The Sign of the Stranger Part 12

I glanced at the boots she was wearing, and saw that they were small dark-brown ones but with those same Louis XV heels that had left such tell-tale traces.

"Is your secret such a terrible one that you fear to entrust it to me?"

I asked gravely after a brief pause.

"You couldn't understand--you couldn't believe the real facts even if I told you," was her reply. "Besides, this refusal of the woman Lejeune prevents me knowing the real truth myself. She intends that I shall suffer--that I shall pay the penalty of the crime of another. She vowed revenge and, alas!" she sighed, "she has it now."

"But she's quite a common person," I remarked, for knowing the Continent as I did, and being some thing of a cosmopolitan, I put her down as of the lower cla.s.s.

"It is her foreign ill-breeding that renders her such a bitter enemy.

She has no pity and no remorse--indeed what Frenchwoman has?"

"Then I was a fool to let her escape! Had I known, I would have given the pair into the detective's hands and faced the worst."

"And by so doing you would have caused my death!" was her low remark in a hard strained voice. We had climbed the hill and arrived at the edge of Geddington Chase, where we halted at the old weather-worn stile which gave entrance to the wood.

"Yet by allowing them to escape it seems that I have unwittingly been their accessory!" I remarked. "You do not antic.i.p.ate that this woman Lejeune will reveal the truth and thus place you in a position of safety. Therefore, why should we s.h.i.+eld her?"

"I feel sure she will not--now that she is friendly with Joseph Logan."

"You mean the man who was with you at early morning?"

She nodded in the affirmative, and with a sigh declared: "The interests of the pair are entirely identical. Even if she wished to reveal what she knew, he would prevent her. I never antic.i.p.ated that they would become acquainted and thus unite their evil intentions against myself!"

"Against you?" I cried. "Why?"

"It is an intrigue--a vile and ingenious plot against myself and certain persons who are innocent and unoffending. Ah! If you only knew the woman Lejeune as I have reason to know her, you would not ask such a question. You, too, would be well aware that the man or woman unfortunate enough to fall into her cunningly-devised pitfalls may at once abandon all hope of the future--for death alone can release them from the bond." I failed to understand the true meaning of those words which sounded to my ears so wild and tragic. The mystery of it was all-consuming. I tried to discern some light through the dark cloud that had so suddenly fallen and enveloped my well-beloved, but all was utterly inscrutable.

We crossed the stile and walked on into the dim lonely gloom of the Chase. I took her hand and felt that she was trembling. Of what, I wondered, was she in fear? Was it because of the sudden return of that rough seafarer, Richard Keene? Was it of some denunciation that could be made by Mademoiselle Lejeune; or was it because of what had occurred down in that damp hollow behind the beeches in the south avenue--that spot that bore the imprint of her shoes?

"Lolita," I said at last in a soft, low voice, "are you aware of the terrible affair--I mean the discovery in the park?"

"Yes," was her mechanical answer, without, however, daring to look me in the face. "I have heard all about it."

"Well," I said, "the unfortunate young man is unidentified except--" and I hesitated.

"Except what?" she gasped quickly. "What have they discovered?"

"They have discovered nothing," I a.s.sured her. "But I myself have discovered that the man now dead p.a.w.ned, a year ago, your amethyst and pearl necklet--the one your father, the Earl, gave you for a birthday present in India, and, further, that he wore upon his finger a ring containing your portrait!"

"The police!--do they know these facts?" she gasped, halting and glaring at me.

"They are known only to myself," I answered in a grave, low tone. "What have you to say?" For a moment she stood with her countenance blanched to the lips, and a strange haunted look in her eyes. Summoning all her courage, her gloved fingers clenching themselves into the palms, she bowed her head and answered hoa.r.s.ely--

"I have nothing to say--nothing--nothing!"

I stood in silence regarding her, utterly mystified. Was it guilt that was written so vividly upon her face, or was it the fierce desperation of an innocent woman hounded to her death?

Ah! had I known the startling truth at that moment, how differently would I have acted!

CHAPTER TWELVE.

LOVE AND LOLITA.

To press her further was out of the question. I had sufficiently explained that I held the knowledge to myself, and that I did not intend to divulge to the police what I had discovered.

That she had been fully aware of the unknown's death was quite plain and equally so that she feared lest the inquiries might lead the police in her direction.

The silent manner in which she had changed her mud-bedraggled dress was in itself sufficient to show that she was well aware that I suspected her of being implicated in the young man's death, and her mute thankfulness was also very marked.

In silence we walked on through the forest gloom where the damp smell of the moss and dead leaves was welcome after the dry August heat outside, until presently, after debating within myself whether it were wise to place her upon her guard, I suddenly put my hand upon my love's arm, saying--

"Lolita, you know that your interests in every particular are mine, therefore it is, I think, but right that you should know that the police have already made a discovery in connexion with the--the unfortunate affair in the park. They have found at the spot the marks of small shoes with French heels. Casts have been taken of those imprints, and it is suspected that they are of your shoes!"

"My footprints!" she gasped, turning and glaring at me with wide-open frightened eyes. "Ah! I--I never thought of that! It never occurred to me!" And then I saw how she trembled visibly from head to foot. She had striven to remain calm, but had now utterly broken down.

"The situation is perilous," I said quite quietly, "inasmuch as the man Redway has taken casts, and knowing that only you in this district are in the habit of wearing such shoes, I fear he suspects. He will, no doubt, seek some secret means, probably through the servants, to compare his cast with the boots you are in the habit of wearing."

"Ah! I see," she remarked thoughtfully. "Then I must either hide or destroy them all, unknown to Weston."

"That is best. I will help you," I said. "We will do it as soon as we return. If you will collect them all I'll pack them in my suit-case and send them up to the cloak-room at St Pancras. They'll be safe enough there for a few months."

"An excellent idea," she said. "I must get rid of them at all costs.

I'll order some others from Francis--shoes with flat heels, although I hate them."

I could not, however, help noticing that she had actually admitted being present at the spot where the dead man was discovered, yet she had made no mention of him. My object was to learn his name and who he really was, but with a woman's cleverness she vouchsafed no information. I think she saw that I suspected her of the crime, although my intense love for her prevented me withdrawing from her in loathing as would otherwise have been the case.

That strange cipher that I had found secreted in the dead man's waistcoat occurred to me, and I longed to be in possession of its key.

I knew a man who often amused himself in deciphering such things, and counted himself something of an expert in such matters, but I had not yet had time to submit it to him and obtain his opinion.

As we continued our way she expressed a hope that the man Redway would not make investigations in her wardrobe during her absence.

"He may bribe Weston, you know," she suggested in an apprehensive tone.

"And if he found that his cast corresponded with my foot, the result would surely be fatal. I could not live to face it, Willoughby. How could I?"

"Don't let us antic.i.p.ate such a thing. Redway will not be able to enter the Hall without some very good excuse, that's very certain. Up to the present only two persons are aware that you were out in the Park all night--the man whom I afterwards found with the Frenchwoman, and myself."

"Ah! yes, thanks to you I succeeded in returning home as though I had only been out for an early walk. The manner in which you accomplished it was most ingenious. It has freed me from suspicion. Yet in the footmarks has arisen another and much more serious matter."

"The boots you must leave to me. I will get rid of them, never fear," I a.s.sured her; and she pressed the gloved hand I held, as though to confirm her trust in me.

Yet was I acting as accessory to a foul and dastardly crime. A man, unarmed and unsuspecting, had been cruelly and secretly done to death, and I, because I loved her, was seeking by all means in my power to throw the police off the scent and dispel even those grave suspicions that were so strongly increasing in my own mind daily, nay hourly.

Walking at her side I tried to argue with myself. But I was too loyal to her. That face drawn and haggard, the paleness of which even her veil failed to hide, was the countenance of a woman whose heart was torn with conflicting emotions--one whose enemies had triumphed, leaving her friendless, crushed--and guilty before the face of the world.

We went on, past the smithy, into Stanion village, an old-world place with its grey church-spire the most prominent figure in the landscape.

The sun was setting, and our long shadows lay in front of us upon the dusty highway.

Young Sampson, the squire of Ashton, over near Oundle, whirled past us in his ten-horse Panhard, enveloping us in a cloud of dust, pa.s.sing before he became aware of who we were. Then we turned into the rectory, where in the cool little drawing-room Lolita had a brief conversation with the worthy rector's wife concerning a forthcoming sale of work.

Oh! those everlasting jumble sales and sales of work.