Passenger from Calais — Chapters 25 & 26

CHAPTER XXV.

I returned to my hotel vexed and irritated beyond measure by my passage at arms with Lady Henriette Standish, and hating the prospect of any further dealings with her.

I very cordially echoed her repeated cry for Lady Claire.

Matters would have been very different had her strong-minded sister been on the spot to use her influence and help us with her counsel.

What a contrast between the two women!

I was more and more drawn to the one, and more and more heartily despised the other.

With my mind full of the beautiful creature who had made me a willing captive to her charms, her gracious presence was recalled to me by a message from under her own hand.

As I passed the threshold of my hotel, the hall porter gave me a telegram from Lady Claire.

It had come via London, but the office of origin was Marseilles.

"Reached so far, yesterday," it said.

"One of them turned up this morning--have no fear--exchange not effected--shall remain here for the present--Hotel Terminus.

"CLAIRE."

I read and re-read this passage with a delightful feeling that it brought me into touch with my love, and I may be permitted for seeing in it clear proof of her bright wit and intelligence.

She told me just exactly all that it was essential to know: of the pursuit, of the absence of pressing danger, of the abortive attempt to exchange babies, and where she was to be found.

Suppose that I had not met Lady Henriette, I was fully prepared for anything that might occur.

It was now barely 10 A. M.

, and the time intervening before the departure of the eastward bound express (three and a half hours) was none too much to carry out my intentions as to Lady Henriette.

I first of all ordered a covered landau to be harnessed as speedily as possible, and to be sent to await me in a side street near the Hôtel Modena; then I summoned l'Echelle and bade him make all ready for the journey.

I also told him that I should be busily engaged that forenoon; but that as I might be obliged to run it very close for the train, he was to make all preparations, to take the tickets, and await me on the platform.

I had debated anxiously with myself how far I should betray the presence of Lady Henriette in Aix to l'Echelle, and decided that, although I had no particular reason to doubt him, I felt that it would be more prudent to keep the fact to myself.

For the same reason I kept him busily engaged in my bedroom packing, lest he should spy upon my movements.

There was still the fear that Falfani might be on the watch, but I had been assured by l'Echelle that the Blackadder party were so satisfied by the news he gave them that they left the business of shadowing almost entirely to him.

I was pretty sure that I reached the Hôtel Modena unobserved.

I came upon the carriage by the way, and as I passed briefly desired the driver to follow me to the Hôtel Modena.

Arriving there, I sent up my name, and followed it, a little unceremoniously, to Lady Henriette's sitting-room.

She was there, dressed in hat and jacket, and so far disposed to comply with my wishes.

Her maid, Victorine, was with her, the baby on her knee.

Her baggage, happily light enough, was there, packed and all ready for a start.

But if I thought that Lady Henriette meant to yield without another skirmish I was sadly mistaken.

I was in for much more than a skirmish;

it was to be a battle royal.

"The carriage is at the door," I said as pleasantly as possible.

"We have nearly an hour's drive before us, and I am delighted to think that you are ready and willing to go with me."

"I am ready, as you see, but not willing," she answered, bridling up with a scornful air.

"Very much the reverse indeed.

The more I think over it the more outrageous and preposterous your behaviour seems.

Where are we going?

I insist upon knowing.

I must have a plain categorical answer or I will not move an inch."

Her dogged, determined air was belied by her dress and the obvious preparations already made for departure.

Her present attitude I set down to the vacillation of her character.

She might make up her mind one moment and one way, and yet be quite prepared to change it the next.

"You are fully entitled to know where you are going, and I have not the smallest desire to keep it from you," I replied, still speaking in a smooth, courteous voice.

"I propose that you should take up your residence for a time--the very shortest time possible--at Le Bourget, a small place at the head of the lake.

You may know it; there is a snug little hotel in the village, the Dent du Chat.

You will like it."

"I shall not like it.

I dislike the whole idea exceedingly.

Why should I be buried alive in such an out-of-the-way spot?"

"It will be no worse than Fuentellato, a place you chose for yourself."

"I have a house of my own there--my own servants.

It is perfectly safe."

"Not now, believe me, they will come upon you there; trace you easily and quickly, and they are capable of any violence to capture and deprive you of your treasure."

I pointed to the child on the maid's knee.

"I shall be more at their mercy here in Aix."

"Be guided by me.

I am certain of what I say.

All will be well if you will only keep out of the way now for a few hours, perhaps at most a couple of days.

If they do not find you at once they will never find you.

Only let me have a short start ahead and I'll lead them a pretty dance, and take them further and further away.

You may rely on it, and I assure you they will never be able to find you or do you any harm."

"I wish I could believe you," she said.

"If I could only believe in you and trust you as Claire does," she murmured pathetically, still tortured by doubt.

"Why has Claire deserted me?

If she were only here, or I knew where to find her!"

I was on the point of imparting my last news, but I checked myself.

Lady Henriette had seen her last, and must be well aware of the direction she was taking to Lyons and Marseilles.

It would only unsettle her to know that her sister was at Marseilles to-day, and would be at Genoa to-morrow.

She would be mad to join her, and it was my most earnest wish that, for the present at least, Lady Henriette should keep quiet in the background with her charge.

"You will soon be able to communicate with her, no doubt.

Of course you arranged that at Culoz?"

"We arranged nothing.

It was all so hurried, and we had much to talk about.

She was so hard on me when I declared I could not part with my blessed boy.

We had words--" "Ah!"

I had heard enough to know that there had been a strong difference of opinion, a sharp quarrel probably, and that Lady Claire had not spared her sister at this fresh exhibition of ridiculous weakness.

"May I ask, please, whether you were to believe in me or not?"

I

resumed, taking up the discussion where I had left it.

"We must be moving if we are to go at all."

Her acquiescence, now tardily given, was surly and ungracious.

"I suppose I cannot help myself; I am quite at your mercy.

You may be sure I shall not easily forget this, or forgive your overbearing treatment.

I will go, but under protest."

She led the way herself and entered the carriage first, motioning to Victorine to hand her the baby and take her seat inside.

She made no such sign to me, although I followed close behind.

But I also got in without invitation, only explaining that it might not be wise to show myself on the box.

The coachman had his orders, and he drove off briskly along the Marlioz road till he reached the turning towards the head of the lake.

In less than an hour we pulled up before the Hôtel Dent du Chat, a simple, unpretending hostelry, to which I had telegraphed in advance, stating my needs.

We were received with profuse civility, the best of everything placed at our disposal, a best at which Lady Henriette, as I might have expected, turned up her nose, sniffing and scornful.

She uttered no complaint, she would not address a word to me; her air was one of lofty, contemptuous reserve; she intimated plainly that we were "dead cuts."

Only at the last, just as I was driving away and lifted my hat in farewell, she yielded to an impulse of despair, and seized my arm in almost frenzied appeal.

"You must not, you cannot desert me; I will not be left like this.

No man, no gentleman would do it.

I beg and implore you to remain within reach, somewhere near at any rate.

I can never face this place alone."

Her last appeal touched me to the quick.

Once more I sought to explain the dire necessity for this act that seemed so barbarous, but she was deaf to all my arguments, and still clung to me nervously as I climbed into the carriage.

When at length I got away, and I persisted in leaving, being so fully satisfied it was for the best, her piteous, reproachful accents still rung in my ears, and I shall count that return drive to Aix as the most miserable hour I have passed in my life.

The whole episode had occupied much time, and it was already past one when I reëntered the town.

I drove straight to the railway station, and was met outside it by the faithful l'Echelle.

"Monsieur, monsieur, will you believe it?

They have gone half an hour ago, and not by the eastern but the western express."

"You saw them?"

"I spoke to them.

Falfani himself told me of the change in their plans.

The latest news from their man in the south was so positive, and has so convinced my lord, that he is hastening full speed to join Tiler, and they are only too delighted to leave you behind."

I laughed aloud with intense satisfaction.

"You do not mind, monsieur?

You have no reason to fear them?"

"Not the least in the world, they are playing into my hands.

I, too, have changed my plans.

I shall now remain in Aix for some time longer.

I shall be glad to go on with the baths."

But I was thinking really of that poor creature I had abandoned at Le Bourget, and overjoyed to think that I might now meet her wishes, and perchance regain something of her good-will.

Once more I took the road to Le Bourget, driving over by the first _fiacre_ I could pick up on the stand, a much slower journey than the first, and it was nearly 3 P. M.

when I reached the little hotel.

It was indeed a day of surprises, of strange emotions and moving incidents.

When I alighted and asked for "Mrs. Blair," I was answered abruptly that she was gone.

"Gone?

When?

How?"

I cried, in utter amazement.

"Madame went very soon after monsieur," said the _patronne_, in high dudgeon.

"She was not complimentary, she said this place was too _triste_, that it got on her nerves.

She called me up and said I was to bring her the _Indicateur_.

Then she must have a carriage as soon as it could be prepared to drive her to Culoz, fifteen miles away, meaning to take the train from there."

"Not to Aix?"

"Assuredly not, for when I suggested that she could more easily find the train there she told me to hold my tongue, that she knew very well what she was about, and wanted no observations from me."

To Culoz?

She was bound then to follow her sister, I felt sure of it;

and I was aghast, foreshadowing the new dangers opening before her.

CHAPTER XXVI.

[_The Lady Claire Standish has her say.

_] It was as much as I could do to restrain myself when I saw my gallant knight, the Colonel, rush at that despicable creature, Lord Blackadder, and shake him.

I wanted to put my head out of the window and cry, "Well done!"

But I saw the folly of it, much as I was delighted, and checked any demonstration of joy.

I had no time to spare for anything outside our settled plan, so I jumped out on to the platform at once, and closely followed by Philpotts joined Henriette, and cried: "Quick, quick, dear, the train goes on in less than ten minutes.

Give me the child, we must exchange again."

"What do you mean?"

she gasped, and looked at me dazed and bewildered.

"Why should I part with my boy, my own boy!

I cannot, indeed I cannot.

Why?

Why?"

"Because Blackadder is over there, and in another minute or two the child will be taken forcibly from you.

Luckily I can still save it."

"Oh, but please, Claire, please explain.

I do not understand, not in the least.

What am I to do?

I haven't heard, I do not know."

"Go on to Fuentellato with the dummy.

It is the easiest thing in the world.

They will follow you, Colonel Annesley will see to that, while I carry our darling to some secure hiding-place and keep out of sight until we can meet.

There, do not, for heaven's sake, delay.

Give me the child."

"I can't, I can't. I will not part with it.

My own, my precious babe.

Never.

Nothing will induce me."

"Upon my word, Henriette, you are too aggravating and impossible.

To think that now at the eleventh hour you should fail me and break down.

Are you going to spoil everything!

Let me take little Ralph;" and I put out my arms for the child, which Victorine held.

But the mother stood between us, seized the baby convulsively, and with a gesture of repulsion cried: "Go away, go away, you shall not have him.

I don't care what happens, I will keep him against all the world."

I pleaded and stormed in turn, I tried everything but force, all without avail.

My foolish sister seemed to have taken leave of her senses; she thought nothing of the nearly certain collapse of our schemes, her one overmastering idea was, like any tigress, to resist all attempts to deprive her of her cub.

Meanwhile the time ran on.

Already the officials were crying "_En voiture_," and I knew my train was timed to leave at five minutes past 8 A.

M.

If I lingered I should lose it, no great matter perhaps, seeing that the exchange, my principal object, had not been made; but if I remained with Henriette, she with her baby and I with mine, the whole of the artifice might at any moment be laid bare.

I had to decide then and there, and all I could think of at the time was to keep the enemy in the dark as to the doubled part of the baby.

At first I thought of sending Philpotts on alone with her charge and remaining with Henriette.

She was so helpless, so weak and vacillating that I had small hope of her getting through to Fuentellato by herself.

That was clearly the wisest course, and I should have taken it, but I was sorely vexed and put out by her obstinate refusal to play her part; and I told her so.

"Once more and for the last time, Henriette, will you do what I want?"

I asked her peremptorily.

She only hugged her baby the closer and whispered a soft lullaby.

"Then I shall go on with the other.

It may be best.

They may still be drawn after me, and leave you to your own devices.

The only thing for you to do is to take the first train the other way,--it will be here in ten minutes,--keep low and you may get through into Italy unobserved."

"Are you really deserting me?"

she cried piteously.

"When shall I see you again?"

"I shall go round the long journey to Marseilles, by the South of France, and will join you at Fuentellato.

There is no reason why you should not get there.

Colonel Annesley will detain the others here, you may be sure of that.

Good-bye, now," and without another word Philpotts and I ran round, regained the up platform, resumed our seats by the narrowest margin and proceeded on our way to Amberieu.

The reaction from this agitating scene was little less than despair and collapse.

So soon as I could bring myself to think calmly and at leisure, I realized that I had done a very foolish thing.

Was it possible for Henriette to get off by herself?

Hardly, she had not the nerve, I had almost said the wit, to escape alone from the toils and snares that encompassed her.

I blamed myself, I became a prey to the bitterest self-reproach for having abandoned her, for allowing myself to give way to temper, and treat her so cruelly.

As the train rattled on, one thought took possession of me.

I must get out and go back instantly, at least at the very first opportunity.

I must retrace my steps and return again to Culoz, where I hoped to be in time to support and strengthen her, please God save her from the consequences of my unkind and ill-considered action.

Accordingly, at the very next station, Virieu, I alighted.

It was still no more than 8. 21. In less than an hour I was in the return train and once more at Culoz, where, sending Philpotts to hide with her charge in the inmost recesses of the ladies' waiting-room, I vainly explored the station for any signs of Henriette, but to my delight she was nowhere in sight.

I was fairly entitled to suppose that she had gone on.

The place was still in a turmoil, the consequences no doubt of the affray expressly begun by Colonel Annesley to befriend me.

I narrowly escaped being seen by some of my enemies, but they were evidently too much preoccupied by their indignation at the outrage put upon that great personage, Lord Blackadder.

I passed within an inch or two of my gallant Colonel and was sorely tempted to speak to him, but was deterred by the possible mischief it might entail.

I was relieved when they all took seats in the eastward bound train, going only as far as Aix-les-Bains, where, as I heard it stated by the Culoz officials, the case was to be submitted to the Commissary of Police.

I felt sure that my gallant Colonel would hold his own, I felt no very great concern for him.

Although not fully satisfied as to Henriette, I was so far satisfied by coming upon all the parties, Ralph, Blackadder, and the rest, at Culoz, that she had disappeared from the scene without interference.

I had now to decide upon my own movements.

I debated with myself whether I should not follow my sister to Fuentellato, to which I made sure she had gone, and I had every reason to hope that I could eventually join her there.

But it seemed to be throwing away that same chance of mystification which I had always kept in view, which might have served me so well but for her weakness, and I still clung to my hope of drawing them after me on the wrong scent.

At one time I thought of venturing boldly into their midst and appearing openly at Aix; but this would probably end in abruptly pricking the bubble, and nothing more was to be done.

I thought of sending Philpotts to hunt up the Colonel and convey a letter to him detailing my situation, and was much taken with this idea, which I presently rejected because I did not clearly see what good could come of it.

I was tortured with doubts, unable to decide for the best, and at last, from sheer inability to choose, resolved to adhere to my original plan of travelling south.

I would at least go to Marseilles, which I could reach that very night, and once there would be guided by circumstances, seeking only to control them to the extent of reporting my whereabouts to Henriette at Fuentellato, and to the Colonel via London as arranged.

This as it proved was the very wisest course I could have adopted, as will presently appear.

I was doomed to a long wait at Culoz.

There was no train due westward till 12. 40, and I had to put in nearly three solid hours, which I spent in wandering into the village, where I found an unpretending _auberge_ and a rather uneatable breakfast.

Everywhere I was met with wearisome delays.

A slow train to Amberieu, a still slower cross journey to Lyons, which I did not reach till nearly 4 P. M.

, and learnt that another hour or more must elapse before the departure of the next Marseilles express.

The journey seemed interminable, but just as I was losing all patience, I received a fillip that awoke me to alertness, and set all my nerves tingling.

The man Tiler, the second detective, the man whom I had already befooled more than once, was there now on the platform, waiting like myself to embark upon the 5. 19 train south to Marseilles.

He had come after me; that was perfectly clear.

He, and he alone, and I rejoiced greatly that I had to do entirely with him.

I had tried my strength with him more than once already, and felt myself his equal in guile.

Although he owed me a grudge and would certainly be upon his guard, I thought myself strong enough to face and outwit him.