The Essential Writings of Marie Belloc Lowndes. Marie Belloc Lowndes

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СКАЧАТЬ a really interesting, distinguished presentment of a man. "Is not this excellent?" exclaimed Mère Bideau eagerly. "What expression, what strength in the mouth, in the eyes!"

      Senator Burton, had the circumstances been other, would perhaps have smiled at the old woman's enthusiasm, and at her intelligent criticism. But now he simply nodded his head gravely. "Yes, that is a very good portrait," he said absently. "And--and--where are the living rooms?"

      "This way, monsieur!" Then, with some surprise, "Would monsieur care to see the appartement? Then I presume monsieur is a friend of my master."

      But the Senator shook his head quickly. "No, no, I don't want to see the rooms," he said. "I was only curious to know if Mr. Dampier actually lived here."

      As there was a suite of living rooms attached to the studio, why had the Dampiers gone to an hotel?

      "Yes, monsieur, there are three beautiful bedrooms, also a bath-room, and a room which was not used by us, but which my master is going to turn into a little salon for his lady. As for their meals--" she shrugged her shoulders--"they will have to be served as heretofore in the studio." Then, "Does monsieur know the new Madame Dampier?" enquired Mère Bideau a trifle anxiously.

      "Yes," he answered uncomfortably. "Yes, I do know her."

      "And if monsieur will excuse the question, is she a nice lady? It will make a great difference to me--"

      "Yes, yes--she is very charming, very pretty."

      He could not bring himself to inform the good woman that the lady who had come with him, and who was now waiting outside the house, claimed to be Mrs. Dampier. It would be too--too unpleasant if it turned out to be--well, a mistake!

      The Senator was telling himself ruefully that though there was now ample evidence of the existence of John Dampier, there was not evidence at all as yet that the artist had ever been at the Hôtel Saint Ange: still less that the young Englishwoman who had just now refused to accompany him into the studio was John Dampier's wife. However, that fact, as she had herself pointed out rather piteously, could very soon be put to the proof.

      Slowly Senator Burton left the studio and made his way into the open air, where Nancy was waiting for him.

      "Well?" he said questioningly. "Well, Mrs. Dampier, what is it that you would like to do now?"

      "I don't know what I ought to do," said Nancy helplessly. She had again become very pale and she looked bewildered, as well as distressed. "You see I felt so sure that we should find Jack here!"

      "The only thing I can suggest your doing," the American spoke kindly, if a little coldly, "is to come back with me to the Hôtel Saint Ange. It is probable that we shall find Mr. Dampier there, waiting for you. A dozen things may have happened to him, none of which need give you any cause for anxiety." He pulled out his watch. "Hum! It's close on twelve--yes, the only thing to do is to go back to the hotel. It's almost certain we shall find him there--" it was on his lips to add, "if he really did come with you last night," but he checked himself in time.

      "But Mr. Burton? Suppose Jack is not there?"

      "If he doesn't return within the next two or three hours, then I will consult with my son, who, young though he be, has a very good head on his shoulders, as to what will be the best step for you to take. But don't let's meet trouble half-way! I have little doubt that we shall find Mr. Dampier waiting for you, vowing vengeance against the bold man who has eloped, even with the best of motives, with his wife!" he smiled, and poor Nancy gave a quivering smile in return.

      "I should so much have preferred not to go back to that hotel," she said, in a low voice. "I do hope Jack won't make me stay on there for the next two or three days."

      And with the remembrance of what she had considered to be the gross insult put upon her by Madame Poulain, Nancy Dampier reddened deeply, while her new friend felt more and more bewildered and puzzled.

      On the one hand Senator Burton had the testimony of three trustworthy persons that the young Englishwoman had arrived alone at the hotel the night before; and against this positive testimony there was nothing but her bare word.

      Very, very reluctantly, he felt compelled to believe the Poulains' version of what had happened. He could think of no motive--in fact there was no motive--which could prompt a false assertion on their part.

      As they were driving back, each silent, each full of painful misgivings, the kindly American began to wonder whether he had not met with that, if rare yet undoubted, condition known as entire loss of memory.

      If, as Madame Poulain had suggested, Mr. Dampier had left his wife just before their arrival at the hotel, was it not conceivable that by some kind of kink in Mrs. Dampier's brain--the kind of kink which brings men and women to entertain, when otherwise sane, certain strange delusions--she had imagined the story she now told with so much circumstantial detail and clearness?

      When they were nearing the hotel, Nancy put her hand nervously on her companion's arm.

      "Mr. Burton," she whispered, "I'm horribly afraid of the Poulains! I keep thinking of such dreadful things."

      "Now look here, Mrs. Dampier--" Senator Burton turned, and looking down into her agitated face, spoke gently and kindly--"though I quite admit to you these people's conduct must seem inexplicable, I feel sure you are wronging the Poulains. They are very worthy, respectable folk--I've known them long enough to vouch for that fact. This extraordinary misunderstanding, this mistake--for it must be either a misunderstanding or a mistake on some one's part--will soon be cleared up, so much is certain: till then I beg you not to treat them as enemies."

      And yet even Senator Burton felt taken aback when he saw the undisguised annoyance, the keen irritation with which their return to the Hôtel Saint Ange was greeted by the woman to whom he had just given so good a certificate of character.

      Madame Poulain was standing on the street side of the open porte cochère, as the carriage drove down the narrow street, and the American was astonished to see the change which came over her face.

      An angry, vindictive, even a cruel expression swept over it, and instead of waiting to greet them as the carriage drew up at the door she turned abruptly away, and shuffled out of sight.

      "Wait a moment," he said, as the fiacre drew up, "don't get out of the carriage yet, Mrs. Dampier--"

      And meekly Nancy obeyed him.

      The Senator hurried through into the courtyard. Much would he have given, and he was a careful man, to have seen the image he had formed of Jack Dampier standing on the sun-flecked flagstones. But the broad space stretching before him was empty, deserted; during the daylight hours of each day the Exhibition drew every one away much as a honey cask might have done a hive of bees.

      Madame Poulain did not come out of her kitchen as was her usual hospitable wont when she heard footsteps echoing under the vaulted porte cochère, and so her American guest had to go across, and walk right into her special domain.

      "We did not find the gentleman at his studio," he said shortly, "and I presume, Madame Poulain, that he has not yet been here?"

      She shook her head sullenly, and then, with none of her usual suavity, exclaimed, "I do not think, Monsieur le Sénateur, that you should have brought that demoiselle back here!"

      She gave him so odd--some would have said, so insolent a look, that the Senator realised for the first time СКАЧАТЬ