved
him for them I
He opened the safe from which I had
stolen the treaty with a quickness which
would have seemed to him— If he had
known— sleight of hand. But now I was
trembling all over and terribly afraid of
bungling at the last. His loving eyes hurt
my face. I laid one' band over them.
"Don't look at me like that," X whispered,
"or I shall tell you and spoil my plan."
With my palm softly pressing down his
eyelids, as he held open the door of the
safe, I kissed him full upon his lips with
a long, long kiss. And kissing him I laid
the treaty where I had found it. So great
was the relief when It left my fingers that
I could have fallen Into weeping. But I
only sighed as I kissed my lover, and
was In the act of dropping the twice
folded note I had written in the carriage
Into the safe, where Maxime would be
sure to see it, when there was a knock at
the door. -^V V;
"It was only to say that I have no news
of the necklace, though I have done all
that I can. I do not deserve to see you
after my hateful conduct last night and
my brutal carelessness, which is costing
us both so much. Yet I was going to ask
If I might come to you after the theater
to-night. 6hall I send your telegram for
you, and then we can go to the office,
since you are so good, so exquisitely for
giving?"
Send the telegram! Lightning shot
through me at the thought, yet I forced a
6mile. "No, I thank you, dear one," I
said quietly, "since it concerns a surprise
for you, I do not wish to have It spoiled."
(Which was true, If ever I spoke the
truth.) - *
I drove him back to the Foreign Office
— lt;was not five minutes' drive— and for
tunately because! looked pale and my
eyes showed sleeplessness, Maxime for
got In his loving anxiety for my well
being to ask what brought me to him.
I wished to leave the explanation until
we had arrived, t*-at I might try my
plan.
As soon as we were In Maxime's office,
and alone together, I said: "Have you no
curiosity as to why I came?"
"I hoped it was because you longed to
see me a hundredth part as much, per
haps, as I to see you," he answered.
"It was partly that, and partly some
thing else," I returned, smiling at him
with eyes full of love and longing— long-
Ing for the happy calm which might be
ours after storms If only— only all went
well within the next hour. "I have news
for you," I went on. "I want you to
learn it In a certain way, not from my
lips, but from something I have written."
"You have written me a letter?" he
asked.
"A very little one,"
"I went to you at the office," I said,
my voice trembling a little. "You were
not there, so I came to send a wire. Now,
if you will, we can go back together.
You shall tell me what you were mean-
Ing to telegraph. That will be better."
I dreaded to learn my fate. "Was the
Comte de Rlbaumont In?" I asked. He
was not— and down went my heart. But
he was expected back again, as he had
an appointment a little later. In ten min
utes, perhaps, he would return. There
was still hope for to-day, then!
I would not wait, but left word that I
also in ten minutes would be back for a
word with the Comte de Ribaumont.
There was another card now to be
played, since the ace must wait. I drove
to the nearest telegraph office, and had
written out the message which I wished
to send, when a voice well known and
loved spoke close behind me.
•'Juliette!" exclaimed Maxime. "I had
Just come to 'telegraph to you. And now
I find you!"
I turned with a start, laying my hand
over the telegraph form on which Count
Ipanoff's name and address were written,
also these words: "I have changed my
mind. You need wait no longer. All
stands as before. Do what you choose.—
J. de N."
My purse has a notebook attachment,
with a tiny gold pencil held by a ribbon
loop. I wrote a few lines— shakily, as the
wheels traveled fast—tore out the leaf,
folded into a tiny square, and slipped It
Into my glove. Three minutes later my
carriage drew up before the Foreign Of
fice.
Suddenly, however, an Inspiration came
to roe— a plan by which I might Induce
Mm to unlock the safe door for me.
The fear of finding him gone was so
absorbing that I could scarcely collect
my thoughts; but I must think, and
clearly.
I had got the treaty in the first place
by a ruse; but what excuse could I make
to-day to wheedle Maxime again Into
opening the safe from which I purloined
It? Even a lover would scarcely be so
good-naturedly reckless of his trust for a
second time.
could yet be right? Could I cave him—
and myself for him?
I had in my hand the ace of trumps
for that desperate game in which I had
staked Maxime's honor and my happi
ness. Miss Revelstoke held another high
trump for me (strange that they should
both come back through her!), but all
the other trumps, and many a good card
besides, were still the enemy's. Every
thing depended now on, the way the next
hand was played, and it was I who must
lay down the first card.
I had ordered my coachman to drive
fast, for if I missed Maxime It would be
too late to replace the treaty In the safe
to-day, while who could tell what to
morrow might bring forth? and I might,
too, easily miss him at this hour. It was
but a chance that he/ might still be at
the office.
"Not even to get back the Jewels, whose
loss was the beginning of all our misfor
tune. Noel Brent would not wish me to
sacrifice myself. His silence shows that—
and It shall not have been in vain. He
must be saved without me."
"Something— yes."
•Then you know, perhaps, that It Is of
great value. Can you give him informa
tion which would help him to find it?"
"I might give you the Information. But
for a reward. A finder Is always entitled
to a reward. That which I ask for Is
your promise to save Noel Brent."
"I tell you I cannot," I cried. "You—
surely you do not demand a bribe?"
"A reward. I know where the thing Is
which was lost and to-morrow it can be
In your hands, if you will do what I Im
plore. Tell the police that Noel Brent
was here at the time when the doctors
esy the murder was without doubt com
mitted."
disappointed. But I am tired and 111. It
would be better for us both to part now."
"I came for more than to plead," the
girl persisted. "That was only the begin
ning. I won't keep you long. But there
are two things I must say before I go.
You yourself would wish it. For one—
that photograph In the frame of brilliants
—Is it a friend of yours V *
She was pointing to a photograph of
Maxima which stood on my writing desk.
"Yes," I answered— for I saw no reason
to hide the truth from her. "A deer
friend. One for whom— If necessary— I
would sacrifice all others."
"Pardon me for asking," said Miss Rev
elstoke. "It was because he lost some
thing last night." -
"And you know something of it?" I
caught her up quickly, taking a step to
ward her.
As he clasped me the world outside
faded away. I forgot that I had been
all my life a woman who dared. Z was
now— I am now— only a woman who loves,
and has more than she deserves.
(THE END.)
"I have listened to Ipanoff for the last
time," said Maxime. "That dogl He
had better not speak evil of you!"
"I hope he will see that It is useless,"
I answered. "I am so tired of storms. I
want love— and peace— and you."
"You shall have all— and for always."
said Maxime.
But the necklace " I breathed. "You
will be glad to have It again? A lovely
girl will give It to you to-morrow. 8he
Is to marry my old friend Noel Brent
who Is accused of murder here in Paris.
She was here last night, and her lover,
too; they found the necklace which Noel
Brent himself had got back from the
thief, who was murdered, but not by
him. She will explain: I could not have
told you. as It was not a conventional
proceeding for her. No one knows but
myself, and now you and one other,
Ipanoff- If he ever tries to make you
believe lies of me and Noel Brent, you
will understand now how little truth
there Is In them, since he adores another
woman, almost— but not Quite— as I
adore you."
The traitor Ipanoff had managed that
trick somehow. He must have meant all
along to win over my promise and de
ceive me. ruining Maxime; though he
would have vowed. If anything in the safe
had been missing and Maxime disgraced,
that he had had nothing to do with it.
The fear of the terrible man, who had so
nearly checkmated me, came over me
again.
"You mean that, thank heaYeo. you
were too late, don't you?" he corrected
me. He was thinking of the note; I was
thinking of something elsel But when I
heard his Innocent remark I gratefully
assented.
"Thank heaven that I was not too later*
I had cried out before I knew what I was
saying.
"That tiresome fallow who parted ns!"
he exclaimed, when I was In his arms.
"He was gone In fifteen minutes. But—
it Is Just as well you were prevented from
putting your precious little note about the
finding of the necklace Into the safe ac
cording to your whim, for the man came
with an order from the President to copy
a cltCuse In the Franco-Russian treaty,
which is kept there. It would have been
rather awkward when I opened the safe
to take out the treaty If your note had
tumbled out. It wouldn't have looked
exactly official r*
this Comte de Ribaumont was announced.
I was obliged to force Mr. BTent to con
ceal himself In my boudoir, which he re
luctantly did; and I can prove to you by
one of my servants, if you do not care
to take my word alone, that he was not
able to escape until nearly half-past 1. He
could not have called twice in the Rue
de la Tour, as the papers say that the
concierge believed, for he was in my bou
doir. How he found the address of the
man he suspected as the thief I cannot
tell you "
"We already know that. It was through
a letter."
"Ah!" (I made the exclamation Inno
cently as if I did not remember all I had
heard from Count Ipanoff.) "Now, you
see why he went to the house. It was to
get my letters which he hoped to find
there. And you see also why he has kept
my name out of the affair, refusing to
compromise me even to save himself great
trouble, perhaps danger. How could he
ruin my happiness when he knew that 1
had lied to the Comte de Rlbaumont. say
ing: that I was alone?"
"It see. And I applaud his chivalry."
said the chief of police.
"You are the man to understand it.
Now that I have humiliated myself, will
he be released? It is clear— Is It not?
that the murder must have been dom.
long before the time when he could have
reached the Rue de la Tour after leaving
my house at 1:30."
"That is clear. There are still certain
formalities to be gone through before the
accused man can be released; but I may
as well Inform you, dear mademoiselle,
that not ten minutes before you came in
I received news of the arrest of two men
— one an Englishman— who are believed to
be concerned in this strange affair. They
certainly traveled with the murdered man
from England yesterday, and a friend of
his named Poisson, Just returned from
Marseilles (It was In Poisson's room the
murder was committed), haj given Infor
mation regarding these two persons and
their late association as partners with the
deceased, which throws grave suspicion
on them. If the man Jackson who has
been murdered stole the necklace you
speak of from the Comte de Rlbaumont.
with this pair as his accomplices, and
afterward endeavored to cheat them out
of their share of the booty a motive for
the crime Is easily evident. You have
helped Monsieur Brent bravely. Made
moiselle de Nevers, and I hope that In a
day or two he himself may be able to
thank you. You have supplied all the
missing links."
"I am glad— glad!" I exclaimed. "And
must I suffer for what I have done for
him with the man I love?"
"No. dear mademoiselle; I will see that
you do not. The Comte de Rlbaumont
need never know the circumstances as
you have to!d them to me. or that the
Englishman's alibi has been proved by
you. The arrest of these others will
make It easy for the police to keep the
secret. Now, will that assurance render
your heart lighter on the stage to-night?"
"You shall see, if you will accept a
box," I said. And I let him press my
hand. Then I drove home. Hardly had I
reached there when Maxime came.
"He came under another name."
"Because, It arrears, he Is engaged to
be married also within the last few days,
and wished to keep his meeting with me
a 6ecret- I only learned that last night."
"He came to you after calling at the
house of the British Home Secretary In
London. He was seen to enter there by
a private detective, and though he cer
tainly was not seen coming out, he must
have done so, as he was In Paris in the
evening."
"But It Is to the daughter of the British
Home Secretary that he Is engaged; and
Bhe, too, is in Parts now. She came, I
think, a little later, and with friends, so
that the situation was dangerous for him.
You say you know what happened at the
hotel, but I will explain the Inner mean
ing of It. Mr. Brent was to have
brought me my letters. He gave me a
letter case, saying they were In it; at
that instant the lights went out. whether
by design or accident I don't know."
"It was not design on the part of the
police," the chief interrupted. "It hap
pened, it appears, all over the % hoteL"
"When the case was opened by the
commissary of police, and I saw the dia
monds, I was much surprised; the more
so as they had been stolen from the
Comte Rlbaumont a few days ago. Again
I confide In you as a man of honor. They
were the property of a dear friend, an
elderly lady well known In Paris, who Is
an inveterate gambler, but a charming
woman.
"She dared not tell her husband of her
losses, but begged Maxime to sell the
jewels for her In Amsterdam and have
them replaced with paste. On his way
there to carry out this mission the neck
lace was stolen from him. You can Im
agine his state of mind and my surprise
on seeing It reappear In io extraordinary
a way. I believed that somehow Noel
Brent had recovered It; and it wu only
to keep my letters (which I had not yet
received) out of the affair, and also the
Comte de Rlbaumont's name In connec
tion with the diamonds, that I told the
commissary of i police that the necklace
was a gift from my lover. The Instant I
had spoken the words I regretted them,
for fear of consequences, but lt.wu then
too late. '
"When the police had gone I asked Mr.
Brent for my letters. He said he thought
he had given them to me; and he knew
no more of the diamonds than I did— far
less, indeed.
"I was In despair at discovering . that
my letters were gone, though I was
thankful, for the Comte de Rlbaumont's
sake, to have the necklace, which since
I have given to ~*m. Mr. Brent believed
that the letters must have been stolen
from him In the train, though he could
not account for the presence of the jewels
in his pocket: but as he suspected a man
who had traveled with him, he determined
to try and find him, promising to bring
news to my house after the theater at 12
o'clock.
"He came a little later, having been de
tained with friends at the hotel till mid
night. One of these friends was Miss
Revelstoke. He had employed a private
detective named Dubols, but had learned
nothing yet and, while he was telling me
"In England I had what might be called
a slight flirtation with Noel Brent, who la
popular In society. We exchanged letters,
which were a little foolish— nothing more.
Yet when I became engaged to the Comte
de Rlbaumont, only a short time ago (It
was to have remained a secret until next
year, on account of my professional en
gagement), I was distressed that such let
ters should be In another man's posses
sion. I would not be satisfied with being
told that they were burnt, at my request.
I wrote and asked Mr. Brent to bring me
the letters and I would meet him at the
Elysee Palace Hotel to take them from
him."
"You say he could not possibly have
committed It, dear mademoiselle T' smiled
the chief. "You are a stanch partisan."
"But Mr. Brent was at my house when
the murder was committed." I said quick
ly, it Is hard for me to come and tell
you this, because If the Comte de Rlbau
mont, to whom I am engaged, should
come to know it, he would not easily for
give me. Monsieur Blanchard. if I tell
you the whole truth frankly, cannot you
save me from exposure, yet at the same
time free the man whose Innocence I can
prove to you? It would kill me to break
with the Comte de Rlbaumont,"
"Dear mademoiselle, trust me to do the
best for you." said the chief, moved al
ready, as I could see, by the tears In my
eyes and the touch of my hand on bis
arm. "You have been frank. I will be
equally so. I should have communicated
with you on the subject of the accused
Eugllshman, as I was aware of what took
place between you at the hotel, but I re
ceived a reauest from a very high quar
ter Indeed to hold my hand for the mo
ment. How comes It, If you are engaged
to the Comte de Ribaumont, that you
made the statement you did at the Elysee
Palace concerning this Monsieur Brent?"
"It Is that which I have come to tell
you— that, and much besides," I answer
ed. "I'll throw myself upon your mercy.
\ou shall have all my confidence:
A gallant man is the chief of police I
His first words to me were In congratu
lation upon my success It the new play
last night. This gave me the cue I
wished for. It was well. I said, that I
had not to act the part for the first
time to-night, or I should fear to dis
grace myself, so much anxiety had I
suffered since seeing the papers and
reading what had happened to a friend
of mine who was accused of a murder
which he could not possibly have com
mitted.
My brain was clearer now— now that
the treaty was In the safe at the Foreign
Office— and I could think. On my way
to the chief of police I devised a story
which should render one of the enemy's
trump cards useless. It would depart but
little from the truth; and, thanks to the
revelations made to me In malice by
Ipanoff, it would exactly fit In with the
tale which Noel Brent had told to the
Juge d'Instructlon. It would. In fact,
supplement his.
I was sure of an audience with the
chief of police, who Is a gentleman and
a patron of the theater— when he finds
time.
the young man went away, and In an In
stant returned to usher Into the room an
elderly, official-looking personage.
If only 1 could have escaped two min
utes sooner! But there was no actual In
discretion In my being here, with my car
riage waiting at the door. I rose, bade
Maxime adieu in a formal manner and
slipped Into his hand the note which I
had intended to put into the safe.
"At 7, then, Monsieur le Comte," I
added, as If I reminded him of an. ap
pointment; and I knew that he would
take it so. He would come to my house,
and I should see him for a few minutes
before leaving for the theater. Then I
.would tell him what I had hoped to tell
him now — about the beautiful English
girl who had called upon me— the fiancee
of my friend Noel Brent. That would
pave the way for Miss Revelstoke, and
help me to make him believe in me If
Count Ipanoff tried to take such re
venge as lay still In his power.
Then I had to go— there was nothing
else for me to do. And at last I had
time to keep my promise to Miss Revel
stoke.
THE SUNDAY CALL.
5
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