"Poor Miss Wells!" he laughed, after the door had closed. "She's so infernally positive about everything. It would be as good as an entertainment to induce her to expound her views upon religious matters."

"Any argument seems utterly useless," I remarked.

"Do you know Nice well?" he inquired, after reflecting a moment.

"I've spent three winters there," I answered.

"And at Monte Carlo, I suppose?"

"Yes, of course," I responded, laughing. "I suppose scarcely any man goes to Nice without going over to Monty and risking a few louis."

"Were you lucky?"

"So, so. One season I won five thousand francs. In fact, I've never lost on the whole season. I've always left the Riviera with some of the bank's money."

"Then you can heartily congratulate yourself," he said, "I'm the reverse. I generally lose. Do you believe in any system at roulette?"

"No; they are all frauds," I answered promptly. "Except one," he interposed. "There's one based on the law of averages, which must turn up in your favour if you're only patient enough. The reason why it is so difficult is because it's such a long and tedious affair."

"Explain it," I urged, for a new system that was infallible was, to me, of greatest interest. I had, in the days before my blindness, made a study of the chances at roulette, and had played carefully upon principles which had, to me, appeared most natural. The result had been that with care I had won--not much, it was true--but it was better than leaving one's money to swell the company's dividends.

"The system," he said, tossing off his gla.s.s of curacoa at one gulp, "is not at all a complicated one. If you study the permanences of any table--you can get them from the _Gazette Rose_--you'll find that each day the largest number of times either colour comes up in succession is nine. Now, all you have to do is to go to a table at the opening of the play, and taking one colour, red or black it makes no difference, stake upon it, and allow your money to acc.u.mulate until it is swept away. If the colour you stake upon comes up eight times in succession, and you have originally staked twenty francs, your gains lying on the table will amount to two thousand five hundred and sixty francs. Even then, don't touch it. The colour must, in the law of averages, come up nine times in succession each day, taking the week through. If it comes up, you'll win five thousand and twenty francs for the louis you staked, and then at once leave the table, for it will not come up nine times again that day. Of course, this may occur almost at the opening of the play, or not until the table is near closing, therefore it requires great patience and constant attendance. To-day it may not come up nine times, but it will probably come up nine times on two occasions to-morrow, and so the average always rights itself."

His theory was certainly a novel one, and impressed me. There might, I thought, be something in it. He had never had patience to try it, he admitted, but he had gone through a whole year's "permanences," and found that only on three or four occasions had it failed.

For half an hour or so he sat lucidly explaining the results of his studies of the game with the air of a practised gambler. In these I became at once interested--as every man is who believes he has found the secret of how to get the right side of the bank; but we were at length compelled to put down our cigars, and he led the way into the drawing-room, where the ladies awaited us.

The room was a large, handsome one, elegantly furnished, and lit by two great lamps, which shed a soft, subdued light from beneath their huge shades of silk and lace. Mabel was sitting at the open grand piano, the shaded candlelight causing the beautiful diamond star in the coils of her dark-brown hair to flash with a dazzling iridescence, and as I entered she turned and gave me a sweet smile of welcome.

A second time I glanced around that s.p.a.cious apartment, then next instant stood breathless--transfixed.

I could not believe my own eyes. It seemed absolutely incredible. Yet the truth was beyond all doubt.

In the disposition of the furniture, and in the general appointments of that handsome salon, the home of the woman I so dearly loved, I recognised the very room which I had once explored with my keen sense of touch--the room in which had been committed that ghastly, mysterious, midnight crime!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

WHAT I SAW.

"How you men gossip!" Mabel exclaimed, tingling upon the piano-stool, and laughing merrily.

"I wasn't aware that we had been very long," I answered, sinking into a low armchair near her. "If so, I'm sure I apologise. The fact is, that Mr Hickman was explaining a new system of how to break the bank at Monte Carlo."

"Oh, Mr Hickman!" she cried, turning at once to him. "Do explain it, and I'll try it when we go to the Riviera."

"Mabel, my dear," exclaimed her mother, scandalised, "you'll do nothing of the kind. You know I don't approve of gambling."

"Oh, I think it's awfully good fun," her daughter declared.

"If you win," I added.

"Of course," she added; then, turning again to Hickman, she induced him to explain his new and infallible system just as he had explained it to me.

The trend of the conversation was, however, lost to me. My ears were closed to all sound, and now that I reflect I am surprised that I succeeded in retaining my self-possession. I know I sat there rigid, as one held motionless in terror; I only replied in monosyllables to any remark addressed to me, and I knew instinctively that the colour had left my countenance. The discovery was as bewildering as it was unexpected.

Every detail of that handsome room was exactly as I had pictured it.

The blind, with their keen sense of touch, are quick to form mental impressions of places and things, and the general character of this apartment I had riveted upon my mind with the fidelity of a photograph.

The furniture was of gilt, just as I had detected from its smoothness, and covered with a rich brocade in wide stripes of art green and dull red-brown--an extremely handsome pattern; the carpet was dark, with a pile so thick that one's feet fell noiselessly; the three long windows, covered by heavy curtains of brocade to match the furniture, reached from the high-painted ceiling to the ground, exactly as I had found them in my blind gropings. About the room were two or three tables with gla.s.s tops, in trays beneath which were collections of choice _bric-a-brac_, including some wonderful Chinese carvings in ivory, while before the fireplace was spread the great tiger-skin, with paws and head preserved, which I so well remembered.

I sat there speechless, breathless. Not a single detail was there wanting. Never before, in all my life, had amazement held me so absolutely dumbfounded.

Close to where I saw was a s.p.a.cious couch, over the centre of which was thrown an antimaca.s.sar of silken crochet-work. It was covered with the same brocade as the rest of the furniture, and I stretched forth my hand, with feigned carelessness and touched it. Its contact was the same, its shape exact; its position in the room identical.

Upon that very couch I had reclined while the foul tragedy had been enacted in that room. My head swam; I closed my eyes. The great gilt clock, with its pendulum representing the figure of a girl swinging beneath the trees, standing on the mantelshelf, ticked out low and musically, just as it had done on that fateful night. In an instant, as I sat with head turned from my companions and my eyes shut, the whole of that tragic scene was re-enacted. I heard the crash, the woman's scream, the awe-stricken exclamation that followed in the inner room. I heard, too, the low swish of a woman's skirts, the heavy blow struck by an a.s.sa.s.sin's hand, and in horror felt the warm life-blood of the unknown victim as it trickled upon my hand.

Mabel suddenly ran her white fingers over the keys, and the music brought me back to a realisation of my true position. I had at length discovered the actual house in which the mysterious tragedy had been enacted, and it became impressed upon me that by the exercise of greatest care I might further be enabled to prosecute secret investigations to a successful issue, and at length solve the enigma.

My eyes fixed themselves upon the couch. It was the very spot where I had rested, sightless, helpless, while those strange events had taken place about me. Was it any wonder that I became filled with apprehensions, or that I sat there petrified as one turned to stone?

The square, dark-green antimaca.s.sar had been placed in the exact centre of the couch, and sewed down in order to keep it in its place. Where I was sitting was fortunately in the shadow, and when Mabel commenced playing I rose--unsteadily I think--and reseated myself upon the couch, as being more comfortable. Then, while the woman who held me entranced played a selection from the "Trovatore," I, unnoticed by the others, succeeded in breaking the st.i.tches which tacked the antimaca.s.sar to the brocade. The feat was a difficult one, for one does not care to be detected tearing the furniture of one's hostess. Nevertheless, after ten minutes or so I succeeded in loosening it, and then, as if by the natural movement of my body, commenced to work aside.

The music ceased, and even though all my attention was now centred upon my investigations, I congratulated Mabel upon her accurate execution.

Hickman was standing beside her, and together they began to search for some piece he had requested her to play, while Miss Wells, with her hearts and elephants jingling, turned to me and commenced to talk. By this I was, of course, interrupted; nevertheless, some ten minutes later, I rose, and naturally turned back to straighten the rumpled antimaca.s.sar. In doing so I managed to lift it and glance beneath.

In an instant the truth was plain. Concealed beneath that square of green crochet-work was a large dark-brown stain upon the brocade. It was the mark of the life-blood of that thin, well-dressed, unknown victim, who had, in an instant, been struck to the heart!

The shock at its discovery caused me to start, but next instant I smoothed out the antimaca.s.sar into its former place without attracting any attention, and pa.s.sed across the room with the motive of inspecting an object which I well remembered discovering when I had made my blind search. Upon a pedestal of black marble stood an exquisite little statuette of a Neapolitan dancing-woman, undoubtedly the work of some Italian master. Without pausing to examine it, I took in its every detail as I pa.s.sed. It was exactly as I had felt it, and in the self-same spot as on that fatal night.

Beside the couch, as I turned again to look, I saw that a large skin rug had been thrown down. Without doubt it had been placed there to conceal the ugly stain of blood upon the carpet.

And yet there, on the scene of one of the foulest and most cowardly a.s.sa.s.sinations, we were actually spending the evening quietly, as became a respectable household. The thing seemed absolutely incredible. A dozen times I endeavoured to persuade myself that the whole discovery was but a chimera, arising from my disordered imagination.

Nevertheless, it was impossible to disguise from myself the fact that in every detail the truth was borne out. In that very room the unknown man had been struck dead. The marks of his blood still remained as evidence of the truth.

I saw that beside the high lamps at that moment in use, there was a magnificent candelabra suspended from the ceiling, and in this were electric lamps. Then, at the door, I noticed the switch, and knew that it was the same which I had heard turned off by the a.s.sa.s.sin before leaving the house.

At the end of the room, too, were the folding doors, now concealed by curtains. It was through those very doors that Edna, my mysterious protectress, had pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed to that inner room whence had come the sound of champagne being uncorked and the woman's piercing scream.

Mabel leaned over and spoke to me, whereupon I sank again into the chair I had previously occupied. She began to chat, but although her beautiful eyes held me fixed, and her face seemed more handsome than any I had ever seen, the diamonds in her hair dazzled my eyes, and I fear that my responses were scarcely intelligible.

"You are not quite yourself to-night, I think," she remarked at last, rising from the piano, and taking the low chair that I drew up for her.

"Are you unwell?"

"Why?" I asked, laughing.

"Because you look rather pale. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I answered, as carelessly as I could. "A slight headache.