"Why do you play with me like this?" he cried in anger, gripping her roughly by the arm. "I want five hundred pounds, and I'll have it before you leave this place."

"How is that possible when I do not possess it? Do talk sense."

"I'm talking sense. You have it; you can give it me if you choose."

"What do you mean?"

"The diamonds you are wearing. They're worth that, I suppose."

She hesitated, and holding her wrist to the dull lamplight revealed the diamond bangles which sparkled and flashed as she moved. His proposal was somewhat disconcerting, for the bracelets, as well as the necklet she was wearing, were a portion of Hugh's wedding gifts. She was puzzled to know how she should account for them if she yielded to the man's inexorable demands.

"I cannot. My husband would inquire what had become of them. What could I say? If I told him they were lost he would give information to the police, and you could not get rid of them without some ugly revelations resulting."

"It's no use arguing. I mean to have them."

He had taken the notes and thrust them carelessly into his vest pocket.

"No, my dear Percy, the thing's impossible."

"Nonsense," he cried fiercely, at the same time making a sudden s.n.a.t.c.h at the row of gleaming stones which encircled her white neck. When she saw his intention she put both hands up in an endeavour to prevent him, and gave vent to a slight scream.

But she was powerless. The clasp snapped, and the necklet was a moment later in his pocket.

"Return that at once," she cried, stamping her foot with rage. "If you don't I'll tell the police you've robbed me."

The captain stuck his hands into his pockets and laughed.

"Go and tell them, my dear," he said. "We should make an interesting pair before the magistrate."

"I never thought you were such a coward as to rob a woman," observed she, with indignant disgust, after demanding the return of her necklet several times, and being met with blank refusal.

"My dear Valerie," he replied coolly, "you needn't be surprised. When I want money, I'm ready to do anything in order to get it. But it's getting late," he continued, glancing at the clock. "Isn't it almost time you were at home?"

His bitter sarcasm maddened her. She did not speak for a few moments.

"I've had an ill.u.s.tration to-night of your fair dealing, Captain Willoughby," she said in a low, harsh voice, her face flushed with pa.s.sion. "When I met you I meant to pay the amount I arranged, but now you've taken my jewellery from me by force, and acted as the scoundrel you are, not another farthing shall you have--"

"Oh, won't I? You'll pay up when I come to you next time."

"We shall see," she said meaningly; and, drawing her cloak around her, she pulled down her veil and left the room, banging the door after her.

She knew her way out, for it was evident that it was not the first time she had been there.

When alone, the captain reseated himself, and, taking the necklet from his pocket, examined it carefully with the eye of a connoisseur.

"Humph," he murmured to himself, "they seem well-matched stones. I shall ask old Vlieger two hundred and fifty for it, and he'll send it over to Amsterdam and get it out of the way in case any inquiries are made. You've had a very profitable evening, Percy, my boy--very profitable."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

TRUTH IN MASQUERADE.

Before Valerie had resided at Coombe six weeks she grew weary of the monotony of country life. In her discontented mood her surroundings were dull and uninteresting, while the local people she met lacked polish and _chic_, which, to her eyes, were the two necessary qualifications in acquaintances. Nothing was extraordinary in this, however. Women of the world meet in their life so many men and women-- young, middle aged, and old--who commit all sorts of absurdities for or around them, that they end by entertaining a sovereign contempt for the whole human race, placing all persons in the same category. In each woman they see only an individual to impose upon and outvie in the matter of dress, and each fresh specimen of the genus man which is brought before them they regard only as a lamb destined for the sacrifice after being sufficiently shorn.

It was in consequence of an earnest wish she expressed that they had left Cornwall and travelled to Paris, taking up their abode at the Hotel Continental.

Lounging in a capacious chair in the smoking-room, Hugh was scanning some letters he had just received. A few days had elapsed since their arrival, and this morning Valerie had gone out alone in order to visit her milliner in the Rue de la Paix. Left to his own resources, her husband had taken the letters that Jacob had forwarded to him, and, repairing to the smoking-room, endeavoured to amuse himself with their contents.

One which he had read and still held in his hand caused him to twirl his moustache thoughtfully and knit his brows.

Upon a half sheet of notepaper one sentence only was written, in a fine angular hand, and read:

"If you obtain a copy of the Paris newspaper, _Le Gaulois_, for 10th May, 1886, you will find in it something that will interest you."

It was dated from Chelsea, and signed by Dolly Vivian.

"Now, I wonder what on earth she means?" he exclaimed aloud, her strange request for an interview--to which he had not replied--recurring to him.

It was exceedingly curious, he thought, that she should write him these vague, puzzling letters, well knowing that he was married and could now be nothing more to her than a friend. There was a mystery about this last communication that had aroused his curiosity, and for some time he sat trying in vain to find an explanation of her strange conduct.

Suddenly he made a resolve. Gathering up his letters he thrust them into his pocket, and went to his room to get his overcoat.

"If your mistress returns, Nanette, tell her I've gone for a stroll, and shall return in an hour," he said to his wife's maid, who handed him his hat.

"Very well, m'sieur," the girl replied. Then, as Trethowen descended the stairs to leave the hotel, she watched him, and added to herself: "You will return in an hour, will you? Perhaps so; we shall see."

She laughed heartily, for something appeared to amuse her, and when he had disappeared she returned to her mistress's room and commenced packing a trunk.

As Trethowen walked along the Rue Castiglione, crossed the Place Vendome, and went on towards the Boulevard des Capucines, a tall well-dressed man, with dark, pointed beard and curled moustaches, followed leisurely in his footsteps. This individual lounged aimlessly along, halting now and then to gaze into shop windows; nevertheless, from under the rather broad brim of his glossy silk hat a pair of keen grey eyes watched every movement of the man upon whom he was keeping observation. In the boulevard he was careful to cross to the opposite side of the way, in case the other should take a fancy to retrace his steps, for it appeared as if he did not desire an encounter. Sauntering along contemplating the engravings of the ill.u.s.trated papers displayed in the kiosques, he loitered so naturally that to an ordinary observer he was but an honest citizen of the suburbs.

The morning was bright and frosty. Hugh, bent upon investigating the truth of Dolly's strange a.s.sertion, and unaware of the presence of the individual who had suddenly displayed such intense interest in his movements, walked down the Boulevard des Italiens, and, turning into the Rue Drouot, entered the offices of _Le Gaulois_.

Addressing one of the clerks at the counter, he said--

"I desire to search your file for May, 1886. Can I do so?"

"If m'sieur will have the kindness to fill up this form which we have for the purpose, I will see that the file is brought," replied the man politely, handing him a dip of paper and a pen.

Trethowen complied with this request, and waited rather impatiently, taking Dolly's letter from his pocket, and glancing at it to rea.s.sure himself that he had made no mistake in the date. There were many persons in the office, some transacting business and others reading that day's newspapers, which were spread open upon stands. Consequently he did not observe the entrance of three men, who, although coming in separately, met a short distance from where he stood, and held a hurried consultation in an undertone.

One of the men, apparently a respectable workman, took out an unmounted photograph from his wallet, glanced at it, and afterwards looked intently at Hugh who stood calmly unconscious of the scrutiny.

"It's our man, without a doubt," declared the workman emphatically.

"I'd know him again amongst ten thousand."

"I wonder what his game is here?" asked the man who had dogged his footsteps from the hotel.

"Cannot you see? He's asked for the file of the month when the affair occurred," observed the third man. "Well, what of that?"

"The thing is quite plain. Out of morbid curiosity he wants to read what the paper said," replied his companion, who, turning to the workman, asked, "Have you any doubt that he is the same man?"