The Woman of Mystery Part 37

"Let us be quick then and lose no time. . . . By putting on speed, we shall be sure to catch them. . . ."

But the woman at once objected:

"It's impossible, because the two cars have taken different roads."

"What does that matter, if they lead to the same point. Where are they taking Mme. Delroze?"

"To a castle belonging to the Comtesse Hermine."

"And where is that castle?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? But this is terrible! At least, you know its name.

"No, I don't. Karl never told me."

CHAPTER XVI

THE IMPOSSIBLE STRUGGLE

In the terrible state of distress into which those last words threw him, Paul felt the need of some immediate action, even as he had done at the sight of the banquet given by Prince Conrad. Certainly, all hope was lost. His plan, which was to use the tunnel before the alarm was raised, his plan was shattered. Granting that he succeeded in finding elisabeth and delivering her, a very unlikely contingency, at what moment would this take place? And how was he afterwards to escape the enemy and return to France?

No, henceforward s.p.a.ce and time were both against him. His defeat was such that there was nothing for it but to resign himself and await the final blow.

And yet he did not flinch. He saw that any weakness would be irreparable. The impulse that had carried him so far must be continued unchecked and with more vigor than ever.

He walked up to the spy. The woman was stooping over the body and examining it by the light of one of the lamps which she had taken down.

"He's dead, isn't he?" asked Paul.

"Yes, he's dead. Two bullets. .h.i.t him in the back." And she murmured, in a broken voice, "It's horrible, what I've done. I've killed him myself!

But it's not a murder, sir, is it? And I had the right to, hadn't I?

. . . But it's horrible all the same . . . I've killed Karl!"

Her face, which was young and still rather pretty, though common, was distorted. Her eyes seemed glued to the corpse.

"Who are you?" asked Paul.

She replied, sobbing:

"I was his sweetheart . . . and better than that . . . or rather worse.

He had taken an oath that he would marry me. . . . But Karl's oath! He was such a liar, sir, such a coward! . . . Oh, the things I know of him!

. . . I myself, simply through holding my tongue, gradually became his accomplice. He used to frighten me so! I no longer loved him, but I was afraid of him and obeyed him . . . with such loathing, at the end! . . .

And he knew how I loathed him. He used often to say, 'You are quite capable of killing me some day or other.' No, sir, I did think of it, but I should never have had the courage. It was only just now, when I saw that he was going to stab you . . . and above all when I heard your name. . . ."

"My name? What has that to do with it?"

"You are Madame Delroze's husband."

"Well?"

"Well, I know her. Not for long, only since to-day. This morning, Karl, on his way from Belgium, pa.s.sed through the town where I was and took me to Prince Conrad's. He told me I was to be lady's maid to a French lady whom we were going to take to a castle. I knew what that meant. I should once more have to be his accomplice, to inspire confidence. And then I saw that French lady, I saw her crying; and she was so gentle and kind that I felt sorry for her. I promised to rescue her . . . Only, I never thought that it would be in this way, by killing Karl. . . ."

She drew herself up suddenly and said, in a hard voice:

"But it had to be, sir. It was bound to happen, for I knew too much about him. It had to be he or I. . . . It was he . . . and I can't help it and I'm not sorry. . . . He was the wickedest wretch on earth; and, with people like him, one mustn't hesitate. No, I am not sorry."

Paul asked:

"He was devoted to the Comtesse Hermine, was he not?"

She shuddered and lowered her voice to reply:

"Oh, don't speak of her, please! She is more terrible still; and she is still alive. Ah, if she should ever suspect!"

"Who is the woman?"

"How can I tell? She comes and goes, she is the mistress wherever she may be. . . . People obey her as they do the Emperor. Everybody fears her . . . as they do her brother."

"Her brother?"

"Yes, Major Hermann."

"What's that? Do you mean to say that Major Hermann is her brother?"

"Why, of course! Besides, you have only to look at him. He is the very image of the Comtesse Hermine!"

"Have you ever seen them together?"

"Upon my word, I can't remember. Why do you ask?"

Time was too precious for Paul to insist. The woman's opinion of the Comtesse Hermine did not matter much. He asked:

"She is staying at the prince's?"

"For the present, yes. The prince is on the first floor, at the back; she is on the same floor, but in front."

"If I let her know that Karl has had an accident and that he has sent me, his chauffeur, to tell her, will she see me?"

"Certainly."

"Does she know Karl's chauffeur, whose place I took?"

"No. He was a soldier whom Karl brought with him from Belgium."