Annie Haynes Premium Collection – 8 Murder Mysteries in One Volume. Annie Haynes

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СКАЧАТЬ There are those who would give me good English gold to know that secret—Miladi Palmer, she would pay me well, for she do not love miladi. And there is somebody else too, but I do not go to them, I wait now—I wait until Sir Anthony send for the police, until he have my boxes searched, and then—then I go up to Heron's Carew once more, and I say 'Ah! you think it one very fine thing, Sir Anthony, to set the police upon poor Célestine, do you not. How if I have a secret—I—that will put the police on to miladi, your wife?' How would Sir Anthony look then?"

      Undoubtedly Mr. Lennox was keenly interested now. "He would look pretty much of a fool, I should think, mademoiselle. But how would it be possible for you to put the police on miladi's track. I can't see?"

      "Ah! But I see," and Célestine nodded wisely. "And I do not speak without what you call the book. I have a proof of every word that I shall say to him."

      "Have you really?" Mr. Lennox leaned forward to look into her face. "And is it something that puts miladi in the power of the police. You must be very sure of your ground before you speak, you know, mademoiselle."

      Célestine laughed. "Oh, but I am sure, and it is something that the police are but now looking for—something that they will give a great price to know."

      There was no mistaking Mr. Lennox's interest now; his breath quickened. "I tell you what, mademoiselle, it seems to me that this is a case that needs careful handling. It won't do for you to go to Heron's Carew, yourself."

      "But I tell you that that will be my revenge," Célestine reiterated.

      "Suppose Sir Anthony gets the first look in," Lennox suggested. "Suppose he has the police at Heron's Carew, and before you have time to speak he gives you in custody, on some trumped-up charge of course. He might, you know, mademoiselle, and you wouldn't enjoy that, to think nothing of what I and your other friends would feel if we saw you marched down the village street by the police like a common thief. No revenge you could take would make up to us for that, mademoiselle."

      Célestine hesitated, her change of countenance showed that the prospect was an alarming one.

      "But what can I do then?" she debated. "I don't see—"

      Lennox leaned across the little wooden table that divided them. "You could let a friend go, mademoiselle," he suggested. "A friend might manage it for you. If you look upon me as a friend, and I am proud to hope you do, if you would put the matter into my hands, why, you know it would be an honour and a pleasure to come to serve you."

      Célestine considered the matter a minute, then she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "If Monsieur would be so good, I see now that it would be safer. But indeed I do not like to trouble you."

      "Trouble taken for you is a pleasure to me, mademoiselle," the inspector declared gallantly. "I will walk up to Heron's Carew without delay if you will give me the track to go upon."

      Célestine looked all around and lowered her voice. "I will tell you all from the beginning. You remember perhaps that I say that on the night of Lady Denborough's dinner party miladi have a migraine, that she stay at home and go out later."

      Lennox nodded. "I remember thinking that she must have gone out to meet a lover myself."

      Célestine shook her head. "It was no lover as I told you before, monsieur. The next day I find that one of the wardrobes door is locked. I wonder and I wonder why it is, and at last I find a key that fit the lock, and I get it open. Inside, pushed down in what you call the well, I find the white tea-gown Miladi was wearing the evening before. It is all dusty now, and bedragged, and there is ink on the skirt and the bodice and the sleeves are all stained with blood. Yes, indeed, monsieur," as Lennox, in spite of his self-control, uttered an exclamation of astonishment. "Well I say nothing—me. But I take out the gown, and I put it away in one of my places, and when Miladi come to look for it, it has gone and she never guess who has it."

      "Still I don't see," Mr. Lennox debated. "Her nose might have bled."

      "Pah!" Célestine said contemptuously. "You have not heard all, monsieur. That night a man was killed in Leinster Avenue, and all London was trying to find a woman who visited him, a tall woman with golden hair, and only I, Célestine, knew that it was miladi for whom they were looking. Miladi went up to see that man in the flat that night that he died. Now, monsieur, shall I not have my revenge?"

      "Perhaps," Lennox said slowly, "but it won't be the easy affair you think, mademoiselle. It can't be dealt with by the local police. And it isn't a matter that I can walk up to Heron's Carew and lay before Sir Anthony; that would be to spoil everything—to give the whole show away. I have got a friend at Scotland Yard; if you will allow me we will take his advice upon it, and see what he thinks we ought to do."

      "As you like," Célestine's eyes narrowed into slits. "We will ask your friend what you like, only I will have my revenge," she said decidedly. "You understand, monsieur, I must not be deprived of my revenge."

      Chapter XXIV

       Table of Contents

      "Peggy is in the garden; you will find her there." The Dowager Lady Carew looked vaguely at the window. It was evident that she did not want to be disturbed.

      With a word of apology Chesterham stepped out on to the terrace. He knew where he would be most likely to find Peggy. At an early stage of his engagement he had been made free of her favourite haunts. At the very end of the shrubbery a drooping copper beech made a shelter on the hottest day. Peggy had a table there and a couple of lounge chairs. As he parted the branches, she looked up with a quick exclamation. Her face looked white and wan, her eyes were heavy and there were purple shadows beneath.

      "Peggy, sweetheart, what is the matter? What have you been doing to yourself?" Chesterham dropped the leafy screen and came forward eagerly.

      But Peggy drew back, she put aside his outstretched hands. "Not to-day. Please don't," she said, with a little air of dignity that sat oddly on her small childish face.

      Chesterham paused, the smile died out of his eyes. "Why, Peggy, what is it?"

      Peggy laid her hand on her breast as if to hush its throbbing; she raised her eyes and looked straight at the man before her.

      "An hour ago," she said steadily, "I was in Lount Wood."

      "In Lount Wood?" the man's eyes fell guiltily. "Peggy, what do you mean?"

      "I think you know," the girl said quietly, "I saw you—you were not alone."

      "You would not blame me for a few minutes' idle talk Peggy, I overtook the girl and these Frenchwomen always try to entangle you—"

      Peggy gave him one contemptuous glance. "I was there when you came," she said icily, "I was sketching the Three Beeches, a saw you meet her."

      "You saw us meet!" For a moment the man had the grace to look disconcerted, then he made a desperate effort to recover his usual manner, to brazen it out. "It was only a little idle flirtation, Peggy. I was a fool and worse, I acknowledge it, but a thing like that does not affect my feeling for you. That—"

      Peggy's slight contemptuous glance did not alter.

      "Does it not?" she questioned icily. "I had hoped the contrary, for I must confess the knowledge that you could make appointments СКАЧАТЬ