The Prisoner in the Mask Page 45

  ‘Good evening, Octave,’ said the Count quietly. ‘I hope you are keeping well. But I fear your master is far from being his normal self.’

  Before Octave could reply, Syveton retorted in a now carefully controlled voice, ‘I am at least in my own house and in my right clothes; which is more than you are.’ Then he added, to the butler, ‘Monsieur le Comte has broken in here and has been threatening me. He is already wanted by the police. Get your police whistle, Octave. Go out into the street and summon a gendarme. Bring him here as quickly as you can.’

  After another perturbed glance at each of them in turn, Octave muttered, ‘Yes, Monsieur; yes,’ and hurried away.

  While Syveton had been giving his instructions he had shifted his position a little. Before, the revolver had been partly in shadow; now, full light showed up the details of the weapon clearly. De Quesnoy had been trying to catch the Deputy’s eyes, with the faint hope that he might be able to hold them long enough to hypnotise him swiftly. Failing in that, his glance fell for a moment on to the revolver. Instantly now, he saw that the chambers exposed to view were empty. That being so, the odds were that there was no bullet in the chamber opposite the barrel. Next second he flung himself at Syveton.

  The Deputy gave a warning shout and raised the weapon a trifle; but before he could do more de Quesnoy was upon him. Grabbing Syveton’s right hand with his left, he forced the revolver down and outward. It did not go off. With his clenched right fist he hit him hard beneath the chin. Syveton’s head went back and he staggered. Using every ounce of his strength, the Count hit him again. His knees buckled under him, and he crashed unconscious to the floor behind his desk.

  In a stride de Quesnoy reached the glass door to the conservatory. Another minute and he was out in the garden. Running hard, he crossed it; but when he arrived at the gate in the wall he pulled up short. He had left both his carpenter’s tool bag and his hat in the pavilion, expecting to return there. They were part of his disguise and without head covering of some kind he would be a much more conspicuous figure. Turning, he ran round the pavilion and upstairs. When he got there he was breathless from his exertions, so he perched on the arm of an easy chair for a moment to get his wind back.

  While he sat panting there, it suddenly occurred to him that his wisest course would be to stay where he was. By now Syveton was probably coming round. At any moment Octave would return with a gendarme. It would then need only a telephone call and special patrols would be sent out. The police of the whole district would be buzzing like a swarm of bees. Now that his new disguise was known, and the streets were practically deserted, only with the greatest luck could he hope to get through unchallenged. Whereas the idea that he had had the audacity to remain within a hundred yards of the room in which he had assaulted Syveton was unlikely to occur to them. And by early morning they would have concluded that he had succeeded in getting clear away, so have relaxed their vigilance.

  As he considered this new plan, he realised that it had an additional advantage. To remain confined in the crate for twelve hours at least would be strain enough. Why prolong his self-imprisonment in such close quarters by attempting to get into them tonight, when instead he could sleep between silk sheets in the airy comfort of the pavilion?

  Coming to his feet, he quickly turned down the oil lamps that he and Angela had left burning, then drew back the curtains and began to keep an anxious watch on the house. There were lights in Syveton’s study and in Angela’s bedroom. For three-quarters of an hour he kept up his vigil, but neither of them went out. On the other hand, there had been no sign of police activity and no one came out from the house into the garden.

  Deciding that if anyone intended to search the pavilion for him they would have done so by now, he re-drew the curtains, went into the bedroom and, having made sure that the window overlooking the Pare was properly screened, lit the lamp there. He rarely slept for more than six hours and it was only half-past eleven; so he had no fear that he would oversleep in the morning, but to make quite certain of waking early he meant to pull the curtains right back as soon as he had put out the light.

  He was only half undressed when a faint sound caught his ear. Stiffening into immobility, he listened intently. Next moment he knew for certain that someone was coming up the stairs. Seizing his workman’s blouse, he hastily pulled it on again. Swiftly he turned out the lamp. Tiptoeing to the window, he raised its lower sash so that he could drop down into the Pare. Footfalls now came from the living-room; but their lightness puzzled him. They could not possibly be those of several men come to make a search. Stealing back across the room, he eased the door open a crack and peered through. It was Angela.

  She was bending over one of the oil lamps, which she had just lit. Beside her was a fair-sized valise that she had evidently put down, and she was wearing travelling tweeds, a flat hat and a veil that was tied beneath her chin.

  Throwing the door open, he ran to her. She started back, and gasped: ‘Armand! I thought that by now you were miles from here!’ Before she could say more he had her in his arms.

  A few moments later, she was saying, ‘It was Octave. Instead of going for the police he came upstairs to me. He said that when passing through the hall he had heard Gabriel having a violent quarrel with someone; then the bell of the study rang for him. He found you there dressed as a workman, but apparently quite calm, while Gabriel seemed on the verge of madness and screamed at him to fetch the police. He could not believe that Gabriel really meant to disgrace our house by having an old friend like yourself arrested in it; so he came up to ask me what he should do.’

  ‘Bless the old boy,’ murmured de Quesnoy. ‘He shall have a pension for this. What happened then?’

  ‘We went downstairs together. You had fled, and I naturally supposed were making for your crate. Gabriel was groaning on the floor. I left Octave to bring him round and returned to my room. That he should have attempted to betray you—in fact would have done so if it had not been for Octave—filled me with horror. I regard treachery as the one crime that is beyond forgiveness. Then when I thought how for months past I had been fool enough to postpone your happiness and my own out of loyalty to him, and that just because of a quarrel about money he would have sent you to prison if he could, and so robbed me of you, I decided that it was the end.’

  ‘Thank God for that! You couldn’t have known though, that in the hope of escaping having to pay up those forty thousand francs, he had already betrayed me. It was he who laid an information with the police that I was Vasili Petrovitch. He admitted that when I charged him with it.’

  Sadly she shook her head. ‘Such vileness is hardly credible. Yet it makes me all the more contented in the resolution that I took. I vowed then and there that I would never spend another night under his roof. That is why I came here. I packed my jewels and toilet things and changed into travelling clothes. When I leave here tomorrow morning I am going straight to the Gare du Nord, and I mean to take the train that your crate is to be put upon to England.’

  ‘My darling!’ he cried. ‘How wonderful. And you will apply for an annulment as soon as you get there?’

  ‘Yes; I’ll not lose a minute.’ She smiled at him. ‘Armand, please give me a drink.’

  Because they had left the supper table so abruptly, a second bottle of champagne that he had opened still stood there untouched. He filled both their goblets. She drank half the contents of hers straight off, then set it down with a happy sigh and said:

  ‘You have no idea what this decision has done for me. I must have been mad to stay with Gabriel for so long. At this moment I am experiencing what a prisoner must feel like when he has suddenly had his chains struck off.’

  He smiled back at her. ‘You will feel still better on the night that we arrive in Madrid. How I wish that we could set off here and now. But before I can even write to François asking him to make special arrangements for us, we have to get through this business of your establishing yourself with your parents as a model
daughter.’

  ‘I know, and I’m afraid that is going to take two or three months at least.’

  ‘I was hoping that you might be able to get away by Christmas.’

  ‘No; I’ll have to spend Christmas in the bosom of my family. There is no way in which I could wriggle out of that.’ She took another long drink of wine, then added more cheerfully: ‘Still, now we really belong to one another I don’t see why we should be so hard on ourselves. I mean, while I still feel that to start a hole-in-the-corner affaire would be terribly unsatisfactory, and anyhow much too dangerous while we are in London, three months is an awfully long time to wait for our first real fling. That is, unless you feel that a few nights spent together before our proper honeymoon might spoil it.’

  His eyes lit up. ‘Of course it wouldn’t! The sooner I can make you my very own the happier I’ll be. But when, darling, when? How soon could you manage that?’

  ‘How impatient you’ve suddenly become,’ she laughed. ‘But I love you for it. Can you bear to wait a fortnight. I think by then I could safely tell my parents that I was going to stay for a long week-end with some friends of mine that they have never met; and we’d spent it at some little hotel in the country.’

  ‘My sweet! You open a vision of Heaven to me. I’ll be counting the days, the hours, even the minutes.’

  Finishing her wine, she stood up, untied her veil and threw her hat on a chair; then she said: ‘I’ll be counting minutes too, now we’ve agreed that we needn’t wait until we get to Madrid. As that is settled then, and I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed. I’m sorry to deprive you of it; but as a soldier I expect you will manage to get quite a good sleep on the sofa.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘I’ll do well enough there.’

  ‘Will you?’ Her eyes began to dance. ‘That is a poor compliment, with me lying counting the minutes until you come to me next door.’

  ‘Angela! But … but you said that you were tired.’

  ‘Tired!’ she cried, throwing back her lovely head. ‘You dear stupid; I have never felt less tired in my life. I am free! Free! Free! And you’ve just said that the sooner you can make me your own the happier you’ll be. The thought of it makes my blood sing like wine in my veins. God knows, we have waited ten years for this. But at last I am yours; now and for ever, to do what you will with.’

  * * * * *

  During the five hours that followed, neither of them came nearer sleep than occasionally to slip into a sweet half-consciousness in which each was still joyously aware of the presence of the other.

  As the bell in the nearby church steeple chimed five, de Quesnoy raised himself on his elbow, kissed Angela into full consciousness and made love to her again; then he said, ‘My sweet, it is time for us to be stirring.’

  In the faint light of the lamp that they had left burning low, she smiled up at at him and murmured, ‘Yes, for poor you. But I can be a happy sluggard and lie abed for hours yet, and wish you with me still.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. There is one thing you must do; and before the servants in the house are up. You must write a note for Syveton to tell him that you have left him.’

  ‘Why?’ she pouted. ‘He will know it soon enough.’

  ‘He had no reason to suppose that you meant to last night. When he learns that you did not sleep in your room he will think that after leaving Octave to revive him you went out again and that some accident has befallen you; then he’ll ring up the hospitals and the police. As he is a Deputy it is certain that the police will busy themselves in the matter. They may spot you at the Gare du Nord, and telephone him that you are about to leave by the train for England. A French husband’s rights are considerable. He could instruct them to detain you and prevent you from leaving the country. Whereas if you let him know yourself that you have left him, and add that if he makes trouble for you he can expect the Public Prosecutor to be informed of his affaire with Clothilde, he will take no action.’

  Reluctantly, Angela agreed to the soundness of her lover’s argument; but as he made a move to get out of bed she threw an arm round his neck, pulled him back, then leaning right over him looked down into his eyes and said with sudden seriousness:

  ‘Armand, I’ve known for years that love making would be wonderful with you but, until this night we’ve just spent together, I’d never dreamed that two people could reach such heights of bliss. It has been playing with fire, though. I feel now like a tigress who has tasted blood. I know it was I who suggested an annulment and begged you to be patient until we could be married—just making do in the meantime with living together in secret for a week or two from time to time. But now two years, perhaps three, of that sort of thing would be more than I could bear. Between whiles I’d be driven crazy with longing for you.’

  His voice was a little husky as he replied, ‘I have feared all along that would prove the case. Anyhow, I knew it would be with me once you had given yourself to me. But what alternative is there to doing as we planned?’

  ‘Let’s go away together, just as you wanted me to before I persuaded you that it would be better to apply for an annulment. I have been thinking about it for the past hour, and I’m quite willing now to throw my shoes over the moon. After all, why should I not put your happiness and mine before that of my parents. They have had their lives, whereas we still have the best part of ours before us.’

  ‘No, Angela; no! I can’t let you do that. When I really thought about it I realised what an impossible situation it would place you in. To expose you to a constant risk of insult would be torture to me; and people like ourselves could never be happy buried away somewhere leading the lives of petits bourgeois.’

  ‘Very well, then. Let’s take the middle course that you suggested. We’ll go to America and I’ll get one of those divorces which would anyhow enable me to bear your name. My parents’ feelings cannot be helped. Faced with a fait accompli they would probably come round after a while and accept the situation.’

  He was sorely tempted to agree, but steeled himself to make another protest. ‘It is not only your parents, dearest. There are quite a lot of people of our class who would refuse to receive you as my wife if they knew that your divorce was legal only in a remote American State.’

  ‘What does that matter? It would apply only to the old and stuffy ones. Besides, we needn’t live in Europe. Why shouldn’t we make our home in Honolulu, or somewhere in the South Seas? Think how lovely I could make myself for you after bathing in the surf, with hibiscus in my hair and my body tanned all over to a beautiful golden brown.’

  He had one arm about her bare shoulders, and as she lay upon him, pressing him down, her tumbled curls fell on each side of her glowing face, her eyes were wide with excitement and her mouth was a little open, showing her perfect teeth. Gazing up at her he murmured:

  ‘You could never be more lovely than you are at this moment. But what you suggest is madness. After a while you would tire of lotus eating and become homesick for your country and friends. We had far better resign ourselves to making the best of a stolen week or two together every few months, until we can marry and face the whole world without shame or fear.’

  ‘I won’t resign myself! I couldn’t now,’ she cried, tears starting to her eyes. ‘Armand, I beg you not to make me. Think of the long months of separation, when we’ll be craving for one another night after night. As you said yourself, the next few years will be the best in our lives. We mustn’t throw the greater part of them away. There’s another thing. If we try to cheat our passion after this I know what will happen. Each time we meet in secret we’ll want to be together more and more. We’ll give way to that temptation and enter on a continuous intrigue. After a while we’ll become careless and be found out. Then everything will be ruined, and we’ll have suffered endless tribulation for nothing.’

  For a long moment he lay silent, then he said, ‘There is a lot in what you have just said. So be it then. But on one condition.’

  ‘Name it, darlin
g. I’ll agree to anything you like so long as it allows us to live together permanently.’

  ‘It is that you should go to England and spend a month with your parents. Put in your plea for an annulment. There is just a chance that you might still get it; although I think that very doubtful if we enter into a civil marriage after a Nevada divorce. Don’t hurry things, but in due course tell your parents everything. How Gabriel mistreated you but you refrained from making a scandal by leaving him although you have been in love with me for many years; then how this affaire of Clothilde has brought things to a head and exactly what we mean to do. They may prove much more sympathetic than you give them credit for. Anyhow, it is worth trying; and if it comes off I will pay a formal call on your father before we leave England for America to become united for good.’

  She nodded. ‘Very well, darling. It will mean some horrid scenes, as I’m sure they will take it badly; anyway to begin with. But you are right to make me do it, because being honest with them now may make all the difference to their attitude towards me in the future.’

  After a long lingering kiss they both got up, washed and dressed themselves. Then she used a sheet of the notepaper that had been left by Clothilde to write her farewell to Syveton.

  When she had stuck down the envelope, she said, ‘I won’t be long. I will leave it on the desk in his study. He is bound to see it there as soon as he comes downstairs; and I’ll come straight back.’

  With a tender glance de Quesnoy watched her leave the living-room, then he set about making his final preparations for departure.

  While he was making them his thoughts were in a turmoil. Less than twelve hours ago Angela was only promised to him in some nebulous future; since, she had suddenly and unexpectedly become his absolutely, and for good. Moreover, during their night together they had achieved a perfection of ecstasy rarely granted even to the most passionate lovers. So he knew that he ought to be feeling on top of the world.