and he placed his hand on her wrist.

'You hurt my wrist,' she said.

'I'll break your wrist, my darling,' he said, quietly, 'if you don't give me that bottle.'

Kitty wrenched her hand away, and rose to her feet.

'Sooner than that, I'll throw it away,' she said, and before he could stop her, she flung the bottle out on to the lawn, where it fell down near the trees.

'Bah! I will find it,' he said, springing to his feet, but Kitty was too quick for him.

'M. Vandeloup,' she said aloud, so that everyone could hear; 'kindly take me back to the ball-room, will you, to finish our valse.'

Vandeloup would have refused, but she had his arm, and as everyone was looking at him, he could not refuse without being guilty of marked discourtesy. Kitty had beaten him with his own weapons, so, with a half-admiring glance at her, he took her back to the ball-room, where the waltz was just ending.

'At all events,' he said in her ear, as they went smoothly gliding round the room, 'you won't be able to do any mischief with it now to yourself or to anyone else.'

'Won't I?' she retorted quickly; 'I have some more at home.'

'The deuce!' he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

'Yes,' she replied, triumphantly; 'the bottle I got that belonged to you, I put half its contents into another. So you see I can still do mischief, and,' in a fierce whisper, 'I will, if you don't give up this idea of marrying Madame Midas.'

'I thought you knew me better than that,' he said, in a tone of concentrated pa.s.sion. 'I will not.'

Then I'll poison her,' she retorted.

'What, the woman who has been so kind to you?'

'Yes, I'd rather see her dead than married to a devil like you.'

'How amiable you are, Bebe,' he said, with a laugh, as the music stopped.

'I am what you have made me,' she replied, bitterly, and they walked into the drawing-room.

After this Vandeloup clearly saw that it was a case of diamond cut diamond, for Kitty was becoming as clever with her tongue as he was.

After all, though she was his pupil, and was getting as hardened and cynical as possible, he did not think it fair she should use his own weapons against himself. He did not believe she would try and poison Madame Midas, even though she was certain of not being detected, for he thought she was too tender-hearted. But, alas! he had taught her excellently well, and Kitty was rapidly arriving at the conclusion he had long since come to, that number one was the greatest number.

Besides, her love for Vandeloup, though not so ardent as it had been, was too intense for her to let any other woman get a hold of him.

Altogether, M. Vandeloup was in an extremely unpleasant position, and one of his own making.

Having given Kitty over to the tender care of Mrs Rolleston, Vandeloup hurried outside to look for the missing bottle. He had guessed the position it fell in, and, striking a match, went to look over the smooth close-shorn turf. But though he was a long time, and looked carefully, the bottle was gone.

'The devil!' said Vandeloup, startled by this discovery. 'Who could have picked it up?'

He went back into the conservatory, and, sitting down in his old place, commenced to review the position.

It was most annoying about the poison, there was no doubt of that.

He only hoped that whoever picked it up would know nothing about its dangerous qualities. After all, he could be certain about that, as no one but himself knew what the poison was and how it could be used. The person who picked up the bottle would probably throw it away again as useless; and then, again, perhaps when Kitty threw the bottle away the stopper came out, and the contents would be lost. And then Kitty still had more left, but--bah!--she would not use it on Madame Midas. That was the vague threat of a jealous woman to frighten him. The real danger he was in lay in the fact that she might tell Madame Midas the relations between them, and then there would be no chance of his marrying at all.

If he could only stop Kitty's mouth in some way--persuasion was thrown away on her. If he could with safety get rid of her he would. Ah! that was an idea. He had some of this poison--if he could only manage to give it to her, and thus remove her from his path. There would be no risk of discovery, as the poison left no traces behind, and if it came to the worst, it would appear she had committed suicide, for poison similar to what she had used would be found in her possession. It was a pity to kill her, so young and pretty, and yet his safety demanded it; for if she told Madame Midas all, it might lead to further inquiries, and M.

Vandeloup well knew his past life would not bear looking into. Another thing, she had threatened him about some secret she held--he did not know what it was, and yet almost guessed; if that was the secret she must be got rid of, for it would imperil not only his liberty, but his life. Well, if he had to get rid of her, the sooner he did so the better, for even on the next day she might tell all--he would have to give her the poison that night--but how? that was the difficulty.

He could not do it at this ball, as it would be too apparent if she died--no--it would have to be administered secretly when she went home.

But then she would go to Madame Midas' room to see how she was, and then would retire to her own room. He knew where that was--just off Mrs Villiers' room; there were French windows in both rooms--two in Mrs Villiers', and one in Kitty's. That was the plan--they would be left open as the night was hot. Suppose he went down to St Kilda, and got into the garden, he knew every inch of the way; then he could slip into the open window, and if it was not open, he could use a diamond ring to cut the gla.s.s. He had a diamond ring he never wore, so if Kitty was discovered to be poisoned, and the gla.s.s cut, they would never suspect him, as he did not wear rings at all, and the evidence of the cut window would show a diamond must have been used. Well, suppose he got inside, Kitty would be asleep, and he could put the poison into the water carafe, or he could put it in a gla.s.s of water and leave it standing; the risk would be, would she drink it or not--he would have to run that risk; if he failed this time, he would not the next. But, then, suppose she awoke and screamed--pshaw! when she saw it was he Kitty would not dare to make a scene, and he could easily make some excuse for his presence there. It was a wild scheme, but then he was in such a dangerous position that he had to try everything.

When M. Vandeloup had come to this conclusion he arose, and, going to the supper room, drank a gla.s.s of brandy; for even he, cool as he was, felt a little nervous over the crime he was about to commit. He thought he would give Kitty one last chance, so when she was already cloaked, waiting with Mrs Killer for the carriage, he drew her aside.

'You did not mean what you said tonight,' he whispered, looking searchingly at her.

'Yes, I did,' she replied, defiantly; 'if you push me to extremities, you must take the consequences.'

'It will be the worse for you,' he said, threateningly, as the carriage drove up.

'I'm not afraid of you,' she retorted, shrugging her shoulders, a trick she had learned from him; 'you have ruined my life, but I'm not going to let you ruin Madame's. I'd sooner see her dead than in your arms.'

'Remember, I have warned you,' he said, gravely, handing her to the carriage. 'Good night!'

'Good night!' she answered, mockingly; 'and to-morrow,' in a low voice, 'you will be astonished.'

'And to-morrow,' he said to himself, as the carriage drove off, 'you will be dead.'

CHAPTER XI

THE VISION OF MISS KITTY MARCHURST

Everyone knows the story of Damocles, and how uncomfortable he felt with the sword suspended by a hair over his head. No one could enjoy their dinner under such circ.u.mstances, and it is much to be thankful for that hosts of the present day do not indulge in these practical jokes. But though history does not repeat itself exactly regarding the suspended sword, yet there are cases when a sense of impending misfortune has the same effect on the spirits. This was the case of Madame Midas. She was not by any means of a nervous temperature, yet ever since the disappearance of her husband she was a prey to a secret dread, which, reacting on her nerves, rendered her miserable. Had Mr Villiers only appeared, she would have known how to deal with him, and done so promptly, but it was his absence that made her afraid. Was he dead?

If so, why was his body not found; if he was not dead, why did he not reappear on the scene. Allowing, for the sake of argument, that he had stolen the nugget and left the colony in order to enjoy the fruits of his villainy--well, the nugget weighed about three hundred ounces--and that if he disposed of it, as he must have done, it would give him a sum of money a little over one thousand pounds. True, his possession of such a large ma.s.s of gold would awake suspicions in the mind of anyone he went to; but then, there were people who were always ready to do shady things, provided they were well paid. So whomsoever he went to would levy blackmail on him on threat of informing the police and having him arrested. Therefore, the most feasible thing would be that he had got about half of the value of the nugget, which would be about six hundred pounds. Say that he did so, a whole year had elapsed, and Madame Midas knew her husband well enough to know that six hundred pounds would soon slip through his fingers, so at the present time he must once more be penniless. If he was, why did he not come back to her and demand more money now she was rich? Even had he gone to a distant place, he would always have kept enough money to pay his way back to Victoria, so that he could wring money out of her. It was this unpleasant feeling of being watched that haunted her and made her uneasy. The constant strain began to tell on her; she became ill and haggard-looking, and her eyes were always glancing around in the anxious manner common to hunted animals.

She felt as though she were advancing on a masked battery, and at any moment a shot might strike her from the most unexpected quarter. She tried to laugh off the feeling and blamed herself severely for the morbid state of mind into which she was falling; but it was no use, for by day and night the sense of impending misfortune hung over her like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall at any moment. If her husband would only appear, she would settle an income on him, on condition he ceased to trouble her, but at present she was fighting in the dark with an unknown enemy. She became afraid of being left alone, and even when seated quietly with Selina, would suddenly start and look apprehensively towards the door, as if she heard his footstep. Imagination, when uncontrolled, can keep the mind on a mental rack, to which that of the Inquisition was a bed of roses.

Selina was grieved at this state of things, and tried to argue and comfort her mistress with the most amiable proverbs, but she was quite unable to administer to a mind diseased, and Mrs Villiers' life became a perfect h.e.l.l upon earth.

'Are my troubles never going to end?' she said to Selina on the night of the Meddlechip ball, as she paced restlessly up and down her room; 'this man has embittered the whole of my life, and now he is stabbing me in the dark.'

'Let the dead past bury its dead,' quoted Selina, who was arranging the room for the night.

'Pshaw!' retorted Madame, impatiently, walking to the French window at the end of the room and opening it; 'how do you know he is dead? Come here, Selina,' she went on, beckoning to the old woman, and pointing outside to the garden bathed in moonlight; 'I have always a dread lest he may be watching the house. Even now he may be concealed yonder'--pointing down the garden.

Selina looked out, but could see nothing. There was a smooth lawn, burnt and yellow with the heat, which stretched for about fifty feet, and ended in a low quickset hedge at the foot of a red brick wall which ran down that side of the property. The top of this wall was set with broken bottles, and beyond was the street, where they could hear people pa.s.sing along. The moonlight rendered all this as light as day, and, as Selina pointed out to her mistress, there was no place where a man could conceal himself. But this did not satisfy Madame; she left the window half open, so that the cool night wind could blow in, and drew together the red velvet curtains which hung there.

'You've left the window open,' remarked Selina, looking at her mistress, 'and if you are nervous it will not make you feel safe.'

Madame Midas glanced at the window.

'It's so hot,' she said, plaintively, 'I will get no sleep. Can't you manage to fix it up, so that I can leave it open?'

'I'll try,' answered Selina, and she undressed her mistress and put her to bed, then proceeded to fix up a kind of burglar trap. The bed was a four-poster, with heavy crimson curtains, and the top was pushed against the wall, near the window. The curtains of the window and those of the bed prevented any draught blowing in; and directly in front of the window, Selina set a small wood table, so that anyone who tried to enter would throw it over, and thus put the sleeper on the alert. On this she put a night-light, a book, in case Madame should wake up and want to read--a thing she very often did--and a gla.s.s of homemade lemonade, for a night drink. Then she locked the other window and drew the curtains, and, after going into Kitty's room, which opened off the larger one, and fixing up the one window there in the same way, she prepared to retire, but Madame stopped her.