A Threefold Mystery: a tale of Monte Carlo

Chapter 1

'AGE I. THE OLD HOUSE IN DORSETSHIRE - - I II. WE GO TO THE RIVIERA - - IO III. l'h6tEL DES ANGLAISES - - 29 IV. SOME OF THE PEOPLE WE MET - 36 V. THE STRANGE SECRETARY - - 46 VI. UP THE CALIFORNIE - - -65 VII. MY LOVE AND I - - - - 74 VIII. THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER - - "95 ix. Madeline's story - - - - 113 X. PAUL BRERETON - - - - 121 XI. MONTE CARLO - - - 13° XII. 'HE ONLY ESCAPED ME BY DEATH'- - 135 XIII. ALAS ! MY SISTER - - - 143 XIV. A COTTAGE BY THE THAMES- - 153 XV. THE WONDERFUL PREACHER- - 167 XVI. THE LOST SHEEP FOUND - - 1

CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOUSE IN DORSETSHIRE.

It is three years since my mother died, leaving Beatrice and me alone in the world ; three years since I thought my heart was broken, since I watched all night by that silent form, with the moonlight streaming into the room. I was found in the morning stiff and cold, and carried to my bed, where I lay for weeks between life and death. Three years, and since then a good man has put his hand in mine, making life sweet to me ; and yet even now I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned, and I cannot write more of her, except that she was the best and loveliest of her sex. O, mother, mother ! when I see anything beautiful I think of you. Where are you, I wonder ? Are you close beside me now, or in the blue sky up yonder, or over there behind those purple hills ? You are happy wherever you are, for your eyes have seen the King in His beauty; they have beheld ' the land that is very far off.' Bee and I have no one but each other.

Our father died so long ago we could neither of us remember him ; our brother was married, and of our two sisters, the eldest, Ethel, had been work ing for years amongst the poor, not in the east end, but in the south of London, where there is quite as much want and destitution, if not more. Our other sister, Janet, who was five years older than I, had been married for some years before the events of which I am writing took place. She was living about nine miles from us — a nice little motherly woman, wrapped up in her husband and children, and yet always ready to listen and sym pathize with us. We generally saw her two or three times a week. With that exception, and the old rector of the parish, who was a distant cousin of my father, I may say we saw no one. Rushton Hall, where my sister lived, was the nearest country seat.

In the village next to us, about four miles off, there was not even a par sonage, the clergyman riding over from the neighbouring parish every Sunday to perform the service. I do not think it would be possible to find in all England a more deserted spot than the place in which we lived. But we were happy. Who could not fail to be happy, with Bee's ringing laugh in one's ears, with Bee's little sunny head before one's eyes ? Bee was four years younger than I, and I was twenty-three at the time of which I am writing. And oh ! how can I describe Bee — Bee, with her sweet lips, that looked as if they were only made to kiss and to caress ; Bee, with her ' little head running over with curls !' Ah, little golden head, many waters must pass over thee ere thou findest rest and peace ! Why is it it seems so sad when the young suffer, and the cruel sky is just as blue, the birds sing, the flowers bloom, as if there were no burdened young hearts, they who so love the sun shine, the fairest, sweetest flowers of all ?

Bee was everything to me ; she was all I had in the world; she made the old house radiant with her brightness and her beauty. It was an old straggling, many-gabled house ; it had been in our family for generations, and we had an affection for it which the parvenu can never understand. We had our horses and dogs, and we used to go roaming about by ourselves, Janet gently protesting sometimes : ' I think, dear, it would be better if you didn't ride alone.' But we only laughed. ' It was all very well years ago,' we used to say; 'girls, poor things! were tied to their mothers' apron-strings, but now everything is different.' So we did pretty much as we liked. We had only two riding-horses, and what pleasure would it have been for me to ride without Bee, to have a stupid groom instead of her ? And Bee said she would never care to go anywhere without me ; it was very sweet of her.

I wished sometimes for her sake we saw more people. We got plenty of invitations, but they were not of the liveliest description, and we were both home-birds. There was only one thing we wished for, and that was to go abroad. One morning I came down to breakfast and discovered on my plate a letter from Mrs. Grant, a cousin of ours by marriage, whom we had met once or twice before. The letter ran : ' Dearest Maud, ' I am going to the Riviera next week for two or three months, as I wish to avoid the fall of the leaf in England. Would you and Bee like to join me ? I hear that you have a great wish to go abroad ; if so, I shall be delighted if you will go with me. I am not sure that mother will go, though I am trying to persuade her, so that it will be a kindness to me if you will come, as you know I hate being alone, and I think you will enjoy it.

Cannes is lovely now, and I have some friends there, who will get us rooms at the Hdtel des Anglaises. I hear it is such a nice hotel, so com fortable, and very nice people there, and not so outrageously dear as some of the hotels are in Cannes. If you think of going with me will you wire, and get ready as soon as possible, as I start on the second of November ? Hoping to see you soon, with love, I remain, ' Yours affectionately, ' Cecile Grant.' I read the letter over quietly. I was delighted for Bee's sake, and, as she came gaily into the room at that moment, I cried : ' Bee, what do you think ? Here is a letter from Cecile asking us to go abroad with her next week. Would you like to go ?' * Yes, darling, of course I should. When did you say — next week? Oh, how lovely!' she cried, clapping her hands. ' I do so want to go to France.

I want to see the blue sky, and the sea, and all the flowers. Oh, Maude, just think of the flowers and the sunshine on a day like this!' It certainly was a bleak day, one of those pre saging winter, gloomy and still, with a dull, dank fog lying like a pall over everything. ' What shall we take ?' asked Bee, looking round the urn at me, from where she sat at the end of the table. ' Well, I think we'd better take one large box between us, and of course we must have our wraps and little things with us in the carriage. And perhaps Kate ought to go with us.' ' Oh yes,' said Bee. ' Kate is a dear girl ; I couldn't get on without her.' ' And yet I wonder, dear, if it would be necessary. Cecile is sure to take her maid.' Bee looks rather helpless at this; she is just like a big soft baby used to being waited on, and from the time I can remember, Markham, the old nurse, has always done everything for her.

So we decide on taking Markham. ' What frocks shall we take ?' said Bee, when the latter point was settled. ' I think,' I said meditatively, ' we had better take these ' (' these ' were dark-blue serge), ' and our homespuns.' 'Yes,' said Bee, ' and our new ones.' 'And,' I said, 'we had better take our last year's summer gowns for the table d'hote. Janet told me it's not good taste to wear dinner dresses; but I shall take a couple, because Cissy knows a lot of people out there.' ' This is Monday,' said Bee, ' and we are to start to-morrow week. Let's go to the town this morning, darling, and get all the things we want.' ' We must take a little kettle for tea, and a spirit lamp. All the English people have tea in their rooms. Markham will be able to make it for us.' ' Don't they have tea at the hotels abroad ?' ' I believe they do at a few, but very seldom ; it's best to be prepared against all emergencies.' ' How delightful to have it picnic fashion in one's room !' said Bee. ' Well, I must go and find Markham, and tell her to get our things ready.' It had been arranged that we were to meet at Victoria at about 10.30 on the Tuesday morning, so we came up the day before, and stayed with an aunt in town, who gave us many and varied in junctions about the way we were to conduct our selves ; in fact, literally and figuratively, she rather mournfully shook her head over us altogether. ' I don't think Frank ought to let you go,' she said.

Frank was our eldest brother, who had been married for years, and had about as much in fluence over us as a hen has over a brood of ducks. We saw him about once a year, and he managed our money matters for us ; in that way he was of importance, but not much, I grieve to say, in any other, as we had seen very little of him. ' You must be very careful, my dears. Never think of going out after sunset : it's most dangerous. And never think of going out be fore breaking your fast — young people are so very imprudent. Of course, I needn't tell you, my dears, never think of going out alone ; it would be most exceedingly improper.' Dear Aunt Jenny ! She was a sweet old lady, with a cap and curls ; but she really did rather depress us, as may be imagined, because Bee and I had never been accustomed to be trammelled or fettered in any way. We went to sleep that night feeling not quite so light-hearted as we were before. Oh, Bee, my darling ! if only I had left you with Aunt Jenny !

Chapter II. We Go To The Riviera

The next morning we were called early, and at 10.30 arrived at Victoria, or, rather, we arrived earlier, as we received a startling telegram, telling us to be at the station by ten. Cissy told me afterwards that Gerald sent it to insure our being there in good time. Cissy was not at the station when we arrived ; but we soon descried her coming along with her maid and two other appendages, one a girl I had met occasionally before. She was not a great favourite of mine ; but, as I am not fond of ex patiating on the faults of my own sex, I will say very little about her. She was married now to a man old enough to be her grandfather, with none of that attractiveness about him that an old man sometimes has for a girl. He was one of the grumbling order of men, and he had the largest mouth I ever saw.

Bee and I always called him The Cavern ! Besides these, there was Mrs. McDuff, Cissy Grant's mother. At the last moment she had made up her mind to come. She had suffered terribly from sciatica last year, and dreaded another six months of misery. We had never seen her before, though we had often heard of her. We saw a pale, delicate woman, with that indescribable charm which good birth and breeding give — a/e ne sais quoi — something that cannot be described, that fills one with as much pleasure as a beautiful face. She had lost her husband, who simply idolized her, some years before, but still wore deepest mourning for him ; but not in any other way did she obtrude the grief which I am sure she felt. Although extremely delicate, and often acutely suffering, she was so plucky and had so much spirit, it carried her through a great deal that would have killed most people.

She was the life of every party she went to, so charmingly gay and sympathetic, never one to throw a damper on the frolics of the young, but always ready to make the best of everything, to enjoy herself and help others to do the same. We found Mrs. McDuff quite an addition to the party. And now for another picture in my album — sweet little Cissy ! One of the dearest little women you ever saw ! Bee and I had only met her two or three times before ; but we had stayed in the same house with her for a few days, and that was quite enough to know Cissy. About two years ago a cousin of ours, Gerald Grant, whilst travelling on the Continent, had met a Mrs. and Miss McDuff. They were introduced by a mutual friend, and very soon afterwards were engaged and married. Gerald had always been a favourite cousin of ours — he was so good and true — so that we were naturally very anxious to see his little wife ; and last Christmas we all met at a house-warming, at our uncle's place in Somersetshire.

And we were not disappointed. We all fell in love with Cissy. There was some thing so very taking about her ; she was very pretty, with big brown eyes, and curly brown hair, the kind of face one would see in an Italian miniature or a French locket — just like some lady of the Middle Ages, with her hair done up at the top of her head ; dressed in a soft white frock, cut square at the throat, and showing her white wrists and little transparent white hands. For I'm sorry to say sweet Cissy was not very strong; in fact, she had done so many imprudent things that I only wonder she was alive at all. She had a little nervous way of talking, entirely her own ; but it was such a pretty kind of nervousness, it didn't make her hard and cold, as nervousness does so many people. She had the prettiest little manner in the world!

It seemed to say, 'Take care of me ; I'm so little and weak. I don't like being left alone. I want you to care for me, and protect me.' Cissy never thought of herself; she was the most generous, the truest, and most constant friend. You felt, if you got into terrible disgrace, if you lost your last sou, if you were in rags, Cissy would welcome you just the same. She came running towards us now with out stretched hands. ' Oh ! I hope you don't mind,' she said, ' Kitty going with us. You know Kitty, don't you, Maude ?' I thought, ' Yes, I do !' ' You won't mind her going with us, will you ? She's going abroad with her husband. I'm afraid it's not a very happy marriage, poor girl ! I don't think I like her husband much.' The husband at that moment was squabbling with a porter about the luggage, and engaged in getting the best place for himself.

At last, after Mr. Gait had screamed for a Bradshaw, and a Telegraph and a Times, and Markham had lost her bag, and Kitty had lost her purse and found it again, Bee was nowhere to be seen. We found her talking to a poor little man without legs, who got his living by crawling about, exciting people's compassion. 'I'm so sorry!' I heard Bee saying, 'and I know God is sorry, too. He can't bear any of us to suffer.' ' Bee darling,' I said, ' the train starts in five minutes.' ' Does it ?' she said, bringing her lovely eyes back to this world again. ' Oh, do wait one moment ! I must give this poor man something. Fancy, Maude, he was run over by a train seven years ago, and he lost both his legs, and now he blacks people's boots ; but they don't always see him, because he's so little, and they go to the regular shoeblacks.

I must give him half-a crown !' They were all screaming to us from the car riage by this time, a porter holding open the door, the guard with his whistle to his lips, and the flag waving in his hand ; so, seizing hold of Bee, though she still looked back at the man, whose eyes were dim as he watched her and blessed her, we sprang in, not a moment too soon. The train slowly steamed out of the station. I heard a laugh behind one of the curtains, and, looking round, saw Gerald sitting in the corner. ' I thought I would go down to Dover and see the last of Cissy,' he said fondly. ' Now, Mr. Grant, you might have been polite, and said "you all," instead of " Cissy." ' You all,' said Gerald, laughing. ' Never mind, Gerry ; we forgive you,' said Bee brightly. ' And you will be of the greatest use to us at Dover, Gerald,' I said, laughing. ' Yes, I shall stand on the pier,' said Gerald, ' and shoot all your things after you.' We all laughed, as if Gerald had made a very good joke.

Gerald is so very jolly ; he has such a nice honest face — the sort of face you instinc tively feel you can trust. The train was a bit late, as usual ; and, as usual, the boat was anxious to be off. There only seemed to be just time to get on deck, when they told Gerald he must jump on shore, or he would be taken off with the rest. ' Good-bye, my love !' I heard him whisper, as he took Cissy in his arms. ' Take care of yourself,' he whispered. ' God bless you ! Take care of her, Maude. Good-bye.' It was rather a bad passage, if one might judge from the pallid countenances and different things one saw ! There was a general move to the ladies' cabin, Mrs. McDuff, Cissy, Kitty, and the maid all going below to lie down. Why people go below, I never can make out. If you are perfectly well on deck, the very sight of the ladies' cabin is enough to make you ill ; the very sight of the stewardess, who is usually large and stout, and speaks in a hushed voice, asking if she can do anything for you, or if you would like to lie down, is enough to unnerve you.

You feel, ' Ah, well, I may as well resign myself to my fate.' Human beings forget how uncon sciously sympathetic they are, and how very powerful imagination is. My advice is, if you wish to be ill, go below, into the ladies' cabin. I begin to feel qualmish, I must confess, as I catch hold of the rails to get down, and by the time I am in the cabin, I may not be resigned to my fate, but I feel that it has overtaken me, un less I can summon up all my strength and reso lution and get up again. The best thing is, make up your mind you are not going to be ill, eat plenty of dry biscuits, and sit in the breeze, or walk up and down, well wrapped up, of course, so as not to take cold. I began to feel decidedly qualmish, so made my way up on deck again, catching sight of Mr. Gait stretched out in the men's saloon after the same manner.

I don't know why, but I always have such a strong contempt for men who succumb to sea sickness. It's very unjust, because I suppose they can't help it, poor things ! What was my consternation to find Bee appa rently deep in conversation with a perfect stranger. Markham, of course, had disappeared; or rather, after casting my eyes about, I saw her sitting, looking the picture of misery, a few paces off. I do wish Bee were not quite so innocent. I am four years older than she is, and four years is a good deal, of course ; but I really feel old enough to be her mother. She looks up now as guilelessly innocent, without a blush on her face, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be talking to a perfect stranger as if he were your brother. ' Bee darling,' I said, 'I want to tell you some thing.' I purposely stood rather far off, for then I thought she would get up and come away.

It was a dreadful responsibility to me, this lovely sister of mine. I don't think I ever realized it so much till now. Her companion said something to her in a low voice, but I don't think she heard. She came up to me as brightly as possible. ' That gentleman was so kind, Maude. You know that pretty handkerchief you gave me; it was on my lap, and the wind took it, and I should have lost it if it hadn't been for him. Don't you think he's very handsome ?' ' Yes, dear ; but ladies never talk to strange men who have not been introduced to them.' ' Don't they ? Ah, but if they catch your things for you ' ' You just thank them, dear, quite gravely, and take no more notice of them.' ' Oh, Maude ! isn't the sea lovely, and the blue sky, and the little white waves, and the sea gulls ?' Bee had forgotten all about the strange man now ; she was just as radiant, talking to me ; in fact, it didn't much matter to her to whom she talked, only she must always have someone with her to love.

Most people have been over to Calais. How familiar it all seems ! When the bell is ringing the poor sea-sick passengers pluck up hope, and with long-drawn sighs pull themselves together. I must say for the most part it's a very pitiable sight. A boat starting ; what a gay scene, all your friends waving adieux from the pier's head at Dover ; but oh, what a difference those two hours make in our appearance ! We might all have been slowly recovering from long, tedious ill nesses. Those gray grim walls and the Calais pier always have a depressing effect on me, and all the strange faces about, not like the nice, honest familiar faces of our English porters. I suppose it's the natural effect of the sea voyage, that dread of strange faces ; and then there is nothing inspiriting about Calais, nothing pretty, only the dirty pier and the still dirtier station.

I believe there is a new station now, but there was not when I wrote this. No sooner have you dragged your weary feet upstairs, than you have to produce all your belongings for the custom-house officers to examine. It is a curious sight, the sturdy Briton, with his independence and his amour propre, having all his things scrupulously turned over and looked at by these fierce-looking, heavily-moustached Frenchmen, with all their excited, vehement gesticulations. Gerald had so impressed me with the idea never to seem at all compunctious about having my luggage looked at, that I almost implored them to search our boxes, handing them my keys with cool effrontery. Poor Markham came off the worst; she was extremely indignant at having her trunk opened. I saw her bridling with that severe, offended virtue kind of look the British matron loves to assume. ' It isn't proper like, miss, for these men to be looking at our clothes.' However, the men thought the hesitancy pro ceeded from a different motive, and when they triumphantly pounced upon a pound of tea, which I had asked her to pack with her things, they evidently looked upon her as a very dangerous character.

If it hadn't been for Mrs. McDuff, who came to the rescue, I don't know where we should have been. She spoke French beautifully, with the most perfect accent I ever heard, and when she quietly said 'C'est permit,' and ex changed a little badinage with the man, he did up the box. At last we got to the train. Oh, the weariness of that day, and the still greater weariness of the night ; even now I shudder to think of it ! Six months must at least pass before one can go through such torture again. The only ameliora tion of our misery was that we were not obliged to get out in the middle of the night for the customs, as is the case in the night journey across the frontier, when coming from Lucerne, for instance. But it's bad enough anyway, and there is something so weird about it too, racing along in the darkness ; nothing to be heard but the roar and rumble of the train, and the occa sional scream of the engine ; nothing to be seen but the smoke, lurid red in the blackness.

And then, too, when the lamp is covered and the carriage is in partial darkness, if you are travelling with strangers, you are almost afraid to close your eyes ; you think of all the horrible stories of murders in the train of which you have ever heard. In the uncertain light that man who is sitting on the other side seems to be coming towards you ; he is going to murder you, take all your valuables, and escape at the next station. But there was no feeling of that sort here ; there were eight of us, and we just filled up the carriage, Mr. Gait of course occupying a corner seat, Kitty next to him. Bee and I sat together. I put her in the corner after a great deal of persuasion, telling her how much better I liked it, which was true, for I never felt happy unless she had the best of everything.

Bee wore a long cloak with a hood ; this she threw over her head and was asleep in a few minutes, but not before she had slipped her hand into mine, and kissed me, and given me a cushion to make my head more comfortable. Cissy sat opposite to us, and her maid next her, a nice-looking girl, with a quiet, gentle manner, and a great favourite with her mistress ; in fact, one of those maids who are generally spoken of as invaluable, never obtrusive, always ready to obliterate herself, yet always ready to be helpful at the right moment. She had found slippers for us all, one of the greatest boons on a long night's journey, and in a hundred other little ways sought to minister to our comfort. I was quite convinced Mr. Gait would snore, which of course he did, not regularly, but spasmodically — a kind of snoring that made one extremely nervous, wondering when the next would come, utterly precluding sleep.

I also discovered that he was mortally afraid of a breath of air, and every time Annie opened the window he huffed and hawed and coughed, and made himself so obnoxious generally that we were obliged to have it shut again. Markham, dear old thing ! was the most useless member of the community. I don't think she had recovered from her sea-sickness, and was not accustomed to long journeys. She sat next Mrs. McDuff. That heroic lady, though she had not been out for months, was, as usual, quite equal to making the best of the occasion. ' I think I'm wonderful,' I heard her saying to Mrs. Gait, who sat opposite. ' I was in my bed till this morning, and Cissy and Norah begged me not to go ; they were afraid of the long journey for me. But I just got up, and, you see, here I am.' ' You're a wonderful woman, mother,' said Cissy. ' Annie, will you get out some claret for Mrs. McDuff?

I'm sure she ought to have some.' ' No, I won't have any yet ; I'll just wait a little^' ' You really must have a little, ma'am,' said Annie firmly (Annie was a very determined young person), 'and just a little bit of something to eat with it — just a biscuit.' ' I hope you're comfortable, Maude,' Cissy said, ' and you, Bee.' But Bee was asleep. ' Cissy darling,' said Kitty, in her affected way, ' I wish you'd have this rug ; I'm not using it.' ' No, thank you, Kitty ; really I'm quite warm. Annie has covered me up, and I'm quite hot, like a toast.' ' I wish I was,' growled Mr. Gait ; ' there's a draught just at the back of my neck.' I needn't say any more about the night journey; everyone who has passed through the trial knows what it means. The stoppages every now and then to change the foot-warmers, when weary folk get down to stretch their legs on the platform, till the cry, ' En voitures, messieurs et mesdames !' makes them jump into the train, which again starts off into the darkness.