"That night," continued Julie, "in my cabin, I tossed and tossed, trying to discover a way to prevent this; for I had seen long since that M. Drouet no longer cared for me--I knew that it was upon some other woman that money would be spent. I decided that, at the first moment, I would hasten to this house; I would explain the matter to M. Vantine, I would persuade him to restore to me the letters, with which I would fly to madame. I knew, also, that I could rely upon her grat.i.tude," added the girl. "After all, one must provide for oneself."

She paused and glanced around the room, smiling at the interest in our faces.

"You have at least one virtue--that of frankness," said the veiled lady. "Continue."

"It was not until evening that I found an opportunity to leave madame," Julie went on. "I hastened here; I rang the bell; but I confess I should have failed, I should not have secured an entrance, if it had not been that it was my husband who opened the door to me.

Even after I was inside the door, he refused to permit me to see his master; but as we were debating together, M. Vantine himself came into the hall, and I ran to him and begged that he hear me. It was then that he invited me to enter this room."

She paused again, and a little shiver of expectancy ran through me.

At last we were to learn how Philip Vantine had met his death!

"I sat down," continued Julie. "I told him the story from the very beginning. He listened with much interest; but when I proposed that he should restore to me the letters, he hesitated. He walked up and down the room, trying to decide; then he took me through that door into the room beyond. The cabinet was standing in the centre of the floor, and all the lights were blazing.

"'Is that the cabinet?' he asked me, and when I said that most a.s.suredly it was, he seemed surprised.

"'It is an easy thing to prove,' I said, and I went to the cabinet and pressed on the three springs, as I had seen madame do. The little handle at the side fell out, but suddenly he stopped me.

"'Yes, it is the cabinet,' he said. 'I see that. And no doubt the drawer contains the letters, as you say. But those letters do not belong to you. They belong to your mistress. I cannot permit that you take them away, for, after all, I do not know you. You may intend to make some bad use of them.'

"I protested that such a suspicion was most unjust, that my character was of the best, that I was devoted to my mistress and desired to protect her. He listened, but he was not convinced. In the end, he brought me back into this room. I could have cried with rage!

"'Return to your mistress,' he said, 'and inform her that I shall be most happy to return the letters to her. But it must be in her own hands that I place them. The letters are here, whenever it pleases her to claim them."

"I saw that it was of no use to argue further; he was of adamant. So I left the house, he himself opening the door for me. And that is all that I know, madame."

There was a moment's silence; then I heard G.o.dfrey draw a deep breath. I could see that, like myself, he was convinced that the girl was telling the truth.

"Of course," he suggested gently, "as soon as you reached home you related to your mistress what had occurred?"

Julie grew a little crimson.

"No, monsieur," she said, "I told her nothing."

"I should have thought you would have wished to prove your devotion,"

went on G.o.dfrey, in his sweetest tone.

"I feared that, without the letters, she would misunderstand my motives," said Julie, sullenly.

"And then, of course, without the letters, there would be no reward,"

G.o.dfrey supplemented.

Julie did not reply, but she looked very uncomfortable.

The veiled lady rose.

"Have you any further questions to ask her?" she said.

"No, madame," said G.o.dfrey. "The story is complete."

Julie resumed her veil, shooting at G.o.dfrey a glance anything but friendly. The veiled lady turned to me and held out her hand.

"I thank you, Mr. Lester, for your kindness," she said. "Come, Julie," and she moved toward the door, which Rogers hastened to open.

Mr. Hornblower nodded and pa.s.sed out after them, and G.o.dfrey and I were left alone together.

We both sat down, and for a moment neither of us spoke.

"Well!" said G.o.dfrey, at last. "Well! what a story it would make! And I can't use it! It's a bitter reflection, Lester!"

"It would certainly shake the pillars of society," I agreed. "I'm rather shaken myself."

"So am I! I was all at sea for a while--I was dumb with astonishment when I heard you and the veiled lady talking about the secret drawer --I could see you laughing at me! I don't know the whole story yet.

How did she happen to come to you?"

I told him of Hornblower's visit, of the story he told me, and of the arrangement we had made. G.o.dfrey nodded thoughtfully when I had finished.

"The story is straight, of course," he said. "Hornblower would not be engaged in anything tricky. Besides, I recognised the lady. I suppose you did, too."

"Yes, I have seen pictures of her. And I admired her for putting back her veil."

"So did I. She has changed since the day of her wedding, Lester--she was a smooth-faced girl, then! Three years of life with her duke have left their mark on her!"

He fell silent, staring thoughtfully at the carpet. Then he shook himself.

"And the maid's story was most interesting," he added. "Nevertheless, there are still a number of things which are not quite clear to me."

"There is one thing I don't understand, myself," I said. "I hadn't any idea this was the right cabinet. I didn't see how it could be."

"That's it, exactly. How did it happen, when the veiled lady went to Armand & Son in Paris, that she was directed to Philip Vantine?

According to his own story, he did not purchase this cabinet; he had never seen it before; it was presumably shipped him by mistake; Armand & Son cable you that it was a mistake; and yet they cite Vantine as the purchaser. There is something twisted somewhere, Lester; just where I'll try to find out."

"Which reminds me that Armand's representative hasn't been around yet. No doubt he can straighten the matter out."

"It won't do any harm to hear his story, anyway," G.o.dfrey agreed.

"Now let's have a look at that drawer."

It was standing open as we had left it, and G.o.dfrey pushed it back into place, called my attention to the cunning way in which its outline was concealed by the inlay about it. Then he worked the spring, the handle fell into place, and he drew the drawer out again, as far as it would come, and examined it carefully.

"The fellow who devised that was a genius," he said, admiringly, pushing it back into place. "I wonder what its contents have been from the days of Madame de Montespan down to the present? Love letters, mostly, I suppose, since they are the things which need concealment most. Don't you wish this drawer could tell its secrets, Lester?"

"There is one I wish it would tell, if it knows it," I said. "I wish it would tell who killed Philip Vantine. I suppose you will agree with me that our pretty theory has got a knock-out blow, this time."

"It looks that way, doesn't it?"

"There is no poisoned mechanism about that drawer--that's sure," I added.

"No, and never has been," G.o.dfrey agreed.

"And that leaves us all at sea, doesn't it? It leaves the whole affair more mysterious than ever. I can't understand it," and I sat down in my bewilderment and rubbed my head. I really felt for an instant as though I had gone mentally blind. "There is one thing sure," I added. "The killing, whatever its cause, was done out there in the ante-room, not in here."