The Blonde Lady Part 59

"I did as Mr. Shears has said. On Sat.u.r.day night, I came down here to the boudoir, took the lamp and, in the morning, carried it ... to that man."

"But no," objected the baron; "what you say is impossible."

"Impossible! Why?"

"Because I found the door of the boudoir locked in the morning."

She coloured, lost countenance and looked at Shears as though to ask his advice.

The Englishman seemed struck by Alice's embarra.s.sment even more than by the baron's objection. Had she, then, no reply to make? Did the confession that confirmed the explanation which he, Shears, had given of the theft of the Jewish lamp conceal a lie which an examination of the facts at once laid bare?

The baron continued:

"The door was locked, I repeat. I declare that I found the bolt as I left it at night. If you had come that way, as you pretend, someone must have opened the door to you from the inside--that is to say, from the boudoir or from our bedroom. Now there was no one in these two rooms ... no one except my wife and myself."

Shears bent down quickly and covered his face with his two hands to hide it. He had flushed scarlet. Something resembling too sudden a light had struck him and left him dazed and ill at ease. The whole stood revealed to him like a dim landscape from which the darkness was suddenly lifting.

Alice Demun was innocent.

Alice Demun was innocent. That was a certain, blinding fact and, at the same time, explained the sort of embarra.s.sment which he had felt since the first day at directing the terrible accusation against this young girl. He saw clearly now. He knew. It needed but a movement and, then and there, the irrefutable proof would stand forth before him.

He raised his head and, after a few seconds, as naturally as he could, turned his eyes toward Mme. d'Imblevalle.

She was pale, with that unaccustomed pallor that overcomes us at the relentless hours of life. Her hands, which she strove to hide, trembled imperceptibly.

"Another second," thought Shears, "and she will have betrayed herself."

He placed himself between her and her husband, with the imperious longing to ward off the terrible danger which, through his fault, threatened this man and this woman. But, at the sight of the baron, he shuddered to the very depths of his being. The same sudden revelation which had dazzled him with its brilliancy was now enlightening M. d'Imblevalle. The same thought was working in the husband's brain.

He understood in his turn! He saw!

Desperately, Alice Demun strove to resist the implacable truth:

"You are right, monsieur; I made a mistake. As a matter of fact, I did not come in this way. I went through the hall and the garden and, with the help of a ladder...."

It was a supreme effort of devotion ... but a useless effort! The words did not ring true. The voice had lost its a.s.surance and the sweet girl was no longer able to retain her limpid glance and her great air of sincerity. She hung her head, defeated.

The silence was frightful. Mme. d'Imblevalle waited, her features livid and drawn with anguish and fear. The baron seemed to be still struggling, as though refusing to believe in the downfall of his happiness.

At last he stammered:

"Speak! Explain yourself!"

"I have nothing to say, my poor friend," she said, in a very low voice her features wrung with despair.

"Then ... mademoiselle...?"

"Mademoiselle saved me ... through devotion ... through affection ...

and accused herself...."

"Saved you from what? From whom?"

"From that man."

"Bresson?"

"Yes, he held me by his threats.... I met him at a friend's house ...

and I had the madness to listen to him. Oh, there was nothing that you cannot forgive!... But I wrote him two letters ... you shall see them....

I bought them back ... you know how.... Oh, have pity on me.... I have been so unhappy!"

"You! You! Suzanne!"

He raised his clenched fists to her, ready to beat her, ready to kill her. But his arms fell to his sides and he murmured again:

"You, Suzanne!... You!... Is it possible?"

In short, abrupt sentences, she told the heartbreaking and commonplace story: her terrified awakening in the face of the man's infamy, her remorse, her madness; and she also described Alice's admirable conduct: the girl suspecting her mistress's despair, forcing a confession from her, writing to Lupin and contriving this story of a robbery to save her from Bresson's clutches.

"You, Suzanne, you!" repeated M. d'Imblevalle, bent double, overwhelmed.

"How could you...?"

On the evening of the same day, the steamer _Ville de Londres_, from Calais to Dover, was gliding slowly over the motionless water. The night was dark and calm. Peaceful clouds were suggested rather than seen above the boat and, all around, light veils of mist separated her from the infinite s.p.a.ce in which the moon and stars were shedding their cold, but invisible radiance.

Most of the pa.s.sengers had gone to the cabins and saloons. A few of them, however, bolder than the rest, were walking up and down the deck or else dozing under thick rugs in the big rocking-chairs. Here and there the gleam showed of a cigar; and, mingling with the gentle breath of the wind, came the murmur of voices that dared not rise high in the great solemn silence.

One of the pa.s.sengers, who was walking to and fro with even strides, stopped beside a person stretched out on a bench, looked at her and, when she moved slightly, said:

"I thought you were asleep, Mlle. Alice."

"No, Mr. Shears, I do not feel sleepy. I was thinking."

"What of? Is it indiscreet to ask?"

"I was thinking of Mme. d'Imblevalle. How sad she must be! Her life is ruined."

"Not at all, not at all," he said, eagerly. "Her fault is not one of those which can never be forgiven. M. d'Imblevalle will forget that lapse. Already, when we left, he was looking at her less harshly."

"Perhaps ... but it will take long to forget ... and she is suffering."

"Are you very fond of her?"

"Very. That gave me such strength to smile when I was trembling with fear, to look you in the face when I wanted to avoid your glance."

"And are you unhappy at leaving her?"

"Most unhappy. I have no relations or friends.... I had only her...."