"I know," I cried, "I told Rene in the graveyard."

"So it was decided that Charles should pay the full penalty. Adele was despatched to England once more. She had ill luck from her point of view because the fire she started did not have the desired effect on account of the valet's returning early. Adele had to try again."

"So she poisoned the wine. How can you be sure of this?"

"I had it from Adele's own lips."

"Why did she tell you?"

"When I saw the picture I recognized her immediately. I guessed she was up to some mischief here. I was intrigued by the story of the unfortunate Lorenzo and the fact that shortly after Adele's visit, your husband died. Then, of course, Charles's life was in danger twice after her visits. I know the way the St. Allengeres work. I knew she was up to no good."

"Then you have no proof."

"But I have. I have Adele's written confession."

"Do you mean she gave it to you?"

"I am very determined when I decide on a certain action. I was sure that the St. Allengeres had had a hand in this. It is just the way the old man would work. I will not be over modest. We de la Tours have ruled our neighbourhood for years. In the old days we were all powerful. Times have changed but customs cling. I wanted Adele brought to me and my wishes were obeyed."

''You mean you held her prisoner?"

"I did. I demanded the truth. I let her think that I knew a great deal more than I did. And while I had her there in my castle I went to see the old man." His eyes glistened. "It was a great occasion for me. Face to face with the old villain himself. We were two titans . . . though you will doubtless think me immodest for saying it. I come from a long line of ruling Comtes and he was the head of the St. Allengeres who hold the none-less-kinglike sway in their little terrain. Villers-Mure is like a little state within the bigger state of Carsonne; but it is independent of Carsonne . . . like Burgundy and France of old. That is one of the reasons why he hates my family. We have always been determined that he shall not encroach further.''

"So you revelled in the confrontation."

"I did. He was speechless with rage. I accused him of murder. I told him he had broken one of the commandments . . . the most important of them all. He had sold his soul for Vendetta. I explained the innocence of Philip whom he had killed, for his was the ultimate responsibility and those who had performed the deed were acting only on his orders. He was the one who would have to face his Maker. He shouted that these men had come to his house as guests and one of them had replied to his hospitality by stealing an important formula and seducing his granddaughter. The righteous God would call that justice. The French had done all the work on an important project and the perfidious English had stolen the secret when it was on the point of perfection, seducing a daughter of the house of St. Allengere in order to steal it. The punishment was deserved. I had to agree with what he said. It was the kind of action the Comtes of Carsonne would have taken.

" 'But,' I pointed out, 'you killed an innocent man, and for that you will have to answer in Heaven.' He wouldn't believe it until I told him that Adele had confessed all to me. He shouted at me, abusing me, accusing me of seducing Adele. It was very strange that a man incapable of love will look for it in everything that happens. I left him raging, but he was frightened. I had seen his face grow ashen at the thought of Heaven's revenge. He sees himself burning in Hell in spite of what he would call his good life and all because he has committed the one great sin of murder.''

He paused and I could see how he had relished that interview.

"That night," he went on, "he was taken ill. He had a stroke. He had never been so shocked in his life. He lived according to his own rules and he would tell you he was a just man. Sin had to be paid for and he was the judge of us all-a sort of Commissioner under God, but only just. He had pictured his God of vengeance with the heavenly choir singing praises of the virtuous Alphonse St. Allengere--and hell fire for the rest of us. And now he had committed a mortal sin. He had caused an innocent man to be murdered. There would be no compromise. In spite of a life of impeccable virtue which had brought misery to thousands, he himself was among the sinners. It had been too much for him. He might have died with his sin upon him. Now he was fighting desperately to regain his old standing with the Almighty. I have hinted that we shall expect him to expiate his sin. The change in him was a miracle in itself.''

''You are gloating over him.''

"Of course. This is the justice in which he has always believed. We shall use his fears to good advantage. He is to take full responsibility for what has happened ... for the death of your husband ... for the death of Julia Aldringham. He is responsible. Those who committed the crime are merely his puppets."

"Will that exonerate them?"

"Not entirely. But mercy will be shown to them, I am sure. I do not know what will happen . . . whether Adele will be brought to England to stand trial or not. Perhaps so. Whether they will insist on the old man's revealing the name of the man who shot your husband . . . that I cannot tell. All I know at the moment is that that is the story and that you are no longer under suspicion . . . nor is Mr. Drake Aldringham. Your police know of this. Perhaps the whole story will be disclosed . . . perhaps not. It may be that they will just allow the details to be told which seem right to them. As for Monsieur Charles, I think he may be in trouble. There could well be a case brought by the House of St. Allengere concerning the theft of the silk formula . . . which could plunge him into financial disaster . . . heavy damages and so on. Who can say at this stage. But it will be no more than he deserves for it was his action which started this murderous train of events. But that is not our concern. Have I made you happy now?"

"Just now I am bewildered. I do not know what to believe."

"Do you mean that you doubt my words?"

"Of course not, but it is bewildering to learn so much in such a short time."

"It took little time to tell but a long time to act out. So you are very grateful to me, eh?"

"If. . . this is all true . . ."

"Have I not told you?''

"Yes... yes ... but..."

"Well?"

"I don't know how to express my thanks for all the trouble you have taken."

''I will tell you how.''

I looked at him questioningly.

"Very soon," he went on, "I shall show you."

I thought of Grand'mere and her warning against this man.

I said: "I want to tell my grandmother what you have told me. She has suffered a great deal of anxiety. I must tell her at once."

"Yes, you must tell the good dragon. Tell her what I have discovered. She breathes fire every time my name is mentioned, I know. It would be pleasant if she did not regard me with such animosity. Please tell her what I have told you. Make her see that the trouble is past."

"I must go to her at once."

"That is what you wish, so be it. Tomorrow some of what I have told you will be confirmed and I shall come and see you again. I can see the headlines . . . 'The Silk Vendetta'. . . what a story for them. Au revoir then, Madame Sallonger, till tomorrow. ''

Grand'mere was incredulous. "Do you believe this?" she asked.

"He assured me it is true. He has Adele's confession. It fits in with everything."

"It may be that he tells this story to delude you."

"Why should he?"

"Don't forget I was brought up in the shadow of his family. I know the de la Tours... all of them. In the old days they were often at war with the kings of France. They ruled their land as despotically as ever the kings did theirs. They want something and they think it is their right to take it. And your grandfather is such another. Ruthless, demanding vengeance and turning others into murderers to suit his own ends. If it is true what you tell me . . ."

"Grand'mere, I feel it must be true."

"Then you and Drake are free. He ... the Comte knows that. Why should he do this? He knows about you and Drake, doesn't he?"

"He wants to see justice done."

"The de la Tours always had one motive-to serve themselves. He must be very interested in you."

"I think he was intrigued when he saw the picture of Adele and wanted to find out why she was posing as someone else."

She looked at me shrewdly. "Drake Aldringham is the one for you," she said firmly.

"After all this I feel we could not be together. He might feel the same."

"No, no. He loves you. He will give you everything to make you happy. He is a good man-a man you can trust. You would always be sure of him. The best thing in life is peace of mind. He would give you that."

Would he? I wondered. If I married Drake I would always feel that some part of me was at Carsonne. That man had laid a spell on me and nothing would ever be the same again.

"I know you are right in a way . . ."I said.

"Then be sensible."

''It wouldn't be fair to Drake."

"Tell me the truth. Surely you have always been able to do that with me. You are bemused by Gaston de la Tour. He seems to you a figure of power and strength; and he offers excitement . . . romance, I suppose. I know his reputation. It is the same as that of his forebears. They were never faithful husbands. But he would never marry you. The de la Tours have always married those of their own kind. He would tire of you quickly. It is their way of life. For centuries they have lived like feudal kings . . . petty monarchs even when there were no longer kings of France. Come out of your day dream. Drake is waiting for you. I know a good man when I see one and Drake Aldringham is one." I did not answer. Common sense told me that she was right.

Later that day the news was out. The mystery was solved. "The Silk Vendetta" proclaimed the headlines. "The long standing feud between two branches of the same family. The story of Sallon Silk which should have been St. Allengere Silk.''

There was speculation everywhere. Sallongers would be in trouble. This would ruin them. The French firm would demand crippling damages; but the main interest was in the solution of the mystery.

Drake came to see me. I was dreading the meeting.

He took both my hands and looked earnestly at me. He was like a man who has suddenly cast off a crippling burden.

"I feel free, Lenore," he said. "I can't get used to it."

But I was not free. I was caught up in a web from which I could not escape-a web which Gaston de la Tour had woven round me. I knew that I was foolish. I knew that a peaceful dignified life could lie ahead of me with Drake-but always my thoughts would be in Carsonne.

Drake went on: "This means so much to us, Lenore."

I was silent. I could not meet his eyes.

He said: "You don't want to marry me, do you? Is it this Comte? He went to a great deal of trouble. Are you going to marry him?"

"Marry him! He has never suggested such a thing. Drake, I'm sorry. I'm so fond of you, but I have a feeling that it would not be right. You made one mistake. You must not make another."

"With you, Lenore, I feel I could face anything. It won't be easy after all this. Even though one is shown not to be guilty it is never wholly accepted. Perhaps you will change your mind.''

"Drake, please understand."

"I do understand. I know we should have a good life together."

"People would always remember that we had been suspected of being lovers while Julia was alive. They would always believe it of us. It would harm your career."

"We could live that down. We could fight together. I would get back everything I have lost... if only we were together."

I nodded. I thought perhaps I might.

The next day the Comte called. He took my hand and kissed it looking at me with that half mocking expression which I knew so well.

"So," he said, "the news is out. It made exciting reading. The whole of London is reading of the Silk Vendetta. How does it feel to be one of the central figures in such a story?"

"Embarrassing."

"Believe me, it will be forgotten in a few weeks. Something else will turn up and lo! . . . Who are these Sallongers? It will not be over for Monsieur Charles, of course. He will have to pay rather highly for his sins, I do believe. But why should we concern ourselves with that gentleman? I have come to tell you that I have decided to marry. I thought you should be the first to know."

I hoped I did not show my feelings. I was suddenly so wretched. I should have guessed, of course. It would be some member of the old French aristocracy . . . someone whose family had survived the holocaust of the Revolution as his had done.

"Yes," he went on. "Raoul has been very ill. He nearly died in that fall. It set me thinking. I used to feel I had done my duty by providing the heir. But the family needs more than one heir . . . life being so precarious."

"I see. So you have decided to marry again?"

He nodded. "We have always had marriages of convenience in our family. It was considered a duty. Noblesse oblige and that kind of thing. And now the time has come for me to contract such a marriage. I must first of all consult you."

"Why?"

"Because it concerns you, of course."

He put his arm about me and held me tightly against him. "What suits rny convenience has always been my chief concern . . . and this would suit me very well. What do you say? Could you give up your great business interests to become the Comtesse de Carsonne? Could you change your modish style of life for one of feudal customs? It is no use saying No. I warn you in advance. I have promised Raoul that he shall have the company of the delectable Mademoiselle Katie each day. What do you say?"

"You are asking me. ..."

''Who else could possibly suit my convenience but the one who inspires me with emotions which I have never felt before? It is love, I suppose."

Waves of great joy swept over me. I felt so happy. But I thought: This can't be true.

''My dear one,'' he said, ''you do not look overjoyed.''

"I am too overjoyed to feel anything but shock."

"So I have your agreement?''

"You . . . you have made up your mind."

"How well you know me! You would not have been allowed to refuse. It is well to understand the man you are going to marry."

I laid my head against him and let myself become suffused with happiness.

"The good Grand'mere must be told," he said. "The chateau is vast. There will be room for her. She must be with you for I know what she means to you. Besides, with her I am not the chosen one. I look forward to skirmishes with that redoubtable lady. We have only one thing in common, she and I, but that is the most important thing in the world to us-our sweet Lenore. She will do her best to dissuade you, you know."

"I know."

"She will tell you that you are making a big mistake. You should take the virtuous Drake. You are going to a life which is different from anything you have known, with a man who is not of her choice. What shall you say, Lenore?"

"I shall say that is where I want to go ... and what I will find will be what I could never have come to miss."

"That is what I hoped to hear," he said. "Now let us go together and face the dragon."

Also by Victoria Holt.

Published by Fawcett Crest Books:.